#//MANOR OF SLEEP ARC MANOR OF SLEEP ARC MANOR OF SLEEP ARC--

[hyaciiintho]

Starter for @diademreigned | Obscura Sora ♡

When Riku closed his eyes, he had fallen asleep in his familiar apartment home, Sora hovering nearby as he, too, had nestled close for a night's rest. There had been a niggling fear that the silveret would somehow RETURN to the strange and terrible place of the prior night's horrific setting: The manor of which housed tormented spirits that cried for help at every turn. With every CREAK of rotted wood and the deeper he went, the more evident the darkness which was housed within became.

The more Sora seemed to become AFFECTED by the manor, as well, that is, until he woke up.

"Why are we back here...?" We-- Riku spun around quickly in hopes to catch sight of the familiar spirit, a sigh of relief when he saw the brunet not too far from him, knowing he wouldn't be facing this horror alone. "Sora...? How are you feeling?" They had only JUST arrived, so surely, the other was doing just fine, right?

He had to ASK, just in case...

[regonold]

So twins au, but they both know and are in regular contact with each other like danny was to be killed but was instead placed with the fentons and he kept up semi regular correspondence with damian

He helps damian acclimatise to normal life... kinda he is still a fenton and his veiws are skewed by it but he helps a bit

And Danny's enjoying his new life no longer does he have to hide his powers his parents discovered and accepted and he even set up a schedule with his rouges they now have a scheduled time where they can come through the portal and fight

Everything was going great until somehow the bats found out about him and seem to think he needs help form his crazy parents

[haithhegimp]

i see a lot of people writing about jason's prior homelessness and poverty affecting the way he adapts to wayne manor, or tim's prior neglect affecting him, and damian's adapting is his whole canon arc, but i never see enough of people writing about dick's struggles with the new way of life.

like i see people writing about him being super energetic as a kid and constantly needing to move, but i mean like-

give me a dick grayson who cant fall asleep for so long after coming to the manor because everything is just so wrong. theres no animal sounds, and he's sleeping on a four poster bed instead of a narrow one with the wall of the wagon at his side, and the room is too big and he cant hear or see anyone else.

give me a dick grayson who's used to getting hand-me-downs from a whole circus full of people. who's used to bright and colourful and nonsensical clothes, but is now given money and told to buy muted things.

give me a dick grayson who's uniform makes him feel like he's choking because he's never worn a tie a day in his life. who constantly has to remind himself that he shouldnt be breaking his slacks in so that they'll be easier to perform in, slacks are supposed to feel stiff like this.

give me a dick grayson whos so used to the animals in the circus that alfred or bruce have to pull him back whenever he sees a rabid dog on the street. who accidentally gets too rough with ace because he's used to tussling with lions.

give me a dick grayson who feels like he's dying when its been months and he's been going to the same places every single day. who cant stand having to live in one place for this long. who never grows out of it and has to take road trips regularly when hes older.

just give me a dick grayson who is from the circus, and it may not show at first glance, but it mattered. it really mattered.

[airosuiren]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔚𝔥𝔬 𝔚𝔞𝔰𝔫’𝔱 ℭ𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔫

A/N: OHHHH we’re starting like this??? Yes. Yes, we are. 😌 Welcome to the fic where the Batfamily fumbled so hard they created a monster. A genius. A legend. And then had the audacity to be surprised when they saw what they lost. This is not your usual redemption arc. This is the reckoning. This is "you had one job and still chose emotional neglect" energy. This is found-family-who-found-better-family energy. So grab a snack. Grab your emotional support crowbar. It’s time to show them what happens when you build yourself from the ashes they left you in.

Thank You @arislia for this Idea! I don't think this is that good (suffering from writer's block😭😭) I still hope you like it!

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

You showed up at Wayne Manor the week Jason Todd’s body was lowered into the ground.

Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong life.

Grief soaked the halls like rot. No one spoke louder than a whisper. No one looked you in the eye. You were just another weight dropped onto a family already breaking.

Bruce didn’t welcome you. He tolerated you. Barely.

You could feel it every second—the tension, the blame, the absence. Jason’s ghost loomed larger than any living presence. His name was written in the silences. The locked doors. The way Bruce never quite looked at you when he spoke.

Still, you begged to stay. Begged to be part of it. You saw the cave, the mission, the masks—and you thought maybe you could matter if you bled for the same cause. You thought pain could buy you a place.

Bruce said yes.

Not out of hope.

Out of apathy.

You were never trained. You were thrown to wolves. Half-hearted lessons. Cold shoulders. Every patrol was a test you weren’t told how to pass. You were a cautionary tale in the making. The other kids avoided you. Damian sneered. Tim didn’t even register your presence.

And then you messed up.

It was supposed to be simple. In and out. You panicked. Damian got hurt. Bruce’s voice over comms was the coldest thing you’d ever heard.

You were benched. Permanently.

No conversation. No second chance. Just silence.

You became furniture in that house. A shadow. A mistake no one wanted to acknowledge. Alfred stopped knocking on your door. Meals went cold before they reached you. You were invisible—but not gone enough to be mourned like Jason.

So you pivoted.

Desperation turned inward. If you couldn’t fight beside them, maybe you could outthink them. Outshine them. Outgrow them.

You stopped sleeping. You studied until your hands shook. You pushed your body until it gave out. You vomited from stress and kept going. You begged the universe for one thing—see me.

Then came the others.

Dick came home. Tim got promoted. Cassandra arrived like poetry in motion. Bruce remarried. And the new daughter? She was everything you weren’t.

They loved her instantly. She had your dream. Your place. And she didn’t even have to ask for it.

You hated her.

You hated yourself more.

One fight. One moment of pettiness. You said something cruel. The kind of cruel that comes from years of being nothing. And they turned on you like wolves.

Even Alfred.

Especially Alfred.

They made it clear—you were the problem.

So you vanished.

Not physically. But emotionally. Mentally. You became a ghost with a pulse. But outside the Manor?

You became a monster.

You devoured every competition. Dominated every room. Wrote like your soul was burning. Played music like it was a scream for help. You climbed ranks in circles that didn’t even know what a Robin was.

Gotham called you a prodigy.

The Manor never called at all.

So you made new homes. The Queens in Star City. The Kents in Metropolis. They gave you warmth you didn’t know you missed until it wrapped around you.

Clark looked at you like you mattered. Lois praised your fire. Oliver bragged about you at every event. You were someone to them.

And that was everything.

Until the League got a threat.

Someone wanted to expose them. Hurt their families. Drag the secrets into the light.

So they gathered everyone.

And for the first time since you were benched, the Batfamily saw you again.

And they didn’t recognize what they’d thrown away.

A/N: AND THAT’S HOW YOU CLEAR A WHOLE ROOM WITH A SINGLE VIBE. They looked at you like a stranger—and you? You looked like a legacy they never deserved. This chapter is for every reader who's ever been benched, pushed aside, or underestimated. Who found their worth in new rooms, louder voices, and softer families. You weren’t broken. You were unseen. And now? Now they see you. Too late. 😈 Next chapter? Gloves off. Power on. Let’s give them something to regret.

—Your drama-feeding, applause-giving, justice-wielding author 💅🖤✨

Taglist: @feral-childs-word, @trashlanternfish360, @astro-girly1, @suneaterscape, @thatcatladywrites, @arislia, @kittzu, @ottjhe, @tinybrie, @wpdarlingpan, @ryuushou, @simpingpandas

Let me know if I missed someone!

[sunderwight]

Thinking about what if SJ had left the Qiu manor a little earlier (some other final straw breaks the camel's back sooner), and actually manages to get a lead on YQ and follows it to Cang Qiong Mountain while YQ is in the thick of his "locked suffering in a cave" arc.

SJ arrives and is immediately struck by the needle-in-a-haystack-ness of the situation. The population of all the peaks put together is huge, and he has no clout to leverage, no reason to get people to care what he's there for and a strong reluctance to tip his hand about... basically anything. Even totally earnest intentions to find his childhood friend.

So SJ skips the usual disciple trials (none are being held at the time he arrives anyway) and just steals a disciple uniform for An Ding. An Ding has a lot of outer disciples. SJ doesn't even know which peak it is, he just sees the place that has the most faceless/nameless lackeys doing grunt work and goes okay, I bet they don't always know all their own by name and face, and he's correct.

The bluff works hilariously well. When he gets back to An Ding with his "fellow" disciples he just finds an unused storage room to sleep in, and even when he gets sort-of caught out at it the shixiong who catches him just bemoans the hazing/bullying on the peaks. When SJ establishes that he's fine sleeping in the store room, Shang-shixiong even bribes him to keep his mouth shut about the "bullying epidemic" by giving him a proper cot and blankets to use. So SJ doesn't even have to deal with being in a dorm.

He multitasks actually learning what cultivation he can from the other An Ding disciples and masters, and investigating all the other latest arrivals to the peaks. It isn't long before Shang-shixiong spills the beans about the rising star of Qiong Ding Peak, who came from apparently nowhere during the selection trials, matches Yue Qi's description, has the same surname, and disappeared mysteriously a few weeks ago.

Shen Jiu's gut twists around at word of the disappearance. He is all too aware of the kinds of things it usually means when handsome, talented boys with no family or backing just disappear mysteriously all of a sudden. He's heard things about the sort of uses cultivators have for people with a lot of raw talent and not a lot of knowledge or protection, too. Qiu Jianluo used to make it a point to explain exactly what SJ's cultivation talents could be used for (cauldron stuff), both as a threat and also as a warning against him trying to go outside and find a master. Even Yue Qi had sort of tried to warn him, in his own way, by demanding SJ always keep it a secret.

Yue Qi might have believed that the righteous cultivators in an official sect wouldn't stoop to such dirty, underhanded methods, and might have thought he was safe here. SJ holds no such optimistic illusions. The An Ding peak lord give every impression of the same kind of sycophantic public servants who used to take kickbacks from wealthier families in his home city, and even only glimpsed at a distance, the sect leader gives him the creeps.

Anyway, SJ eventually figures out that something is up with the Ling Xi caves, goes down and finds a sealed-off cavern with just a few cracks he can peer through. Cue reversal of the last time he saw Yue Qi, with the older boy now being the one locked away by a cruel master, and SJ having to whisper reassurances and promises of rescue.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 008 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. unedited.

notes. thank you to everyone who waited patiently, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3 this will be the beginning of kiyoomi arc!

wc. 11k

series masterlist | next

[ EIGHT ] all they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride – the only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife

The Kingdom of Inarizaki was at a loss whether to celebrate the early return of the latest married couple from their honeymoon. The couple seemed to be doing great – according to the tabloids, anyway. When they arrived, the Princes and their wives waved to the people, all eager for a glimpse of the infamous couple who had married for love. For two years, society had their eyes on you – the shy, reserved noblewoman who caught the eye and heart of their one and only Crown Prince Suna Rintaro. And oh, what a wedding it was, broadcasted all over the world and celebrated like a holiday.

What the world didn’t know was that it was an entirely different story behind the Palace walls.

You may share a bedroom, but never the bed. You’d been acquainted with the couch for the next few nights, only seeing your husband once in the mornings before he left to do his duties, and every now and then when the Queen wanted to have dinner. Not that you were complaining – the space was most appreciated. Without Suna lingering, there’d be less reminders of how much of a fool he took you. A naïve, young woman who really deluded herself into believing a Prince could want her. Although…

Suna didn’t not want you, either.

In the few spaces in between, he would look for you. He would make small talk and ask if you’ve eaten. If you liked breakfast, which was a silly question, since it was always tea and waffles. If you enjoyed yourself while he was away, this, again, was a silly question. You spent the mind–numbing hours blaming yourself for being in this predicament. That, perhaps, if you had just been brave to walk away that night you found out the truth, then you wouldn’t be out here wondering if the maids’ whispers were true – that Suna spent most of his nights at Belleview Manor, because quote unquote, “he was unwelcome in his own quarters.”

As if somehow it was your fault he did not feel comfortable to sleep under the same roof with you.

Sighing, you flipped your novel closed. No one had given you official duties yet, other than the blatantly obvious one of giving the Crown Prince an heir. ‘They will have such sleepless nights!’, the Queen’s goons crooned. ‘So young and virile, they are, we’ll have a new Crown Prince in no time!’ Oh, if only it were that easy. If there were to be a Prince, Iris would most likely be the mother, considering he saw her more often than you did. And how funny of a thought that was – you wanted distance from him, yet something died inside you little by little the colder your room got.

“Since we have returned, my schedule will be full.”

You glanced up from where you sat. Suna had sauntered back into the room, his tie loosened; hair messed up like he ran his fingers through it several times. Already, a servant stood beside him to comb his hair back neatly. You couldn’t help but stare. How long had it been since you combed his hair for him? You knew he hated it when they gelled it back. He preferred it messy and unkempt, saying his bedroom hair felt most natural. The bedroom hair he’s shown only to you in the quiet breaks of the night when he was in your bed.

The bedroom hair Iris had seen, as well.

Just the thought of it forces a smile on your face. Standing up, you brushed off the imaginary dust off your skirt. Less than a week in the Palace, and you were already so miserable. You could at least try to look less bothered by his unrequited affections.

“Do what you must.”

Once his hair had been brushed to perfection, Suna gestured for his servant to step away. The man politely bowed down before exiting the room. “I mean to say,” he continued, stepping closer now that there was no one else around. Your breath hitched the closer he got, but you dared not move, not even when his warm, familiar hand cups the curve of your cheek. “The meetings I must attend and people to deal with will take up most of my time.”

You knew what he was trying to say – that he wouldn’t be around, and you had to entertain yourself in his absence. Gently, you take a step back from his touch, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“And as I have said, do what you must. I have my own duties to fulfill as well.”

“You do not sound bothered by this.”

“Why should I be?” you shrugged, “If I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life, surely I can enjoy what little time left I have for myself.”

Suna’s lips thinned. “You could act a little less eager to get rid of me.”

“On the contrary, I have no intention of leaving.”

“So I will see you tonight?”

“If we run into each other at the palace, yes, yes you will.”

If he seemed discontent with your half–hearted response, he did not show it. Must be the practiced regality and composure befitting for a Crown Prince like him – all lazy, yet wary, watching eyes. He, too, must know the true meaning behind your words. There was no need to pretend.

You both knew Suna would run into Belleview Manor as soon as the night ends, and his duties for the day had been tended to. Meanwhile, his wife would stay up all night in her couch.

Not quite waiting for him, but not quite imagining if he slept better at her side, either.

It was an unspoken deal between you two already. So he leaves without another word, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when the door finally slams shut.

Tears prick at your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were tired of this. Tired of not knowing where you truly were in his life – were you his wife, his friend? After you’d heard of his passion and dedication to Iris, you weren’t so evil to stop him from seeing her. He loved her first. And you of all people should know the pain of not having the one person you wanted most. To him, she was his unattainable treasure. She was already making him smile before you even came to his life. She was already offering companionship and the comfort he desperately needed in this tiresome world of politics and power. She was his solace in all this chaos.

And you… you were just his wife. And without a baby in your belly, you might as well be just another useless figure in the Palace.

You refused to be so.

You may be worthless to him as his wife, for you truly couldn’t have his heart, but you refused to be a worthless person. Deep down, you knew you weren’t. It was just the title of ‘Princess’ that made you feel incapable and short. Did that mean you weren’t meant to be Princess, then? Should you go back to your manor, learning how to handle the household and managing the family business like your parents taught?

If you were not for Suna, did that mean you were not for the Crown, as well?

You bit your lip in contemplation. There was only one person who could provide you a solution to this.

“It is not every day I am summoned by a Princess,” a smooth, deep voice filtered through the garden. Smiling, you stood up to greet the Third Prince. A curtsy, a bow, and soon you two were sipping tea – the momentary peace a guise of what was to come. Kita must have sensed it, too, his gaze flitting over your pinched face with understanding and patience. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of your honeymoon.”

You grimaced. “Definitely not. There were no pleasantries to begin with.”

His face fell.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you… My apologies. I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”

Nodding, you set your tea town. You had a feeling he truly meant his apology, which felt good, seeing as most of the Princes had too much pride to know the word ‘sorry.’ But you hd always known that Prince Kita was unlike the other Princes – he had more honor, and a stronger sense of morality compared to his brothers. Maybe it was due to his being raised by his mother, who was a lawyer, and therefore was not so exposed to the greed and competition experienced by the other Princes.

Whatever it was, he was just different. And you could rely on him to be truthful, too.

“Have you always known about them?” you muttered, refusing to look at the Prince’s face in fear of being met with pity. That was the last thing you wanted – to be seen as the poor, unwanted wife. “Iris and Rintaro?”

“I have.”

“I see.”

Kita sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Princess. I never meant to keep it from you. None of us did – except for those truly involved. It was just… I grew up with them, too. Keiji and I were only a year ahead of Rintaro and Iris. When I heard the Crown Prince had become acquainted with a foreign royal scholar, we didn’t think too much of it. Her sudden marriage with Kiyoomi surprised us all, and none of us would’ve thought that her friendship with Rintaro would turn into something more.”

“You don’t need to explain all of this to me, Your Highness.”

“Perhaps, but…” reaching over the table, the Prince squeezed your knuckle. You chuckled, not having realized you’d balled up your hands into a fist. It turned out you couldn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, to act like you didn’t care how much it all hurt. “I do not want you to think I am not on your side.”

“You do not need to be on my side. He is your brother.”

“Blood means little to me when my own kind is cruel to others,” he retorted, looking offended you would suggest otherwise. “I have always been against it, Princess. I told him from the beginning that to covet one’s brother’s wife is one thing, but to involve someone else, all for his selfish reason of ascending a throne that was always rightfully his just seemed heartless.”

Heartless. Gods. To know that your husband was capable of being cruel was one thing, but to hear it coming from his own brother’s lips was another.

“But Rintaro is Rintaro. Of course he is stubborn.”

“Indeed, he is,” Prince Kita sighed in defeat, leaning back against his seat as he stroked his chin in thought. “Princess, while I cannot guarantee I can take all of your woes away, I want you to know you can trust me. If there is anything you need, let me know and I will do it for you. It’s the least I can do to make your stay here in the Palace tolerable.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do, and I am a man of my word.”

“Then I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush,” you gritted your teeth, forcing the words to come out.

It had always been a lingering thought at the back of your mind – to leave Rintaro – but there was this prideful, equally stubborn voice at the back of your head telling you it was too early to give up. That you needed to fight. But what was there to fight for? It wasn’t like Rintaro would learn to love you. And neither do you plan on wooing him. So, instead, you swallowed up your pride and called for Kita, knowing he would never judge you for the choices you were about to make.

“I actually called for you today because I wish to discuss royal marital laws, possibly with your mother. She would know about it best.”

“You need legal counsel,” he caught on, and you nod, “I can arrange that. I assume you want it discreetly, too. That is no problem at all. But if I may be bold, I wish to ask something from you in return.”

“Name your price.”

“It is about this maid that I am fond of. Airi,” her name came out breathily from his mouth, almost like a whisper. You noticed the Prince glancing around the empty garden almost warily, though you already took measures to ensure no one would be around to witness this conversation. Reassured, Kita sat up straighter and looked you in the eye, nothing but sincerity and determination in his expression. “I will do anything you ask of me, as long as it is within legal reasons, if you take her in as your personal maid.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you having affections for a maid in your quarters,” you mumbled, feeling almost sorry for the kind–hearted Prince. It seemed he, too, did not escape the heartbreaking torment for falling for a person you could never have. “So it is true, after all.”

“It is. You seem surprised about it. Is it so shocking to learn of a Prince having genuine feelings for another?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I think I should know best that passion is something you brothers certainly have,” you snort, and Kita fights back a grin. “Very well, then. I will take care of your lovely maid, although I do wish to know – why are you assigning her to me? Have you… done anything to stain her honor?”

The color seeped out of the Prince’s face.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.”

Kita’s shoulders squared before he exhaled. “Airi is… Ever since I set my sights on her, she has been in danger. People have been very unkind towards her, especially with the staff in my quarters. And as much as I would love having her by my side in my every waking hour, it would break my heart to know that she is being looked down upon simply because I admire her. But I figure with her at your side, with a new assignment, she will have some peace.”

Your heart ached for him. You could tell this was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if he wanted to ensure his lover’s well-being.

“You can still see her, Your Highness. It’s not like I will take her away from you.”

“I wouldn’t let you, either, but these are very difficult times for everyone in the Palace. The security of the throne weakens every day. The Parliament is restless, and there is only so little I can do with all these failed unions,” he rattled on, eyes widening when he realized it too late. Bowing his head, the Prince’s brows furrowed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to–”

“Our marriage is not a failed union. Not yet. I will make certain it will not be a failure.”

It couldn’t be a failure. There was only one way out of this dreadful marriage, and as much as you hated it, that exit only existed in a path where you had no choice but to let him be a great King. This is why you need Kita’s mother’s counsel. Surely there could be a loophole in the clause that would invalidate the marriage. But until that opportunity presents itself, you were stuck here in this Castle, surrounded by everyone but your husband.

You had to make it work.

“With all due respect, Princess,” sighs the Prince, looking more remorseful than irritated. “Why is it that you try so hard? You do not need to stay with him, you know. It may be against the law for royal marriages to be annulled, but surely we can find a way. You do not need to torture yourself by spending one more day with your husband.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because,” you croaked out, feeling a lump grow in your throat. “Because loving him is all I had known, and perhaps it is time I learn to despise him, as well.”

Silence stretches. The prince sat there, unmoving, as your words hang in the thick air between you two. You knew he would understand; he wouldn’t judge. But there is still concern in his handsome features that made you realize how pitiful you really are. And maybe there was no one else to blame but yourself, because you were foolish, and in love. But you were trying – by the Gods, you really were doing your best – to just be in love and not have to be foolish anymore.

Kita could see this as well. Your strength, your grit. He could see everything from where he sat, and that was why he simply nodded. “Are you getting there yet?”

“I will get there someday.”

Before the Prince could say anything else, a servant appeared from the bushes. He looked sheepish upon the intrusion, an apologetic smile on his face directed to the Prince. “Your Highness. It is time for your lessons.”

The Prince sent you a knowing look. This was not to be the last time you see each other, and you smiled up at him, grateful. It felt good to have at least one person you could lean on in the Palace. You stood up, too, shaking his hand just as his servant excused himself. If your memory did not fail you, the Third Prince studied law outside of the Palace and had to attend university, unlike his brothers who had chosen to indulge in their promised wealth after graduating high school.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to, but my words still ring true – I am only a call away should you need me.”

“Thank you so much for your time, my Prince.”

“It was my pleasure. I will inform you right away of my mother’s availability.”

“Oh, and Princess,” piped up the servant from somewhere around the bushes, “Princess Maiko is looking for you. She is waiting for you in her drawing room.”

You should’ve expected that Princess Maiko would come looking for you. The whole ordeal she witnessed back at your rest house must have come as a shock for her. Sure, her marriage didn’t go so well, either, but at least Tooru hadn’t gone around sleeping with someone else. For a man who didn’t want to get married, he kept to his vow of loyalty to his wife. Still, you didn’t want this to be a competition on who had it worse – Maiko was simply worried, and you had to explain yourself for your untoward behavior on everyone’s getaway.

“Princess! Oh my gosh – how are you?! I was worried sick!”

“Princess,” you return her hug, smiling despite the fact the smaller Princess had a bone–crushing grip. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am well.”

“Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be,” she pulled back with tears in her eyes. You almost apologized on the spot now that you remembered demanding to return to the City without informing the others why. Especially not Maiko, who seemed to be clueless. “I… I heard from Tooru about everything. The entire situation with Iris and the Crown Prince – truly, I did not know a single thing. If I had, I would have told you right away.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for your support.”

You squeeze her hand in reassurance, and the Princess leads you to sit on the couch. She slumps on it rather ungracefully, her innocent, wide eyes moist as she shakes her head.

“I had no idea Iris could do that. I just… the moment she arrived in the palace, she was so lovely, you know? She was always a little reserved, and liked to keep to herself, but I never would’ve guessed. I truly thought she was a good friend of mine, and now I have no idea who she really is.”

“Neither did I.”

“How are you, though? And please, tell me the truth. You do not need to pretend all is well.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I am the Crown Prince’s wife. I must learn to be strong.”

“You mustn’t torture yourself any longer,” she licks her lips, chuckling without a trace of humor in it. “Although I do not blame you for staying in a marriage without love,” she smiled sadly, holding your hand firmer where it sat on her lap. “What do you plan to do?”

“I will divorce him,” you announced, and finally saying it loud felt different than just having the thought float in your head. It now felt like a reality. A choice you had to be firm in making. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but glance at the beautiful wedding ring sitting on your finger – how just like your marriage, it is sparkling yet meaningless.

Leaving him would be the right choice. It would not mean you were weak.

“Once I meet with Kita’s mother and work our way around the law… I’m going to leave him. If it is a proper marriage he wants, then it is the one thing he will not get,” braving to look her in the eyes, you force a determined smile. “I believe it is the right thing to do, Your Highness. I must pick my battles wisely.”

“I understand, and I support you if this is what you want to do.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Although…”

“Although?”

“I still find it hard to believe,” she quipped, momentarily letting go of your hand as she stood up, pacing around the room. Her dark hair, neatly braided and adorned with headpieces, slowly started falling into curled pieces around her delicate face with how fast she’d been pacing. Almost as if her feet couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts. “Iris and Kiyoomi had been married for five years, and Tooru told me they’d loved each other long before then. I am aware I am not the best at reading the room, but surely I am not so foolish to miss the love in their eyes. I would have known, Your Highness, I swear.”

You smile, confused. “I… am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I mean Iris never looked in love,” she reiterated. “Granted, she was never affectionate with Kiyoomi, so that much is clear, but with the Crown Prince? They barely even speak to each other.”

“You couldn’t have known if they did spend time together,” you told her as softly as you could, “I heard they often hid in Belleview Manor, away from the eyes of the public.”

“But I live here,” she argued, and you stopped trying to butt in. For such a small thing, you had already learned once Maiko had her head set on something, almost nothing could stop her. “I live in Honor Hall, just five minutes away from them! I could have heard something. And on the few times I do see them together, Iris had always seemed… walled off. If Rintaro was able to display his affections openly, Iris was not the same. That night you weren’t at the house, they did not seem like a happy couple to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Maiko shook her head again, causing more curls to loosen. “They seemed familiar with each other, but not intimate. It was almost as if they were lovers purely in the bedroom, but they couldn’t have known each other’s heart,” her eyes lit up, before it dimmed again when she took in your somber expression. “I do not mean to give you false hope, Princess, but believe me. I know a man in love when I see one, and it is not the Crown Prince with Iris. But… but when you were not married yet, everyone could tell the Crown Prince smiled more. He laughed often, too, and he even spent more time with his brothers.”

“Well, that is only natural. He has a lot of siblings. Of course he would enjoy their company.”

“No, no, you do not understand, Princess. The Crown Prince… didn’t grow up that way,” she bit her lip, and then scooted next to you. “As the only son of the King and Queen, he was already more important than the rest. Because of that, he was raised differently – away and isolated from his brothers. He was always tutored alone, and never played with the other Princes. He spent his childhood locked up in his study, but then the Queen allowed him to attend regular school, and when he graduated… he met you. And I swear, he was different then.”

“Because he already met her,” you remarked, hoping she would stop already. Rintaro does not love you. “He’d become happier because Iris was already in his life.”

“I went to the same school with them; grew up with them. I had crushed on Prince Tooru for so long that I followed wherever he went, and where Tooru was, the Crown Prince would follow. They were born just months apart. And Iris never made the Crown Prince look… look…”

“Look what?”

“Look content,” she finally supplied. “But when the Crown Prince introduced you to us, he had this look on his face. When you spoke to others, he would always be looking at you, listening to your every word. Even when you were not in the same room, he would speak fondly of you. And he even once told me he still could not believe someone as precious as you had been attending the same lousy balls he’d been enduring all his life. He said that if he had met you earlier, he might have never skipped out attending the dances.”

“I don’t know,” your lips trembled, “I do not know what to do, Princess. Hearing of this does not make it any better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you must understand,” she squeezed your hand, desperation evident in her tone. “Your husband looks at you the way I wished mine would at me. He may say otherwise, but his eyes cannot lie. He softens when you are around, Princess. That night you did not return home at Greenville, the Crown Prince could not sleep at all. And these past few days…”

“I believe that is enough. I do not wish to hear how he spent his nights at Belleview.”

“He didn’t, Your Highness. The Crown Prince has never even spoken to Iris ever since we returned from your honeymoon.”

Rintaro could count the number of things pissing him off with one hand.

One: You had barely acknowledged his existence the past few days.

Two: Iris wouldn’t stop pulling him into dark, secluded corners in the Castle each time she chanced upon him. Two-point-five: She couldn’t understand he was not in the mood for another one of their trysts.

Three: Kiyoomi skipped another meeting concerning Itachiyama again.

Seriously, Rintaro understood being a Prince was tiresome work. It was not as grandiose as the tabloids made it out to be. Even in his sleep, he sometimes dreamt of paperwork, or he would wake up in the middle of the night with his hands signing off imaginary papers. The pressure was tougher on Kiyoomi, too, because he was expected to be ready to take after Wakatoshi at any time he even faltered – note: the First Prince never did – and to also act as representative for the other territory thanks to his birthright. But his brother was an hermit, and seemed to fear the sunlight, considering he never left his quarters. Or on the rare occasions he did, he would be hiding away in other countries doing who knows what.

He had just finished a meeting with some of the territory leaders regarding a public complaint that the price of goods had gone up, and some daily necessities were now ridiculously overpriced. One of the main suppliers of good livestock and coconuts, Itachiyama, made it even more expensive – not for any good reason, just that their leader loved to remind Inarizaki constantly that they needed him more than he needed the monarchy.

His goading affected his people, and Rintaro has had enough. Kiyoomi could at least try to pretend to be interested in the meetings. Out of all the nine princes, Kiyoomi was the most influential for being a half-blood. The Itachiyama president adored him. He wouldn’t have had to struggle negotiating for prices had he been doing his work. He was the damned mediator between the two countries, for goodness’ sake!

And to make it all worse, his life did not get any better outside the meeting rooms.

No, because his wife was intent on acting like he did not exist. And on the few times he did manage to be in the same space as you without you running off, you always looked through him. Like he wasn’t even a real person. As if he was just an apparition, a ghost in your mind that you could overlook if you tried hard enough.

He already knew you wouldn’t be in your quarters once he returned, but Rintaro still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment washing over him. He chose you to be his future Queen for many reasons, one of them being your wisdom in these kinds of things. You just needed a little encouragement to speak up, but Rintaro was confident you would make a great leader. You had genuine care for your people. You would have been able to help him make the best decisions for everybody – if you would just listen to him. Wasn’t that how marriages work? To share the burden of the Crown together? The Crown was too heavy for one person alone, which is why Kings cannot be crowned without their Queens.

Rintaro couldn’t do it alone. Each day was becoming more challenging for him, and he so desperately wished he could discuss the country’s future with you. He would feel more confident in his choices. He would be more reassured that he was doing the right thing, but it seemed that all he knew how to do lately was fuck everything up.

On his way back, Rintaro stopped trying to look regal. He let his shoulders slump and ran his fingers through his hair again. The gel be damned. Loosening his tie, he rolled his shoulders back and winced at how stiff his back was. Sitting on his ass all day long, having to listen to old men argue back and forth over money, and simultaneously having to deal with a marriage he’d already screwed over – Rintaro just wanted to disappear.

He wanted to return to Greenville.

It was peaceful there. People minded their own business, everyone had their own purpose and reason for waking up each day and there, he could just be himself. Not the Crown Prince, not a young man who had to hurt you for the sake of the throne. He could just… be free.

“Your Highness,” a servant bowed in front of him, keeping a respectful distance but enough to let him know he needed his attention.

“Good evening,” he greeted back, “Have you seen my wife?”

“Her Highness was with Princess Maiko this morning. Last I heard, she has not left the Palace, at all.”

“I see,” Rintaro was already moving towards Honor Hall before his feet could register it. It was a good twenty minute walk, and the chances of running into Iris weren’t miniscule, but it would be worth it. He could use some fresh air, anyway. And he figured with Maiko around, you would be less opposed to spending the evening with him – until he realized Maiko must have known everything, too. How he manipulated you, and left you in the middle of nowhere.

On second thought, having two Princesses who clearly did not welcome him would not make for a great night.

“My Prince!”

Rintaro stopped on his tracks. He had a split second to school his expression to surprise – the good kind – when he came face to face with the last woman he wanted to see.

“Mother,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst she fanned herself. “I wasn’t informed you would be visiting.”

She waved her fan around. “Oh, I had to nearly knock down the guards when they wouldn’t let me in, but I had to see my daughter. I heard from the news that you came home too early. Well, what is wrong? Is she sick? Does she not like the countryside? Or perhaps there was an emergency you had to attend to?” fanning herself harder, Rintaro’s hand wound at the small of her back to guide the older woman into a nearby seat. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls, and I am worried, my son.”

“Your concern for her will put her at ease, I’m certain,” he reassured, swallowing the uncomfortable lump growing in his throat. “This is just… a difficult time for us, Mother. I fear Her Highness is having doubts about our marriage once she saw how overwhelming the Crown could be. She simply wished to return home because she felt there were things to be done here.”

Your mother sighed and shook her head. “My poor daughter. She always felt the need to prove her worth by working herself to death,” spinning to face him, she pointed her fan in his direction – which would be considered a threat to the Crown Prince, but she was his mother–in–law. Her presence itself was a threat to his life. “Promise me you won’t let her exhaust herself, son. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“She is in good hands, Mother, I promise you this.”

Pleased with him, your mother beamed. “I was also… Well, I may be crossing the line, but now that you tell me my poor daughter is anxious about her royal duties, I was planning to hold a ball in her honor. A welcoming ball for the new Princess, of sorts. It should help her integrate into your world better, but still with the comfort of our support.”

“A ball sounds lovely. We can hold it anytime as we are still in our honeymoon period and she will be free for quite some time.”

“That is perfect! I will make the arrangements, then.”

Wearing his best Prince Charming smile, even if he was anything but, Rintaro found himself mindlessly agreeing to everything your mother wanted. He would have to squeeze all these events in his already hectic schedule, but he was not complaining. She was right. You deserved to relax and enjoy yourself. He should know best that having royal titles did not promise a life of gallivanting and endless tea parties. Once your mother had exhausted herself from all the planning, Rintaro escorted her out to the palace entrance, stopping only when your figure appeared from the corner.

Finally, you were looking at him.

But with a glare.

Well, he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“You are a far better actor than I give you credit for – lying to my mother like that.”

“I did not mean to.”

You rolled your eyes, and Rintaro bit his lip. Cute, he thought, but he would never say it out loud. He would simply enjoy the fact you did not push him away, or walk away as if you were scalded when he started walking next to you. For a moment, everything almost seemed normal. Minus the extreme glaring, of course.

“Surely. It’s not like telling her you manipulated me for the past two years was on your to-do list.”

“Do not use that tone on me.”

“I will speak with you however I wish. You do not get to tell me what to do.”

“You are right; I cannot tell you what to do, so do as you please, then,” he surrendered, and you must be surprised by how he easily gave in from the way you froze. Glaring harder, Rintaro bit his cheek, tilting his head to the side as he gazed upon your pretty face. And oh, how badly he wanted to smooth that frown you’re wearing. “I missed you. I have not seen you all day long.”

“Must have been a lovely day for you, then.”

It was hell, actually, was what he wanted to say, but even that did not seem enough to articulate what he truly felt. I missed you, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Please sleep on the same bed with me again. I want to hold you all night long, and your scent calms me. But instead, all that comes out of his mouth was, “It was not lovely at all.”

“Hmm. I’m not Iris.”

“No, you aren’t.”

He agreed wholeheartedly – you were not his lover. Iris would not argue with him like this; in fact, they never argued at all. Whenever they had misunderstandings, they resolved it by taking out their frustrations on the bedroom, and the next day, all would be forgiven and forgotten. It was easier with Iris, in some ways, because with you he actually had to use his words, and he had to say the right ones. Both of which he wasn’t good at, but would try his very best anyway.

“I heard you spent the day with Maiko. How was it? Did you two have fun?”

“As fun as two women suffering at the hands of men who despise them could have.”

Rintaro took a larger step to stand in front of you, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I do not despise you.”

“Really? You made me feel otherwise.”

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again, feeling much more exhausted than he did after the meetings ended. “You do not have to make this so difficult, you know. I am trying to fix this.”

The laugh you let out is sardonic, teetering on the edges of borderline angry. But he would take it – because arguments with you were better than having you ignore him, and he would take a thousand more arguments if it meant you talked. He would consume your wrath over your coldness every other day. Even when you cross your arms and look at him like he was the most vile creature to ever walk the Earth – because your eyes are on him, and in that moment, in the middle of another of a hundred hallways in his Palace, there was no one else but you and him. A husband and his wife. A Prince and his Princess.

“Oh, are you now? Because last time I checked, you were still in love with someone else, and I’m still nothing but a pawn in your silly game.”

“I may be in love with someone else, but it was you who I couldn’t get off my mind.”

“Is that supposed to make my heart flutter?”

You reel back as if burnt, and Rintarou couldn’t fathom why your expression hurt him so much. As if his declaration, his vulnerability, of being putty in your hands repulsed you instead of excited you. However, he refused to show he hung desperately to your every word, refused to admit that you held all the power in your hands, not him. So, he plays it off, and flirtingly lifts a brow just to get you even more riled up.

“I was hoping it would.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, Rintaro, you won’t win.”

His eyes darkened. Suddenly, all self-restraint he previously had had been thrown out the window. The urge to press his lips to you – yes, those same lips scowling at him – becomes all too consuming. He fools himself into taking the heat in your eyes as desire instead of anger. And he takes one step forward, two, then three, until your back hits the wall and his large frame prevents you from escaping. He liked you best here, he realized, under his mercy and staring up at him with your soft lips, pliant and open to release a gasp when he leans in. Closer, closer, only for his lips to meet the skin of your cheek.

Rintaro stifled a disappointed groan.

Masking it with a chuckle, he trailed his lips down your cheek and to your jawline, all the way until he’s inhaling your intoxicating scent – he wants your damned perfume to stick to his skin for days to come so everyone in the Palace knows he is yours. And like a flower, you bloom only to him. Craning your neck and pushing your chest upwards to his despite your resistance, breathing hard and heavy to let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

And by the Gods, he wanted nothing more than to take you in this wall right here and then.

Brushing his lips just above your pulse point, Rintaro smiled. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was certain his was, too, when you began to crumple his shirt in your hands. “I never knew my name could sound so important without the titles attached to it.”

“Wh–what?” your query came out breathily. Not that he could blame you, for his words have also begun to sound more like a whisper.

“Rintaro,” he echoed, nosing your neck to greedily take in more of your scent. If not on his skin, then he will settle for the evidence of you all over his clothes – and damned the servants who dared wash his dress shirt. “Not Prince, not Your Highness. Just Rintaro. It makes me feel like… it is just you and I, husband and wife, as simple as that,” you draw in another gasp just as his fingers start ghosting over your waist, fighting the urge to pin you in place, or to just hold you delicately because he knew he’d broken you enough. Rintaro felt weak, his head dropping in the column of your shoulder. “I truly did miss you. And I do not like how I spent many nights, in our bed, alone.”

“You do not deserve to share a bed with me.”

“I know,” he lamented, and that firm resolve of keeping him at a distance was enough to wake him up. Pushing himself off of you, Rintaro took a solid minute to admire you like this – lips parted, expectant for a kiss, and skin flushed with a thin layer of sweat, with eyes so bewildered he could see himself clearly in the reflection – that he was just a man now, and not really the husband you wanted him to be. Once he had his fill, Rintaro smoothed down the wrinkles you fisted in his shirt and took a step back. “But you do not deserve to sleep in just a couch. Take the bed tonight. I will sleep outside.”

“But that’s–”

“I’m the one who fucked up,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his face, “So I should be the one sleeping uncomfortably. I know I cannot tell you what to do, and neither do I plan on ordering you around, but this is the one thing you cannot argue with me on. You will take the bed. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Back to titles. Back to formality. Back to reality.

“Good girl,” he murmured absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “Let us head back to our quarters. I’m buying you a new dress for the ball first thing in the morning.”

To say Rintaro had changed would be an understatement.

He was a completely different person than your husband in the honeymoon. It was as if… last night’s intimate encounter had brought him back to the Rintaro you fell in love with, but this time it felt different. He felt more intense. Maybe it was the fact that his secrets were now laid out in the open, which could mean his attentive actions toward you no longer held the purpose of winning you over. Maybe now he truly just wanted to spend time with you because he could.

Cancelling his plans for the day, he’d told the servants you were going out shopping, and oh, what a cunning, devilish Prince he is. He knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him out in public. With so many eyes watching, you spent nearly every second of the day with your arms looped around his, laughing and smiling at every word he said, and not daring to keep your eyes off him lest someone took a photographed and headlined it ‘Newly Married Royal Couple Having Their First Lovers’ Spat In Public.’ No. No, that would be catastrophic. The Queen would be furious.

Here, in public, you were forced to act sweet and touchy with him, to which the stupid Crown Prince basked in as he led you from boutique to boutique. He complimented you on everything, even when you wore a hideous bright orange gown that made even the designer flinch. But in Rintaro’s eyes, you were simply mesmerizing. He even got a suit that matched all of your dresses, claiming that everyone should know he was married to you. Everyone already knew that – the whole world knew – but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

Aside from having a day off, your husband genuinely did seem to be doing things other than paperwork.

You stopped being kind once you entered the car, however, when the windows had rolled up and you had both stopped waving to the people. Here, it was just the driver and the both of you, and the driver knew better than to comment on whatever happened, anyway. Sighing, you scooted to the other end of the seat, prying yourself off of Rintaro’s tight grip around your waist.

“Drop the act.”

“What act?”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking off your gloves and folding them neatly in your lap. “We are in the privacy of our car. You needn’t pretend any longer.”

“Who said I was pretending?”

You looked at him dead in the eye. “You are not fooling anyone. This was all a PR act – you did not actually mean whatever it is you said to me out there, but worry not. I’ll get out of your hair and divorce you – surely that will make everything easier.”

The way Rintaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head would be comical if he didn’t look so scared. In a flash, your husband crossed the distance and sat next to you, his hurried movements causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. His large hands began to engulf yours, and you suck in a breath – without the gloves, it felt more intimate. “What divorce?” he chuckled nervously, brushing his lips over your bare knuckles. It was the faintest of touches, only done to appease you, but it still didn’t stop the bolt of heat coursing through your thighs. Gods, it was just so hard trying to stay mad at him.

“You know that’s impossible. Royal marriages are forever. Look, if you truly wish to divorce me, fine. But you know you will have to help me become King first. Once I am crowned, I can write a new law that says royal couples can be separated.”

“You are despicable.”

“I am,” he whined. Whined! Seriously, who was this man? “But I promise you, if you help me, I will let you go. Look, I’ll even find a high–ranking nobleman for you. The best of the best. You wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore. Just… don’t ever mention divorce to me right now. I won’t let you.”

Scoffing, you pull your hands back from his heavenly lips. “You seriously think after everything, loneliness is somehow my biggest issue?” Rintaro opened his mouth to retort, but you shook your head, making yourself small between him and the window seat. You hated it, how helpless you felt, from wanting his touch to being burnt by it. You hated it even more how you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled, “Have you ever thought that maybe I just want to forget you?”

“I do not want you to,” he breathed out, and your eyes snapped shut when you felt his fingers brush over your cheeks. “But I am not so selfish to deprive you of a good thing. You will find someone who can love you better than I could.”

Your heart fell.

“Well, that would be easy. You never loved me to begin with.”

The Crown Prince never spoke again. You both mulled over your silences as you arrived back at the Palace, heading into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. Rintaro was to your left, taking out his razor blade and shaving foam while you stood to his right, lathering on your cleanser and toner. Thankfully, the silence did not feel as heavy as it did on the ride back home, but it was still far from being comfortable. It was only after you’d moisturized and turned to leave the room that Rintaro caught your wrist, glancing down at you with a pleading expression.

“Please. Can we stop fighting? I thought today was fun. Let us not end it hating each other.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, if I ruined your precious day,” you snapped, leaning back to examine how he missed a spot below his jaw. A slight stubble was visible, but you had to stop your hand from reaching out to him. You sighed. “All this space in the Palace and they couldn’t give us separate bathrooms?”

“Traditionally, royal married couples slept in separate rooms. Everything was separate, too, including bathrooms,” he gestured around you, “Perhaps you would’ve liked the old ways.”

Screw it. The small talk is the most awkward thing you have ever experienced.

“…You missed a spot,” you finally mumbled, taking his razor from him and gesturing for him to crouch down so you can reach. “Do you want me to finish it?”

Rintaro, despite his surprise, nodded and obeyed. It must have been uncomfortable for him to slouch, but he did so without complaints. He let you shave him as you saw fit, turning his head side to side, lathering on more foam, and you watched as his shoulders visibly deflated. Eyes fluttering close, Rintaro sighed, the tips of his fingers gingerly tracing circles as they laid beside your hips.

“You will take the bed as discussed,” he reminded, “You will not argue with me on this.”

“Okay,” you answered, because you, too, had no energy for more arguments. Once you were done with him, you wiped off the rest of the foam with a warm, wet towel. You both left the bathroom and went your separate ways – you to your king–sized bed, and him just outside the bedroom and into the lounge room, where you spent the past few nights sleeping. You realized he must not be sleeping well from it because of his large frame, yet Rintaro did not seem to mind.

Just as he was about to close the door, he lingered for a few beats.

“Thank you for going along the happily married couple act today,” he said, lifting his gaze from the carpeted floors to gaze into your eyes. “And for the record, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

Then he turned, and swiftly closed the door, leaving you to be with your thoughts – all filled of him.

It didn’t help that the sheets and pillows still lingered with his scent.

You had your upcoming ball to thank for distracting you from your confusing feelings for your husband. That in itself was such a ridiculous statement, but one that ringed true. After Rintaro’s surprising gentleness, and the revelation from Maiko that he hadn’t spoken at all with Iris, you were now in a dangerous zone called Getting Your Hopes Up. Truly, you should know better. You had known Rintaro for years to know he could be effortlessly charming. He could have you wrapped tight around his finger, smiling like a lovesick fool, only for him to break your heart once more.

If not for that cold, hard truth, you would have invited him to bed with you that night. It seemed too tempting. It felt like the right thing to do. But you didn’t, and you were glad you held back on your desire, because you weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak.

Especially because these past few days made you realize one thing – that you were still in love with him. The next morning, you found yourself wishing you had woken up next to him, and that was enough to make you avoid your husband all over again. And much to your disappointment, Rintaro stopped trying to chase after you, too, after countless rejections on your part. He had kept his distance, and only spoke with you momentarily when you arrived at your mother’s ball and had to exchange niceties with everyone.

After that, your husband excused himself and spoke with his brothers, but not after your parents couldn’t stop cooing at how adorable you and the Crown Prince were. He handled it with grace; kissing your cheek and thanking them for raising such a wonderful daughter. But the moment your parents became occupied with welcoming other guests, you were now left to entertain the other women in the ball.

Until the music began playing.

Until your song reverberated all across the room.

“This is the song you and the Crown Prince danced to the night you met,” your mother whispered beside you, giggling in your ear. “I requested it specifically for this night. Enjoy the dance with your husband. He’s already waiting.”

True to her word, you could feel Rintaro’s heated gaze on you from across the room. He’d stopped speaking with his brothers – the twins smirking beside him, Akaashi smiling at you softly, Tobio waving enthusiastically while nursing a glass of wine, and Kita firmly hovering from the walls with a concerned frown. Not that you paid attention to them. Your gaze was held by your husband and him only, bewitched as he started walking forward. The crowed parted for him like a true Prince until nothing stood in his way. Everyone smiled, giggling behind their gloves at the apparent ‘romance in the air.’ Beside you, your mother pushed you encouragingly, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting to see if you would take the Crown Prince’s outstretched hands.

“My love,” he whispered above your gloved hands, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn’t call you Princess, or Your Highness. You knew it was for the sake of keeping appearances, but by the Gods, you loved him. You were so hopelessly in love with your husband that you placed your heart in his hands once more, silently pleading with him not to break it as he led you in the middle of the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, your hand resting on his shoulder as naturally as his arms came to your waist. The exact same movements from the night you first met, with the same song, but with your love for him stronger tonight than it did when you first laid your eyes on him.

This time, you danced as man and wife, and you recalled his words from the other day.

How there were moments it seemed so simple – where there were no titles, just you and him, having this dance like it was the most natural, inexplicable thing in this world.

The chord struck. The crowd parted. He took the first step in the dance, and you took a step back. Not once did you tear your gaze away from him, happily drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes you could look at forever. And isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To spend a lifetime with him, to grow old together. It would have been so easy if it weren’t for –

“Don’t think about anything else,” your husband shook his head lightly, “Just enjoy this moment. Tonight, there is only you and I.”

“Okay,” you found yourself nodding, and his grip on your waist tightened for a second. “Just you and I.”

Rintaro’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “Just you and I.”

You and him in those moments – you felt immortal. Like nothing could stand in your way. Or perhaps you could die tonight, and you would die happy. Because you were in your husband’s arms, and he was looking at you and only you, murmuring how you were becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day. You were melting in his arms, like goo. Like pudding. And he was strong enough to catch you, to brush his nose against yours at each dip, or letting his lips linger on your forehead each time you came back to him with each spin.

But happy moments never lasted long enough, and soon the rotations were beginning. More couples have joined the dance floor. Through one spin, you caught sight of Tooru and Maiko. Neither of them looked happy, but Tooru visibly brightened when he caught your eye, and shamelessly winked. On the other side of the room danced Iris and Kiyoomi, with the latter looking so nauseous you worried dinner would be spilled on your mother’s floor. And then too soon, Rintaro’s hands were leaving yours as he moved to the nearest dance partner, and you were caught by a pair of strong, muscled arms.

“My turn,” Tooru teased, a grin now on his handsome face as he nudged his head in Rintaro’s direction. He was now dancing with your mother, and you could tell, even from this distance, the smile he wore was genuine. “Should I beat him up?”

You chuckled, throwing your head back. Despite his jokes and jabs, Prince Tooru was a surprisingly great dancer – less stiff than Rintaro, and more confident in his receiving when you spun and dipped. But dancing with him did not feel the same. There was no passion, no yearning, no longing – just the lighthearted air of good humor and his calming nature.

“I don’t think beating the Crown Prince up would be a very wise decision.”

“Indeed, but I was never the Prince known for making wise decisions. That would be more Shinsuke’s forte,” he snorted, and the song reached a part for another rotation. However, Tooru refused to let you go and intentionally spun you away from what was supposed to be your next dance partner. Out of shock, you slapped his chest, and his broad chest rumbled with laughter.

“Your Highness! That was unbelievably rude!”

“As I have said,” you both laughed when he spun you again, “I am not the Prince known to be socially adept.”

You bent over in giggles, your head resting on his chest as you danced more throughout the night. Your feet were getting tired, but your mother was right – this was a night to enjoy. You danced to your heart’s content, exchanging jokes with the handsome Fifth Prince until you craned your neck to the side, only to be stopped by Prince Tooru’s large hand. This time, he no longer smiled as he gazed upon the dancing partners behind you, and your skin turned cold.

You had a feeling you knew exactly why.

“Don’t look. You won’t like what you’ll see.”

Nodding, you pursed your lips and forced a smile at him. “It’s okay, Princess,” he comforted, “Just look at me. You need not concern yourself with others.”

So you danced, and danced, until you could hear your father pleading with the Fifth Prince to give his daughter back because he didn’t get a chance to have a dance with you yet. Reluctantly, Tooru handed you over to your father, but not without a faux frown.

“That was a lovely dance, Your Highness. I wish we could’ve danced more.”

“I think we danced enough.”

Tooru’s smile was guarded; secretive. “I’m afraid it was not enough.”

You danced with your father next. And it was lovely, seeing him up close with all his smile lines and wrinkles. You missed him so, dearly, and he felt the same way. It hurt having to lie to him when he asked how you were settling in the Palace, but you didn’t want to concern him with your personal matters, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with you if your father disliked Rintaro. So you swallowed your discomfort down and told him everything was great – silently wishing he wouldn’t pry further. He didn’t. And when the song slowed, your father kissed you on the cheek before letting you meet with your next dancing partner.

Stood in front of you was a great wall of what could only be described as majestic. Dressed in white with gold ornaments, Prince Kiyoomi’s curls framed his handsome face beautifully. You had been so accustomed seeing him in more comfortable clothing, and in the privacy of his own home, that seeing him out here in society, it reminded you that he, too, was a Prince.

The Second Prince – the would have been next King should Ushijima and Rintaro falter.

“My Prince.”

“Princess,” he bowed, taking your hand in his as you made your way back to the dance floor. The music played again, this time louder, and the Prince leaned down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. You repressed a gasp, unable to help yourself from digging your nails into his palm when you were greeted by how good he smelled – like mint, new leather, and pine. It also dawned on you how tall and firm the Prince was – perhaps taller and more muscular than Rintaro.

“Y–Yes, Your Highness?”

“Remind me to thank your mother for extending her invites to the forgotten Prince. Imagine my shock when I saw her invitation letter this morning.”

You chuckled nervously, thankful that he had now slightly tilted his head back. “I hardly doubt you are a forgotten prince.”

He snorted, effortlessly spinning you with one hand. “It’s not like I do my duties to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I truly was forgotten,” distracted by his scent, you unknowingly stepped on the hem of your dress and slipped backwards. A scream nearly tore out your throat when the Prince’s large hands cupped the small of your back, your chest pressed to his and his curls brushing against your cheeks as he held you close. “Careful.”

“Th–thank you.”

You were a mess after that. You were never the best dancer, but something about being in the older Prince’s presence made you extra nervous. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He simply danced with grace, and hid his grimace well each time you stepped on his toes. He had also convinced you to stop apologizing every time you did, and by the time the dance was over, you were more than ready to disappear.

“Thank you for the dance, my Prince,” you bowed, words hurried, “I shall see you–”

“Kiyoomi!” a woman appeared out of nowhere, her thick, dark curls pinned up beautifully with some loose strands swaying in time with her hips. She had the same moles as Kiyoomi, and you watched, entranced, as the older woman wrapped her arm casually around the prince. The two shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Kiyoomi glanced at you, and the woman followed his line of sight. “Oh! Your Highness. Greetings. I don’t believe I have introduced myself before – I’m Kanami; Kiyoomi’s mother.”

You smiled at her, politely taking her hand as she extracted herself from her son’s arms and taken to draping herself all over you. Discomfort must be written all over your face, because the Second Prince sent an apologetic smile your way.

“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kanami. Are you enjoying the night so far? The travel all the way from Itachiyama must have been exhausting.”

“Oh, it was, but it’s all worth it now that we’ve met again!” she squealed, and you paled.

“We have met before?”

Just as she nodded and went about to retelling this so–called meeting, Iris popped up behind Kiyoomi, her smile stiff as she regarded Kanami. Instantly, your mood soured. She hadn’t spoken to you at all tonight, which you were thankful, but something about the thought of her dancing with your husband, and probably being suggestive while at it had your blood boiling.

“Mother! Such a shock seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were invited.”

Kanami barely glanced her way, her dark, curious eyes still on your face.

“Hello, Iris, and it’s Miss Sakusa, dear,” she corrected, her enthusiastic smile momentarily fading into a scowl before it returned. “Say, Your Highness, since you’re still on your honeymoon period – and I’ve heard your dear husband is too busy these days – would you want to come visit Itachiyama with me? I would be honored to be your host. It will also be a great opportunity to learn more about your Princess duties and politics!” leaning closer, she whispered behind her gloves, although her words were loud enough to be heard by Prince Tooru and Iris. “Although if I will be honest, politics does not interest me in the least bit.”

Your mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say, until you settled on chuckling and patting her hand wrapped around your arm. “I… Thank you for invitation, Kanami. I am most tempted to see your beautiful country, but Princess Iris should be the one visiting her territory, should she not?”

Kanami scrunched her nose.“The Princess never grew up in Itachiyama. She would be just as clueless as you. Besides, I have always wanted to invite you over ever since you had Kiyoomi as your last dance on your eighteenth birthday!”

“He… was?”

“He was! Don’t you remember, dear?” she turned to Kiyoomi, who looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him already. But judging by his reaction, it seemed true – Kiyoomi was your last dance on your debut ball. “Well, in that case, I was always fond of you. I may be crossing the line here, but it was always a famous royal saying that whoever was your last dance on your debutante ball was your destined lover.”

[merakiui]

perverse phantasmagoria: a tentacular theatre for the timid.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, mentions of death/murder, obsession note - something short to satisfy the craving for shadow monster azul.

The monster under your bed is a marvelous magician.

Most marvelous indeed—for he can ensorcell with all manner of fantastical tricks! In flickering candlelight, shapes shift in shadow—a rabbit hopping to and fro or a bird taking flight in a flurry of feathers. A ship sinking in a sinister sea or a worm wriggling through soil. Illusions waltz upon your wall in a graceful ballet, a comforting distraction meant to soothe you to sleep when you grow somnolent.

You are the only one to witness the magnificence of this tentacular theatre. It is confined within the cubic space that is your bedroom, a nightly display projected onto the walls and ceiling, just beyond the curtains of your creaky four-poster bed. He entertains until you’re properly heavy-eyed, slipping through the slivers of reality into fruitful slumber.

While cradled in a sea of sheets, buoyed by curious, curling limbs, you dream of devilish pleasures—of treacherous temptations so visceral they would certainly scandalize the sisters at the church.

The monster under your bed never utters a word, but you know he is there.

He is cold and calm like Death, yet merciful and mystical like an angel. He carries with him odors of the ocean, enveloping you in his briny embrace every night. Tentacles loop gently around your body, sliding beneath silken nightwear, and he plays in the same skillful way he manipulates shadow. You’re strung along the highs and lows of bodily bliss, rocked gently by a creature who dwells in the darkness.

The monster under your bed does not possess a true form, but he holds bright shallows in his eyes.

Shapeless and transient, wavering through dozens of features, he mesmerizes with his stunning hues. They blink at you in the darkness, twin beacons set into a towering lighthouse. You reach for him, pushing past pitch-black phantasmagoria, and beg to see his face. He swallows all light sources, so you will never truly know if there is anything more to those beautiful blues.

The monster under your bed does not have a name, so you call him Azul. Much like his eyes when they pin you to the bed, the name sticks.

A terrible tempest rages outside, rattling the windows in their frames, battering the glass like bullets, and howling through the trees in a most fearsome gale. You lie in your bed, wide-awake and disturbed, and gaze at the canopy. Lightning cracks across the sky in a violent arc, brightening your room for a single second. The thunder follows, rumbling in deep, foreboding notes. With a shiver, you pull your duvet up to your chin. Fear is encroaching. You steel yourself, steady your pounding heart, and inhale sharply.

The monster under your bed is gentle.

He has never hurt you and you suspect he never will. But he is vindictive, a dangerous force who lurks in forgotten corridors and corners during the day. Though he remains out of light’s reach, avoiding the sun’s fingers as they spill in from windows with parted curtains, nothing escapes his glance. He is always watching. You can feel it.

The monster under your bed is brilliant pest control.

He rids the manor of rats and insects alike, swabs the ceilings of cobwebs. He feasts on venomous spiders and snakes, blood drained from carcasses small and large. Trespassers wander far enough to find themselves tangled in the tendrils of a beast. Skeletons snap and shatter in his grasp, so startlingly fast and brutal. There isn’t a scream. No tears. He does not grant them the permission to confess last words.

Flesh rots away, stripped clean from the bone. There is no distinction to be made here. Suitors are trespassers. Thieves are trespassers. Trespassers are trespassers, and they will die as such.

The monster under your bed has a sweet tooth, a discovery you’ve only recently determined. You plate pastries and slide them under your bed, and the porcelain china is returned by morning, licked clean of crumbs.

For all of his mysterious qualities, the monster under your bed is your paramour.

“Azul,” you whisper, your voice much louder in disconcerting quiet. “Are you there, Azul?”

Shadows slither up the expanse of your mattress, crawling over wrinkled linens, to meet you in the gloom. The tip of a tentacle nudges your cheek. The monster—your monster—is here.

“A detective came by today…” Blue meets you in the dark, snapped open at once. “To inquire about a select few.”

He blinks, offering silence as his stubborn reply.

“Missing lords and ladies. They say my manor is cursed and that it is these very disappearances that keep the grounds so lush. An immature accusation.” You search the shadows for a response. “You mustn’t send them to their graves, Azul.”

Another tentacle peels the duvet back to find your hand. It fits into your palm, wrapped tight like a bow on a present. Slowly and slyly, more appendages rise from the space beneath your bed to coil around your person. They massage soothing circles into your skin, exploring eagerly and peppering your flesh in frigid kisses. The effect is soporific. You slacken against the sheets, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmh… Azul, I’m quite serious…” You close your hand around the tentacle. “You mustn’t—oh!” Your legs are yanked apart then, and a thick tentacle presses up between your thighs. You peer into his narrowed eyes. If you could see his mouth, you’re certain it’d be turned down in a petulant pout. “Won’t you listen to me?”

The tentacles curled around your thighs constrict. He teases your special spot, fine-tuning your body to sing the sweetest of songs. Two more attach to your chest like lecherous leeches, tweaking your nipples under soft suckers. You sigh, pent-up emotions unfurling from their ravel. Lightning flashes again, the rain insistent, and so he drapes a tentacle over your eyes.

“There’s no need to do that.” You run your fingers over it, but you don’t pull it off. “I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. Tell me—” you whine in relief when he pushes in, your anatomy accustomed to his size after months of midnight whimsy— “Let me… Oh, won’t you speak to me, Azul? Tell me—promise me you won’t act so callous the next time I welcome visitors.”

“Intruders,” he finally answers. Despite the malice shot through those three syllables, it is a musical intonation. His voice is deep and dulcet, tickling your ears in the best way.

“You’re being rather unfair in your narrow-minded assessment.”

“And you are not narrow-minded enough,” comes his rumbling reply, synced flawlessly with the thunder just outside. “I shall protect you and this property for as long as I continue to exist. That is my priority.”

Your lips part in a retort, but all that comes out is a shuddering sigh.

“Visitors are not villains,” you manage after you’ve found your voice. “P-Please—aah—be kind… You mustn’t hurt them. They’re—haa—only visitors. I promise you I’m safe.”

“Visitors are the same as intruders. They’re unwanted. Unnecessary. Nuisances. Pests.”

Azul rocks the tentacle deeper inside you. Your nails dig into the one in your hand, and you heave a wobbly sort of groan.

“I won’t arg—ooh—won’t argue with you. I only ask that you understand. They are not dangers.”

“They are,” he snaps, pistoning roughly. You cry out when he pierces a specific spot nestled within. “They will take you away from me. Poison your head with foolish ideas. Destroy our home…”

“T-That will never happen. Not if I can help it.”

Another beat of lightning. Thunder follows suit. Gingerly, he lifts the tentacle veiling your visage. Blue blinks back at you.

“Promise.”

His whisper is broken and sad. Strangely, your heart aches.

“Only if you promise to cease your slaughter. It’s not—” A tentacle presses against your mouth, silencing you. When it draws away to give you another chance, you sigh, knowing just what to say. “Thank you…for protecting me, Azul.”

Satisfied with your submission, he smooths his pace out into slow, sensual lovemaking. You ride the waves of mutual merriment alongside him, no longer fearing the raging storm beyond your room. The world shrinks down to fit inside your bedroom, where paradise is found in the sheets, and nothing else matters here. Swathed safely in shadow, wrapped around the monster under your bed, you drift off into sleepy delirium.

He remains, ever-present like a parasite, the sole actor standing on the stage in this thrilling, tentacular theatre.

[muffinmonstah-art]

JayDick rp story - comic page

HD version on my patreon

I drew one of the scenes from the rp story @lychee-not-dead-yet and I have going on :3

Context: Dick leaves Jason's apartment in the morning to have business lunch with Bruce. This is the inmediate aftermath of the Under the Red Hood arc. Dick has helped Jason in secret, leaving him patched up in his apartment. Bruce does not know about this, he thinks Jason is missing. Dick rolls on with the deception.

So, Jason hands Dick some lothes of his own for him to change from his Nightwing gear. Dick takes everything offered except the boxers, leaving them behind in the ground on purpose before quitting the apartment. Dick asked Jason for his phone number before leaving, and Jason saved himself as contact on Dick's phone as 'chick'. While the Dynamic Duo is driving to the manor to have lunch, 'Chick' sends Dick the picture of the boxers he left behind. Bruce now thinks Dick spent the night sleeping with one of his flings, instead of mourning/looking for his missing brother lol

[l0singsdogs]

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of reverse Robin AU fics, and while they’re amazing—each one exploring different angles, like Damian as Nightwing, Tim taking on the Red Hood arc, or even adding Cass, Duke, and Stephanie—it got me thinking. Some stories place Jason in the role of Red Robin, while Dick becomes the youngest Robin, which is always an interesting twist.

But I have this idea: what if Jason Todd—22 years old, still mending relationships with his family—ends up in one of these reverse universes? In this version, Jason has been going to the Batcave more often, having more of Alfred’s home-cooked meals, and building stronger bonds with his siblings, even if calling them "brothers" doesn’t always come naturally. He’s... fixing things. Then, suddenly, he falls into this alternate universe. He knows right away something's off—not just because of the subtle differences in Gotham, but because his smartwatch (or some kind of tech on his wrist) confirms he’s crossed into another reality. Of course. Because these things always seem to happen to him. That’s when he spots Nightwing. But this Nightwing is different—green eyes, not blue like Dick’s. The katanas catch Jason’s attention too. He knows Dick doesn’t use katanas—he prefers escrima sticks—but there’s something even more glaring: the posture, the furrowed brow, the intensity in those green eyes. Jason could recognize it anywhere. The first thing out of his mouth is:

“Damian?”

Because of course—that’s what Jason assumes. The stance, the scowl, the eyes. But more than anything, Dick Grayson isn’t that tall or broad-shouldered, at least not the Dick Jason knows. This Nightwing is taller, more muscular, and a hell of a lot angrier than the Nightwing from his universe. They fight. It’s brutal, but Jason knows how to handle it—he's fought a version of Damian enough times to predict his moves. Then comes the introduction, because obviously, Jason has to explain himself. And that’s when it hits Damian—Nightwing or Robin or whatever he is in this world—because this can’t be Red Hood. It can’t be Jason Todd. His Jason Todd is fifteen years old and currently sleeping at Wayne Manor, probably stressing over a math exam the next morning.

Cue the chaos.

Jason—23 years old, battle-scarred, and wearing the Red Hood armor—can’t stop staring at this older, more composed Damian Wayne. A Damian who seems… more mature. More communicative. It’s jarring, especially since the last time Jason saw his Damian, the kid was bickering with Tim about some animated movie and had just turned fourteen. Jason's no fool—he’s smart, observant—and it only takes him a few minutes to piece together the truth: he’s in a reverse universe. One where Damian is the eldest. And as much as Jason won’t admit it, the realization both unsettles and intrigues him.

Of course, Damian—this Damian—drags Jason back to the Batcave. And that’s when the real headache begins. Because Bruce Wayne is younger. Not by much, but enough. He doesn’t have as many battle scars etched into his face, but there’s still that unrelenting fire in his eyes—the mission comes first. The three of them—Jason, Damian, and Bruce—stand in the Cave, caught in the mess of explanations. Damian tries to tell his father that this Jason is from another universe—one where he’s older—and Jason explains he needs to find a way back to his world. But it’s Bruce—Bruce, who keeps glancing between Jason and the kid version of him asleep at the Manor—who struggles the most. Because his Jason, his son, is only fourteen. No scars. No guns. No Red Hood. He’s not this tall, battle-worn man standing before him.

It’s like seeing a glimpse of the future—a future Bruce can’t help but wonder about. What happened to my son? What broke him so badly? How did he become this? Because Bruce would do anything—anything—to keep his children safe. And Damian—this Damian—is equally stunned but masks it better. His little brother—the one he cares about more than he lets on—is at home, a kid. Not standing here in front of him, battle-hardened and angry.

Jason, of course, can’t help himself. “Guess I’ll have to tell the Damian in my universe that he’ll actually grow tall enough to look Dick in the eye someday.”

Because it’s Jason—he jokes, even when everything feels like a gut punch. Then comes the planning—because they’re Batboys, and Batboys always have a plan. But Bruce is still shaken. Even though he knows there’s a plan to send Jason back—because of course there is—he’s overwhelmed with questions. How did this other Bruce meet his children? Did he know Damian as a child? How did Dick grow up? Did Tim chase his dreams? There’s so much he wants to ask, but they all know the rules—too much information could alter the course of events.

Still, Jason’s curiosity flares too. He’s calculating, observing—he notices the differences in this Batcave, in the way this Bruce moves, in how the team operates. And part of him—though he won’t admit it—wants to meet his counterpart in this universe. The Jason Todd who’s still a kid. The one who hasn’t been broken yet.

He also wants to see Dick as the youngest—because if Dick’s already a pain as the older brother, Jason can only imagine how insufferable he'd be as the younger one.

And then there’s Damian. Jason doesn’t say it, but seeing Damian so composed, respected, and—dare he say—kind to those around him... it stings in a way he didn’t expect. He’s proud of him, though he'd never admit it. Damian’s grown into the role of big brother better than Jason ever thought possible. But Jason’s Jason, so he doesn’t voice any of that. He just watches.

At some point, Jason and Damian share a quiet moment:

“So… Nightwing? Why?”

“Jon. Kryptonian beliefs.”

Jason blinks. “Wait… how old is Jon here?”

“He’s twenty-eight.”

And suddenly, it clicks. Everything really has flipped.

Jason imagines a fully grown Jon Kent—probably a carbon copy of Superman but even more annoying—and his head spins with all the differences in this universe.

Then there’s the Robin situation—no Red Robin, just Robin—which only adds to the confusion. And somewhere in all this, Jason realizes Bruce wants answers. He can feel the weight of Bruce’s unspoken questions—like he’s desperate to know how things unfolded in Jason’s world. If his kids were safe. If they were happy. Jason, ever the rule-breaker, might even pull out a photo from his own universe—one with his family—just to show this Bruce and Damian. To prove something. To break the rules a little more.

The kicker? The rescue mission to send Jason home could take a week.

So now Jason has to spend seven days with this alternate version of his family.

Cue the chaos at Wayne Manor, where Jason awkwardly pretends to be a “friend” of Damian’s—maybe even giving a fake name like Peter—to explain why he’s suddenly staying over.

He meets his younger self—a version of Jason who’s still just Robin. A kid with friends, with school worries, with a life not yet shattered by tragedy. He sees Damian—the older brother now—patient with his younger siblings.

He watches an eight-year-old Dick Grayson—talkative, full of ideas, adjusting to a new home and the idea of staying in one place. He meets Tim—still complicated, maybe with a hint of Joker Jr. lingering in his past—but focused on his work with Young Justice and his missions. And Cass—rescued younger than Jason remembers—already a quiet but fierce presence.

It’s a mess of angst, heartache, and a desperate curiosity from Bruce, who wonders what his children’s futures hold.

And Jason? He just tries to survive the week.

Because in this world, the family dynamic is reversed—but the pain, the love, and the Batfamily chaos?

That never changes.

I wanted it to be Jason, but honestly, it could be anyone. It could be Dick to add more drama, or Tim Drake! It could even be Duke—or Bruce himself. You can go in any direction you want with the storyline. This is just an idea because I find the reverse Robin dynamic really entertaining, and we've already seen that Damian can be a great older brother—in the comics with Lizzie, he's perfect. So you can take this idea and do whatever you want with it. I just needed to get it off my chest after everything I've been reading. Of course, feel free to add anything!

[bat-mom-writer]

Big Brother

Reader(mom) X Jason (son)

Summery: Even against Bruce's wishes, reader goes to see Jason. Because, she wants him to meet his baby sister.

Note: I have written a few other posts with Jason, Dick, Tim, and Damian being apart reader's pregnancy, but this is has no part in them.

(I do not own any DC character)

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With a soft sigh, she cradled the baby girl in her arms, her heart swelling with a fierce love that surprised even her. She knew that Bruce had his reasons for keeping her away from Jason, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Jason needed to see this little piece of hope that had entered their lives. Dick had been her confidant, the one who understood her yearning to bridge the gap between the lost son and the new life they had created together.

The night was cool and quiet as she slipped out of the manor, the baby bundled in a warm blanket against her chest. She could feel the gentle weight of her daughter's breathing, a gentle reminder of the fragility of the world she had brought her into.

Dick waited for her in the shadows, the Robin cycle humming quietly beneath him. He was dressed in his Nightwing gear, a silent sentinel ready to help. She climbed on behind him, the leather of the seat cool against her skin. She held the baby tight, whispering comforting words into the soft down of her ear. The engine roared to life, and they sped off into the night, the wind whipping around them as the city's lights streaked by in a blur.

They arrived at the abandoned warehouse that served as a makeshift base for the Red Hood. Dick knew the location from his patrols, and the tension between him and Jason was palpable every time he had to report back to Bruce. Her heart raced as they approached, the baby's eyes wide with curiosity at the new sounds and sensations of Gotham's underbelly. The building loomed before them, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the dark.

Dick cut the engine and they both dismounted, the silence of the night wrapping around them like a cloak. He turned to her, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "He's here?" she murmured, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

Dick nodded. "I've been tracking his signal."

They moved cautiously through the shadows, the baby's eyes now drooping with sleep. She felt a surge of adrenaline as they approached the warehouse door, the metal cold and unyielding under her hand. Dick pushed it open a crack, peering inside before giving her the all-clear. The space was dimly lit, the only sound the distant echo of footsteps on concrete. They stepped inside, the smell of damp earth and metal filling their nostrils.

"Well, well, well," a voice called out, a sardonic tone that sent chills down her spine. "What do we have here? Come back for round two?"

Jason Todd was atop the rail of a catwalk high above, the red of his hood stark against the dark backdrop. Dick stepped in front, a protective shield between Avilasa and the Red Hood.

"Jason," she called softly, her voice echoing in the vast space.

He leaned over the railing, the red lenses of his mask glinting in the sparse light. "What is this, a new tactic from the Dark Knight?" He smirked, his tone laced with skepticism. "Using my own mother to distract me? Did he think I wouldn't see through this?"

Ignoring his jab, she calls out. "Jason, please, come down. I have… someone, I want you to meet."

Jason's smirk faltered for a moment, his curiosity piqued despite his suspicion. He dropped from the railing in a graceful arc, landing lightly on the floor below. Dick took a step back, allowing her to come forward. She gently unwrapped the baby from her blanket, revealing her tiny, peaceful face.

"This is your sister," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Jason's eyes widened, the sarcasm draining from his voice. He stared at the baby, his gloved hands clenching into fists. The room was still except for the soft, rhythmic cooing that filled the space.

"Leave," he said to Dick, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dick hesitated, glancing back at her. She gave him a small nod, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's okay," she mouthed. He reluctantly backed away, retreating into the door.

Jason approached slowly, his boots echoing on the cold ground. His gaze remained fixed on the baby as he stopped in front of her, his posture tense. "How long?"

"A few weeks," she replied, her voice a soft whisper. "We named her… Melilla."

Jason's gaze flickered to her, before returning to the baby. He reached out a gloved hand, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. His fingertip brushed against Melilla's cheek, and she responded with a tiny yawn, stretching her minuscule hand out towards him. The sight was so innocent, so human, that it seemed to disarm him for a moment.

But then, as if sensing the tension or the presence of the masked man before her, Melilla's eyes fluttered open and she began to wail, her cries piercing the stillness of the warehouse. Her heart sank as Jason's hand retreated, his posture stiffening again. The whites of his mask remained fixed on the baby, his jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted you to see her."

"See me," Jason corrected, his voice gruff as he reached up the helmet that covered his face. "You want her to see me."

With trembling hands, he pulled the mask away, revealing a face that was a mirror to Dick's, yet etched with pain and anger that no one could miss. The room grew quieter as the baby's cries subsided into sniffles, seemingly aware of the shift in the air. She felt a knot form in her stomach as she stared at the face she had not seen in years, the face of the boy she had once known as her son, now a man cloaked in a life of vengeance.

Jason's eyes searched the baby's face, looking for some semblance of the family he had lost, the warmth he had once known. The baby looked back at him, her eyes wide with curiosity, and for a brief moment, she saw something in Jason's gaze that she hadn't seen in years: vulnerability. He leaned closer, his breath misting in the cold air as he studied Melilla, the soft curve of her nose, the tiny hands that clutched at the air.

"She's… beautiful," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

Avilasa felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Yes, she is," she said, her own voice thick with unshed tears.

Jason leaned closer, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. "She's got Bruce's stupid blue eyes," he murmured, a hint of affection in his tone despite the gruffness. A small, genuine chuckle escaped his lips, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the boy he once was.

His hand hovering over the baby's head as if unsure of what to do next. She took a deep breath and offered Melilla to him. "Hold her," she whispered.

Jason looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since she had revealed her true identity. There was a flicker of something in those green eyes, a question, a plea. "Me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

She nodded, her own eyes shimmering with hope. "Please, Jason."

He took another step, his hands moving as if in a dream, and carefully took the baby from her arms. Her tiny body fitting perfectly into the cradle of his broad chest. The sight was surreal, the infamous Red Hood holding a newborn with such tenderness.

"Hey, hey there," he murmured, his voice soft and unrecognizable. "It's alright, it's okay, your big brother's got you."

As Melilla quieted in his arms, Jason's rough exterior melted away, revealing the gentle soul he had buried deep beneath the anger and the mask. He cradled her, his large, scarred hands surprisingly gentle as they supported her tiny frame. The baby blinked up at him, her eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The baby girl's tiny hand reached out, her fingers grabbing at the air before finding purchase on the soft fabric of his shirt. Jason stilled, his heart racing as he felt her warmth and the weight of her trust. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked up at his mother, searching her eyes for some clue as to what he should do next.

"You're… you're good at this," she said, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and hope.

Jason grunted in response, his eyes looking back to Melilla's face. He had held many things in his life, weapons of all shapes and sizes, but nothing had ever felt so fragile and so precious. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she gurgled, her tiny hand gripping his shirt even tighter.

"I would love to spoil you rotten, you little squirt," he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to melt the ice around his heart.

She watched as Jason held Melilla, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Bruce is already given her more toys than either of us know what to do with," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The thought of Bruce Wayne, the stoic and brooding Dark Knight, playing the role of a doting father was a sight she had not yet seen, but she knew it was true.

Jason scoffed. "Well, that's his way, I guess." He paused, looking down at the baby in his arms. "Can't wait for the day she brings home boyfriends," he said with a wry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he imagined the look on Bruce's face.

She couldn't help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the cold, empty space. "Oh, trust me," she said, shaking her head. "You're not the only one he'll have to worry about."

Jason looked at her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. It had been so long since he had heard her laugh, and it was like a balm to the ragged edges of his soul. The sound was soothing, reminding him of happier times, of a home that had been ripped away from him.

"I guess we're all in this together, then," he said, his voice a little less gruff. He studied Melilla, her eyes blinking slowly as she stared up at him. He had killed for vengeance, destroyed lives for justice, but never before had he felt so responsible for one so small and pure. It was a feeling that shook him to the core.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking at her. "For showing her to me."

The words hung in the air, filled with a weight that neither of them could fully comprehend. It was the first real acknowledgment of their shared past, of the love that had once bound them together as a family. Her eyes searched Jason's, seeing the turmoil behind the mask, the struggle to reconcile the man he had become with the boy he once was.

"Thank you for not pushing us away," she repeated, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.

Without a word, Jason pulled her into a tight embrace, the Melilla nestled between them. His arms, usually so firm and unyielding, wrapped around them with surprising gentleness. She felt his warmth seep through the layers of their costumes, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he held them. Melilla cooed, a tiny sound that seemed to mend the years of silence and anger between them.

"I love you, Mom," Jason whispered into her hair, his voice cracking with the weight of his unspoken regrets.

She eyes filled with tears, and she hugged him back with all the strength she had. "I love you too, Jason," she murmured, feeling the warmth of his embrace. The baby squirmed in their tight embrace, a tiny reminder of the life that connected them all.

They stood like that for a long moment, a silent apology and acceptance passing between them. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jason pulled away. He gently handed Melilla back to her, his eyes lingering on her tiny face. "I can't stay," he said, his voice gruff. "But I won't forget this… Or her."

She nodded, her own eyes filled with understanding. "We'll come again," she promised, her voice firm. "This doesn't have to be the last time."

Jason gave a small nod, the light in his eyes fading slightly. "Just… keep her safe," he said, his gaze lingering on Melilla. "Promise me."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "With all my heart," she vowed, her voice strong despite the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Jason leaned in and kissed her forehead, the gesture so unexpected and tender that she almost flinched. But she held her ground, feeling the warmth of his lips against her skin, the briefest of moments that spoke volumes. Then he turned to Melilla, his movements deliberate and almost reverent as he bent to press a soft kiss to her forehead as well. The baby's eyes widened in surprise, and then she giggled, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous warehouse, a symbol of the joy she had brought to their lives.

"Stay out of trouble," he murmured to Melilla, his voice filled with a tenderness that was as surprising as it was heartbreaking. It was a promise he knew he could not keep, a hope he could not guarantee, but one that hung in the air between them, a silent pact.

She watched as Jason retreated into the shadows, disappearing into the night. She felt a pang of sadness, but also a spark of hope. Dick emerged from the door, his eyes filled with questions and concern. She gave him a small, brave smile. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice stronger than she felt.

Looking back at Melilla, she felt a warmth spread through her, chasing away the shadows of doubt. Her daughter's eyes were wide and curious, as if she knew that she had just played a part in something momentous. Her cradled her closer, feeling the steady beat of her heart against her chest.

[yandereforme]

(I’m going to assume these two asks are together. )

OK, so the only way I can see them getting close to injuring you is if they were fighting with someone and accidentally hurt you. They are not gonna let you be a vigilante, and probably would not train you at all.

Dick goes full-blown shut down mode. He will mother hen you to the extreme, but he will be like a shell of himself. How could he hurt his little sibling, his little star? You’re not going to get much alone time, but if you start flinching around him, he’s going to freak out and probably have a panic attack. Best thing you can do to calm him down, is let him help you with everything, and avoid mentioning your injury. If you say you forgive him, though, that will only make him obsess over you more, and feel more guilty. His sweet little sibling forgave him so quickly, he didn’t deserve you.

Jason will vanish. Like straight up gone for a month sort of thing. He will freak out about hurting you and will not come around you for a while. Only once you are healed up. That does not mean he doesn’t stay around the Manor though. In fact, he is more vigilant than ever about any threats towards you.(when you start healing up, Jason might sneak into your room and watch you sleep, reassuring himself, that you’re going to be OK. He is not like Willis.) there are one of two ways. I can see him coming back. Either you get in trouble and he saves you, or he finds out that you miss him. Either way, after he comes back, he will be treating you with more fragility then before and will let you get away with anything,  though he definitely won’t give you as much freedom outside, too worried about you getting hurt again. You just need to ride it out, and make sure he knows that you don’t blame him for anything.

Tim will shut down in the beginning. He will freak out about it and after getting you to Alfred, he will shut down and hit on himself for a while. Eventually, though, his mind will twist it, so that he will believe you hurt yourself, or one of the others hurt you. He cannot except the fact that he hurt you. If anyone brings it up ever again, which Damian probably will, he will simply act as if it did not happen, or start having another breakdown. Best thing you can do is go along with his delusion and let him help you.

Damian will go one of two ways. One, if he was fighting with someone else at the time, he will blame it on them, and not let them see you. He will be more protective than ever and what little time yet to yourself will be gone. The other option is complete and utter shut down. He will go into a similar state that you were in, depression, that will make him bad. Any side of your injury will make him worse, but if he goes to long without seeing you, he will be worse than ever. As long as you can blame someone else, he will be able to keep going, so your best bet for making things run smoothly, is telling him that it wasn’t his fault, or making him believe he’s protecting you.

Bruce is very similar to Jason, but worse guilt. Bruce is aware that he’s been a bad father, but hurting you will send him over the edge, especially with a major injury. He will go into an arc similar to what he did after Jason’s death, though not as bad for the criminals. He will be reckless and avoid you for a long time. Alfred will have to manipulate him into talking to you again, and he will be awkward and scared to be around you. He has a lot of trauma around his loved ones dying, and you getting badly hurt by him? Your best bet is to ride it out, keep your siblings from mutinying on him, make sure they all know you miss Bruce, and working with Alfred to get him better( you going to Bruce and asking for a bed time story will help your relationship with him though.)

[dirty-bosmer]

TES Crushes

Which NPCs in TES (all games included!) do you crush on, and why? They don't have to be marriage candidates (in vanilla), just people you find yourself blushing around. Hell, it could be a Deadric Prince if that's what you're into. Name them and say what about them you find appealing! Then feel free to tag a friend or two!

Tagged by @babyblueetbaemonster @theoneandonlysemla Thank you <3

Tagging: @ladytanithia @unironicallytes @gilgamish @kookaburra1701 @saltymaplesyrup @rustyram035 @darcxaosit @moriche @pocket-vvardvark @heavy-metal-dick @alma-amentet @pyre-of-pages @guardianlizard

Borrowing some of Julia's number scheme cause it's nice organization :)

#1: Characters I crushed on during my first ever playthrough as a wee lass:

Methredhel: 10 year old me spent countless hours watching her sleep in that huntsman vest/bralett outfit XD

M'raaj-Dar: Young me was so predictable. Some character is mean to me? Gotta make sure I fall in love with them and do everything in my power to get them to like me. Then he apologized to me right before the purification and I knew I was done for. After the purification, I hoisted his body onto a bed in the living quarters and surrounded him with flowers lol

Enilroth: That one stable boy in Anvil who places the last of Mathieu Bellamont's fake dead-drops out for you. I thought he was so normal looking in a game where everyone looked like they were melting.

Cutter: I just thought she was pretty.

Relmyna Verenim: Being a crazy mad scientist devoted to your passions is hawt.

#2: Characters I crush on now:

The Ordinators in Morrowind. It's the ten packs a day ash-choked voice.

Dagoth Ur. He invaded my dreams with a wedding ceremony. I'm pretty sure we've moved past the prosaic love confession. We are now bounded in our blood.

Nazir: He will always be Skyrim's Sexyman to me <3

Astrid: I'm a simple gal. I see a woman who does fucked up things being torn to shreds by the fandom, I 👀

Arquen: Same as above. She’s a baddie to me and I don’t care about the rumor where she ate Lucien’s entrails, that just makes her weirder and sexier 💕

Raminus Polus: He's smart and gives you a fancy necklace and tells you that you're doing a good job, like what else do I need really?

Mathieu Bellamont: the only man I will ever call baby girl. Love a revenge arc. Love a twisted obsession. I genuinely dgaf that he single-handedly wrecked the Dark Brotherhood, maybe the Black Hand should not have been so trigger happy and eager for self-destruction!

Lucien Lachance: Despite the hundreds of thousands of words I've written about him, my feelings for Lucien are kind of complicated 😅 I don’t dislike him, but at some point while writing my fic I realized I gaslit myself into believing he was hotter than he is lol Upon replay, I was like 'man this dude is such a scrub I have to write him to be as creepy and dripless as possible,' which like... I'm still into lol I just feel like a fake fan for it.

Ondolemar: Unique, kissable lips, him degrading me in public only to whip out that, 'there are so few pleasures in life as fine as your company' once he realized he wanted me, oooooh girl

Razum-Dar: I wanted him SO BADLY during the Aldmeri Dominion quests.

#3 Characters I actually married in game:

Nels Llendo: Had a mod to make it possible for my Morrowind playthrough. He killed all the cliff racer for me :)

Jenassa: She might be the only character I ever married on my main LDB's save, and it was actually so devastating because all she would do was stand in the foyer of Proudspire Manor with no clothes on, asking about kids we never had. Look how the glitches massacred my girl :(

Derkeethus: I married him on my Arch-mage save but only on PC because he too was glitched and every time I told him to go home he would run away!!!

#4: Characters I’m only crushing on because of Fics I read

@theoneandonlysemla's Ancano and Faralda I'm so weak for horribly, toxic elves. Yes, abuse your power! Make everyone around you miserable!

@sylvienerevarine's Roggi Knot-Beard. Had no idea who this man was until Sophrine rolled into his life, and from then on I was smitten. Wholesome, sexy, husband of the year <3

@skyrim-forever's Aicantar. Scholarly, bashful mage nerd <3 I actually always thought Aicantar was a cutie and had considered marrying him on one playthrough because even with cheat codes, a lot of the Altmer characters don't have voice lines for marriage. Aicantar's voice made him a suitable candidate.

#5 Characters that have made me 👀 but in an way that makes me embarrassed

The Spider Daedra from Oblivion. I was obsessed with her rack LMAO

Dremora: something about unintelligible, guttural screams and fiery eyes, I think...

Molag Bal. I also blame this one on @theoneandonlysemla

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).

Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.

But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.

Trying to take back his place in the family.

And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.

A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?

But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.

He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.

Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”

Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.

But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.

He let out an angry huff of air.

Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.

Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.

Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“That… might not be a good idea.”

He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”

Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”

The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.

Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”

Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”

“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”

Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?

A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.

“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”

Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.

“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”

“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.

To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.

Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.

After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.

“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”

“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”

“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”

“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.

The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.

-----

Next

Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid

[ewingstan]

Yeah fully finishing Gibson's Sprawl series and listening to some of the Shelved By Genre discussion of it; I'm convinced that it's one of the major direct influences on Twig.

There's an emphasis on how the world is run by organizations whose members and leaders are expendable and interchangeable, hydras who work more like organisms than anything else. In the Sprawl these are the multinationals and the yakuza, in Twig the academy.

Contrasted against this are individual who hold power from an older system, but who in holding it must become inhuman. In the Sprawl the Tessier-Ashpools, the old-money enterprise that can compete on the footing of the faceless mulitnationals, but do so from the recesses of their spiralling gothic manor satellite as they clone themselves and grow mad in cryo-sleep. Its also Virek, the individual with the power and money of a multinational, who in fact is barely an individual at all—his interests being managed by a system he couldn't dream of keeping track of, which uses false models of himself to show up and shake hands on any number of deals, while the original man himself dreams and plots as a mass of cancerous growths floating in an enormous tank. The Twig equivalent would of course be the Nobles, remnants of an old system that has staked its continued relevance on making its members something more than human.

Contrasted against these inhuman figures of outmoded power is the possibility of a paradigm shift, an emergence of a totally new power and way of being, that can be brought about by a group of highly specialized agents working in tandem. In Gibson's work, this is Wintermute and Neuromancer, the separate specialized AIs which combine together to become an embodiment of the whole of the matrix itself, and to an extent its also the crew of the Straylight Run, the team of carefully selected experts who are able to facilitate the AIs combination. Wildbow brings us this with the lambs, a team of highly specialized beings created out of a project working on the human brain, who we learn at the final hour were engineered to raise themselves above their masters and become something that could break the stagnation of the empire.

This theme of some individual members of the old system in fact being responsible for creating the new power, going through convoluted plans of creating the specialized component beings and waiting for them to ascend and make their creators obsolete, was also present in the Sprawl with Marie-France Tessier and her creation of the Wintermute and Neuromancer AIs.

Alongside these structural and thematic parallels, wildbow obviously put a lot of the characters of the Sprawl into his cast. Molly Millions, the razor girl with knives under her fingertips and a raw excitement at her own ability to kill, is obviously part of the lineage of Mary Coburn. Helen appears to be a direct reimagining of the setting's "vat-grown assassins." The disoriented style of Slick Henry's narration when his bouts of short-term memory loss kick in are a likely influence on Sy's characterization in later arcs. Hell, Johnny Mneumonic's famous "technical boy" spiel that starts the whole Sprawl saga off sounds exactly like the shit Sy'd say:

I put the shotgun in an Adidas bag and padded it out with four pairs of tennis socks, not my style at all, but that was what I was aiming for: If they think you’re crude, go technical; if they think you’re technical, go crude. I’m a very technical boy. So I decided to get as crude as possible. These days, though, you have to be pretty technical before you can even aspire to crudeness. I’d had to turn both those twelve-gauge shells from brass stock, on a lathe, and then load them myself; I’d had to dig up an old microfiche with instructions for hand-loading cartridges; I’d had to build a lever-action press to seat the primers – all very tricky. But I knew they’d work.

Listen to that! That's exactly the type of person who'd never let you forget that he'd gotten called "devastatingly intelligent!" Wildbow took all that and made his horrible boy!

[hopefullyyoursmcg]

Hii!! 🤖 Anon here (sorry I’ve not been active😭)

I‘ve been thinking about which Batboy would make the most sense to be the Baby daddy and to be honest I have no clue.

I think in a way it could all fit and make sense really.

For instance:

Dick has always tried to have some sort of connection with Routine!Reader, an perhaps it was never really in a sibling way because of the distance between them both.

Jason and Routine!Reader weren’t even raised at the same time within the manor, and by the time they met properly she was already past the age of wanting any connections.

Tim already had pre-existing obsessive tendencies surrounding her, from what I can tell, and probably has had the most interactions with her due to their similarities.

But I’d love to know what you think! I really loved your response to my previous ask about these three being romantic yanderes in this fic because I think there’s so much potential that should be explored by writers because, to a point, some of these platonic fics just seem so repetitive. Let’s change up the dynamics a bit y’know?

Ok good news, I put up a poll and it looks like you will still get some Romantic batboys.

Now let's get into the romantic potential of the batboys.

Now first of all, as Rountine! reader did not grow up anywhere near the three boys(because one was busy, one was dead and the other was doing his own thing until the actual moment they meet) or she was just at the time where she couldn't give a damn.

Dick, as you said, couldn't really grow close to the reader due to not spending time with her when they were younger. However, when he was trying to be better and be close to the growing family, routine!reader just didn't want to be near him. She did not look annoyed, nor did she look angry, she just looked at him like he was nothing. In the past when Routine Reader was at a family dinner(which she didn't want to be there) Dick would try to talk to her, but she gave him nothing. Now thinking about how dick actually realizes it is a whole new battle. I like to believe that he would realize what his feeling is while he's trying to sleep and all he can think of is Routine! reader's cold face staring at him.

Now as I said many times before, Jason was dead when she was brought in. But they meet after his vengeance arc, at the manor library. Now reader and Jason were neutral with each other at first because Reader at that point had the mindset of "if they don't care about me, I don't care about them" and Jason just wanted the new books that Alfred told him about, but that didn't mean he didn't stop and stare. Now after feeding Jason some extra pork chops you had cooked, that's when the feelings started to show. Jason, to put it lightly, is a fucked up guy. Who wouldn't be after what he went through? And fucked up guys, do fucked up things. For example, he wouldn't leave you alone unless you cooked him something, and even if you still didn't cook for him, he would stare at you, no matter what you were doing. Jason's feelings for Rountine! reader aren't normal romantic, but I like to think that one of the main components in his feelings towards reader is how reader cooks. On the very rare occasion when Jason gets reader to cook for him, as he watches them cook, it kinda heals him? Does that make sense? Like he's just sitting there waiting to be fed, and it just feels normal and quiet.

Tim's obsession with the reader came from wanting to research reader and how she thinks. Basically like a lab rat. And you are right when you said she had more of an interaction with him. As both of them during their early teen years, grew up together in the manor. But it wouldn't be until maybe a year after he became Robin that he met Rountine!reader in the kitchen. As time passes on, the more private research Tim has done about the reader. Which is a very small folder of nearly nothing. Besides her full name, date of birth, a list of friends, and other small things, that was pretty much it. Every so often if he has the time, he tries to find something new about Routine! reader, which is nearly impossible she doesn't even have any social media accounts. Tim sees Rontine!reader as a perfect puzzle, and he want figure out how she ticks.

(hope ya like it 🤖)

[stnkiconverse]

you're going to do it, and you're getting away with it. you know that.

Ch.14 - Last Test.

⇠ Previous

Next ⇢

genre: psychological horror (in a way), creepypasta, supernatural thriller (in a way)

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Reader

WC: 2.1K

content warnings: echoes in the static contains scenes and themes that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers, including: graphic violence and murder, mental illness and psychological distress, suicide and self-harm, domestic abuse, cannibalism and strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

Yes this has to do with Creepypastas. Yes, Creepypastas will pop up and make appearances, it's basieally a reader insert into the Creepypasta world.

do not repost my work anywhere, I only post in Tumblr.

The first that you notice is the slow ache seeping into your skull, the hiss of static thrumming at the edges of your mind like exhausted radio searching for a signal. It hasn’t fully set in, but you feel it coming.

You open your eyes in the darkness of your “room” in the manor. The walls feel closer now than they had before, the atmosphere heavier with anticipation.

A loud bang at your door startles you.

“Up and at ‘em, Petal.”

Jeff’s voice.

You groan, rolling onto your side. “Go away.”

The door creaks open anyway. You hear his boots scuff against the floor before the weight of him settles on the edge of your bed.

“No can do,” Jeff says. His voice is lighter than usual, but there’s an underlying seriousness beneath it. “Today’s the big day. Can’t have you sleeping through your own execution—uh, I mean, test.”

You sit up, rubbing your temples. “You’re so encouraging.”

Jeff smirks. “It’s what I’m here for.”

He watches as you stretch, his sharp eyes raking over you, as if memorizing every detail before thrusting something into your hands—a change of clothes. Simple, practical, made for movement.

“You might wanna wash up first,” he adds. “Not that I mind the whole I-just-woke-up-and-I’m-gonna-kill-someone aesthetic, but, y’know… blood’s harder to wash off when it’s already dry.”

You flip him off, but grab the clothes anyway and make your way to the bathroom.

The shower is brief, just enough to clear your head. By the time you're dressed and out the door, Jeff is still waiting, leaning against the wall as if he has nowhere else to be.

The moment you step into the hall, however, the static starts, and it hits you.

Hard.

Your balance wavers, and you clutch the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

Jeff is in front of you in an instant. His hands hover like he wants to grab you, steady you, but he hesitates. “Shit— hey, breathe, Petal.”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

It’s a lie, but you’re not about to back down now.

Jeff doesn’t look convinced, but after a beat, he steps back. “Then let’s get this over with.”

The clearing is waiting for you.

The moment you step into the open space, the world tilts. Slender is already there, his towering form motionless, but the weight of him presses against your mind, crawling beneath your skin.

You swallow hard.

Masky, Hoodie, and Toby stand in a loose semi-circle, watching.

“You know the deal,” Masky says. “You win, you stay. You lose—”

“You die,” Toby finishes, a grin stretching across his scarred face. He flips a knife between his fingers, twitching slightly.

You steady yourself.

The static in your head pulses, growing louder. The moment it reaches a fever pitch—

They attack.

Toby moves first, fast, a blur of motion as he lunges. You dodge, barely, but Hoodie is already behind you. His fist slams into your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You stumble, but you don't fall.

Masky is next, closing the distance. You raise your arms just in time to block the blow that's headed for your head. Pain explodes up your forearm, but you use the momentum to twist, slamming your elbow into his ribs.

A grunt. A step back.

Good.

But there’s no time to celebrate— because Toby is back on you.

A flash of silver— his knife swings in a tight arc—

Pain.

The blade catches your side, not deep, but enough to make you hiss through gritted teeth.

Slender’s influence presses down harder, the static roaring, distorting everything—your movements lag for just a second too long—

Masky lands a brutal punch to your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees.

The world spins.

Your vision blurs, black creeping at the edges. You force yourself up, gasping, but Hoodie is already moving, his boot slamming into your ribs and knocking you onto your back.

A shadow looms. Slenderman.

You can’t breathe.

The static—

Your fingers dig into the dirt, trembling, trying to fight, but the moment Masky’s boot presses against your chest, pinning you in place, you know.

It’s over.

Your body gives out.

The last thing you hear before the darkness takes you is the Operator’s static voice— low, sharp.

“Enough.”

The next time you wake up, the infirmary’s dim lights burn into your skull.

Everything hurts.

Your ribs are wrapped, your arm stitched where Toby’s knife got you, and your entire body feels like it’s been thrown off a building.

A chair scrapes against the floor.

“Finally decided to wake up, huh?”

Hoodie.

His mask is pushed up just enough to reveal his mouth, there’s a mustache, something you didn’t expect, and he looks… bored. But there’s something else, too. Something careful.

“You passed,” he says after a beat.

You blink at him. “I what?”

“You passed,” he repeats, crossing his arms. “He was impressed.”

You let out a weak laugh, wincing. “That was impressed?”

“You lived,” Hoodie says simply. “That’s impressive enough.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open.

Toby waltzes in, looking entirely too amused for someone who nearly killed you. “Luh-look who didn’t die!” he announces, plopping down in the chair beside your bed.

“Still recovering, thanks to you,” you mutter.

Toby grins, unbothered. “C’mon, that was f-fuh-fun.”

You shoot him a glare.

He just laughs. “Well, at least you’re t-tough. Guess you really are one of us n-now.”

For the next two days, you’re stuck in the infirmary.

Hoodie tends to most of your injuries— his movements precise, methodical. Jeff, surprisingly, is around more than you’d expect, hovering like he’s pretending not to be concerned.

And Toby? Toby’s just a menace.

The infirmary is apparently his second home, given how often he gets injured. He spends way too much time talking your ear off while Hoodie works, throwing random objects at you whenever he’s bored.

“You really like being a pain in the ass, huh?” you grumble one afternoon after dodging a wad of paper.

Toby beams. “It’s a t-talent.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t hate it.

For the first time since waking up in this manor, things almost feel… normal.

Until Jeff walks in one night, leans against your bed, and smirks.

“Rest up, Petal,” he says. “The others are coming tomorrow.”

You wake up to the distant murmur of talking and the quiet hum of fluorescent light. The infirmary itself remains quiet, besides the occasional ticking of the clock hung on the far wall. The lingering aches in your body remind you of everything—the fight, the static, the pain—but as you shift beneath the thin sheets, another presence makes itself known.

Jeff is sprawled out in the bed beside yours.

He's still sleeping, arms folded behind his head, the blanket over his chest. His face relaxed in a way you don't usually see. Without the usual smirk or sharp sarcasm, he almost looks… normal. Almost. (Save for the smile carved into his cheeks and the pasty white skin)

You shift slightly, and the movement must stir him because, with a deep inhale, Jeff blinks awake. His eyes groggily flick to you before a lazy grin stretches across his face.

“Morning, Petal,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

You scoff, wincing as you sit up. “Didn’t realize you were sleeping in here.”

Jeff stretches with a groan. “Yeah, well… Hoodie was getting on my ass about ‘letting you rest’ and ‘not crowding the room.’ So I compromised.” He gestures to the bed beside yours with a lazy shrug.

You shake your head, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Whatever. I need a shower.”

“Same,” Jeff agrees, sitting up. His hair is sticking up in places, and the faint scent of antiseptic still lingers in the air. “Race you to the hot water?”

You don’t answer that, instead flipping him off as you head toward the infirmary bathroom.

By the time you’re both clean, dressed, and somewhat refreshed, Jeff’s usual cockiness has returned.

He leans against the sink as you brush your teeth, twirling a spare toothbrush between his fingers before finally using it himself.

“You know,” he says around the bristles, “I’d say you’re starting to fit in here, Petal.”

You spit out your toothpaste. “And what makes you think that?”

Jeff grins, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Well, you haven’t died yet.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of amusement beneath your irritation. “I’m going to get my stuff.”

Jeff raises a brow. “From your our apartment?”

You nod. "If I'm stuck here, I at least want my own clothes."

Jeff shrugs, reaching for a clean black hoodie on the side of the infirmary bed and putting it on. He put a black surgical mask over his mouth, glancing at you while he does.

"Fine. But you're buying breakfast on the way."

The morning air is cool as you and Jeff leave the manor, the dirt path crunching under your feet. The gas station isn't that far away, just down a winding road that appears to not have been repaved in decades.

Jeff follows you, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, his mask hiding the lower part of his face. His presence oddly grounding.

The gas station is as shitty as one could have expected— fluorescent lights buzzing, linoleum floors with years of god-knows-what stained on them. The cashier, a middle-aged man with sunken eyes and a clear lack of enthusiasm for his job, barely looks at either of you.

Jeff heads straight for the Monster energy drinks, grabbing two before tossing a couple of chocolate bars into the mix.

"In all seriousness, are you going to eat that for breakfast?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow as you grab a prepackaged sandwich and a coffee from the hot case.

Jeff shrugs. “What? It’s a balanced meal.”

You roll your eyes, paying for both of your things before heading back out. The two of you sit on the curb, eating in silence.

For a moment, it’s peaceful.

Then Jeff kicks at a stray rock and says, “You know you’re barely gonna be in that apartment anymore, right?”

You pause mid-bite, frowning. “What?”

Jeff glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You live at the manor now, Petal. That apartment? It’s not really yours anymore.”

The weight of his words settles in.

You swallow. “I still want my things.”

Jeff nods, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah. I figured.”

The apartment smells the same— a mix of laundry detergent and something uniquely yours.

It’s unsettling, stepping inside after everything that’s happened. The normalcy of it almost feels wrong. Like it belongs to someone else now.

You don’t linger.

Jeff moves around the small space, poking at your things, making little comments here and there.

“Damn, Haven’t seen this place in a while.”

“Shut up and help me.”

He does— but mostly by shoving random clothes into your suitcases without folding them.

Eventually, two bags are packed and zipped, filled with the essentials.

Jeff grabs one, rolling it toward the door. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath, casting one last glance at your apartment.

“…Yeah.”

The two of you walk in relative silence, dragging your suitcases behind you.

The weight of everything— the fight, the manor, the fact that your apartment no longer feels like home—settles over you.

Jeff is unusually quiet too.

At one point, he glances at you, eyes sharp beneath the hood of his sweatshirt. “You good?”

You exhale through your nose. “I don’t know.”

Jeff stops walking.

You do too, turning to look at him— only for his hand to catch your wrist, tugging you slightly closer.

His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.

And then—

He kisses you.

It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough either— just Jeff, warm and real and undeniable.

The suitcase handle nearly slips from your fingers.

When he pulls back, that damn smirk is back on his face.

“Just making sure you’re still with me, Petal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “Let’s go.”

The manor looms in front of you, casting long shadows over the dirt path.

Jeff shifts the suitcase in his grip, glancing at you. “I’m sure everyone will like you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

Jeff grins. “Well, most of them.”

Taking a breath, you push open the front door.

Inside, the lounging room is filled— every chair occupied, every available space taken.

The moment you step inside, the entire room goes silent.

Every single head turns toward you.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

Your stomach drops.

Jeff, the bastard, just chuckles beside you.

“Welcome home, Petal.”

I actually despise this chapter too 🤗

next one, Y/N’s murders will finally be mentioned!!!!

TAGLIST - OPEN (comment to be added, if in pink, can’t be tagged)

@mimmickmouse @stranger-of-the-internet t @akashic06072007 @hey-an-original-url @mjustag1rl @zOmbi3kizz3r @bottle-o-wonder