#i woke up and couldn't stop thinking about this

[brawberryz]

Little Demon

Batfam Yan! × Neglected Nezuko! Reader

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were normal

You weren't the monster you've become, before everything you were just an ordinary high school student

Everything had happened so fast that you didn't even have time to process it

A few hours ago everything was normal

You woke up as usual adding yourself to go to class, you greeted alfred while you were having breakfast

Breakfast felt as lonely as always your family was never present not even in things as common as having breakfast together as a family

No one ever had time for you, everyone was so busy with their responsibilities and you understood it, you always understood

They were vigilant and you knew they had a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders but sometimes you would like them to look at you or ask you how your day was

If someone in the family turned to look at you or talk to you it was a miracle, the only person you had by your side was alfred

He was a father figure more than your real father could be

Bruce, as you called him because father was too big a name for someone like him, maybe he wasn't even worthy of being called father

You saw his relationship with the rest of your siblings and how he treated them with so much respect and affection

At some point you felt jealous, why was he so good to them? Why couldn't you feel that affection

Why?

Why!?

Nobody took care of you or protected you, since you were little you understood that if you didn't protect yourself nobody would

Everyone had talents and they were amazing

You were just (name), the shadow of the family because the only thing that was important was having the last name Wayne, but then you were nobody

You were never anybody

You stopped thinking so much and picked up your bag and walked out the door of the mansion giving Alfred a last goodbye

_

Classes went by faster than you would like, school was a safe place for you, there you could be yourself with your friends

To your friends you weren't (name) Wayne, the daughter of a billionaire playboy, you were just a (name) L/N a girl full of energy and eager to help others

You lazily got up from your seat grabbing your bag heading to the classroom door

There was Aoi waiting for you as usual, you were grateful to have such a good friend like her

"You look more tired than usual, is something wrong (name)?"

The black-haired girl asks worriedly, walking with you to the exit. You just nodded, giving her a fake smile.

"Yeah, don't worry, I just didn't sleep well today."

That's a lie. You had slept more than well, but since this morning you had felt that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen.

You couldn't shake that feeling off after hours. You decided to ignore it, but that feeling still remained.

Aoi just nodded, unsure of your answer. She had been your friend for years and she knew you too well to know when something was bothering you.

"Hey, today me and shinobu are going to a new cafe that opened. Do you want to go?"

You stayed quiet for a few seconds thinking about the proposal, you liked going out with your friends but this time you felt like you shouldn't go

"I'm sorry aoi but... I'm really busy today I have homework to do"

You politely apologized to her

Aoi raised an eyebrow, there was something she didn't like, she knew something was happening to you but she wasn't going to force you to tell her, she didn't want it to seem like she was someone insistent

She simply gave you a nod and then looked ahead, this was where your paths separated as you lived on totally opposite streets

She gave you a big hug as a farewell and then separated from you with a smile on her face

"See you tomorrow (name), take care!"

He said as he shook his hand and his presence disappeared more and more as he walked away

You let out a tired sigh before turning on your heels and taking the path home

You walked with your head down, your thoughts consumed your head that you didn't even notice the imminent danger that was approaching you

You didn't understand why your family seemed to hate you, you were always obedient, good and polite

You were the best in your class and you had great intelligence but you were still invisible to all of them

Sometimes you just wanted to disappear, being someone else didn't matter you just wanted to leave

But you knew that until you turned 18 it would be impossible to get out of that house

You were so distracted in your thoughts that you didn't even have time to react before something too strong pushed you into a dirty alley

You tried to get up and defend yourself but that strange man grabbed you by the neck cutting off your breathing and not being able to get up

As your vision blurred you could see his red eyes and a cynical smile forming on his lips

The last thing you felt was something embedded in your neck causing you to lose consciousness

Everything was black, you couldn't move or feel anything

So you died?

Is this how it all ended? Dying in a dirty alley full of trash and rats?

Maybe this is what you deserved, you were never anything important just trash

And trash should stay with trash, right?

Alfred ran at full speed through the mansion towards Bruce's office, he couldn't believe that this had happened

He slammed open the door to Bruce's office causing Bruce to stop concentrating on the paperwork to look at his butler

It was too strange for Alfred to enter without knocking, and he was also struck by Alfred's worried and disheveled attitude

Only something too important or serious would have to happen to break Alfred's impeccable personality

"Master Bruce...Miss (name)..."

The old man struggled to find air in his lungs, having run all over the mansion had left him exhausted

"What's wrong with her? Don't tell me she got into trouble-"

Alfred interrupted Bruce in the middle of his sentence to speak again

"No...she...she's dead"

Those words hit Bruce hard

Dead?

Your death couldn't be true, it had to be some kind of joke

"What?"

It was the only thing he could say in shock, he knew that Alfred would never lie to him, much less about a subject as serious as death

But his brain simply couldn't process it

_

The entire batfam was at the police station, the news of your death shook the entire family in a bad way

Now they were here to identify your body, they found it in an alley according to the police record a woman who was passing by found your body covered in blood that was supposed to have been yours

According to the police it was a very crude and bloody crime scene

They couldn't believe that someone would be capable of doing that to a being as innocent as you

The simple fact that someone had done all those things to you made everyone's blood boil with rage

Richard felt terrible, remembering all the times you asked him to spend time together and he simply made the excuse that he was busy or that he didn't have time

He was the worst brother, he was supposed to be the oldest one who should have protected you but all he did was push you away and cause your premature death

Jason could barely handle all the emotions he felt at that moment, he felt rage, sadness and regret

He still remembered the times he had insulted you and told you not to interfere in his life

No matter what he had to do, he was going to avenge his little sister and he was going to make the person who had done that to you suffer

In Tim's head he tried to find some possible suspect for your death, maybe the joker had already killed Jason once, it was just a matter of time before he did it again

He could still remember the times he had ignored you, that moment when you made cupcakes was still in his mind and you had the brightest smile of all

You had prepared them especially for your family but all you received was their rejection telling you that they were busy

Remember the rude way in which I refused your food and asked you to leave, right now, anything to be able to be with you and try your desserts

Damian was burning with fury, who was the bastard who dared to kill his sister!?

He, unlike the rest, didn't want to accept his guilt. He firmly believed that the times he had hit you, humiliated you, and insulted you were for your own good.

You should know well that you were too weak for this world, that he was your protector.

Cass could barely process everything. She had lost another important person to her again, and this time it was her fault again.

She leaned against a corner and let her thoughts consume her. She felt the worst. Maybe if she had paid attention to you, you would be alive now.

Barbara felt the same way as Richard. She still remembered the times you begged for her attention, wanting to spend time with her, but she only pushed you away more and more each day.

Steph could only stare at the floor. It was her fault for ignoring you. She thought that at some point you would adapt to the mansion, but it never happened. All she did was make you feel more like a burden and a nuisance.

But the one who felt the worst was Bruce. He was supposed to be your father, he was supposed to be the first to protect you. But he didn't. All he did was ignore you

He was the worst father ever, now because of him you were dead

They took him to a room to identify your body and left him there alone for a few minutes

Right there he collapsed, his serious and unwavering facade broke

His daughter, his baby is now dead because of him, he would do anything to revive you, he would even use the Lazarus pit even knowing the consequences that caused

But suddenly he felt like something lunged at him

And there was you

Alive

You were alive in some way, but he saw that it wasn't you...

Your eyes had that wild look, your teeth were sharp and long nails that you had never had before

He grabbed a metal pipe he found on the floor and tried to fight you by putting it in your mouth so that you wouldn't bite him or disfigure his face with your claws or teeth

Your strength was superhuman, as if you were no longer the (name) that he knew

Now you had become something wilder

But he felt small tears falling on his face, he was crying

It seemed as if a part of you was trying to control your instincts, he noticed your distressed and scared look

Suddenly Richard entered the room with Jason

They had heard a loud noise coming from the room

The men's faces were surprised when they saw you alive

Or rather, you didn't look human and your skin looked paler

Also, your hair had changed, the tips that were completely black before were now orange

The two quickly came out of their trance and helped Bruce get you off of them, you were still struggling and trying to get out of their grip

Then Damian and Tim appeared through the door when they heard all the commotion

Before either of them could speak, Richard interrupted them

"There's no time for explanations, distract the police now!"

He said trying to keep you from getting out of the grip, Tim and Damian just nodded confused as they went with the others to distract the guards

Meanwhile Jason decided that the best idea was to knock you out so he did, but he earned a scolding from Bruce for hitting you so hard

"Stop complaining so much old lady and be thankful we didn't let her kill you"

He said dryly, he saw how you fell surrendered to his arms, for now they should find a way to get you out of here without anyone noticing

_

The days passed quickly in the mansion, they had you with a kind of muzzle on your mouth to prevent any incident

Although after having "revived" you were only aggressive once, to tell the truth this version of you was much calmer and less energetic than the previous one

After Bruce asked Constantine for help he told him that most likely you had been turned into a demon and that if they wanted you to be human again the person that turned you into a demon was supposed to turn you back into a human

For days the batfam spent their time investigating and trying to find information about the person who did that to you but they found almost nothing

But almost nothing was that bad, it seemed you rejected human flesh and blood and you recovered energy by sleeping, you didn't need to eat or drink water just sleep

Most of the day (not to say all day) you spent somewhere in the mansion sleeping

Everyone fought over who would cuddle with you during your morning nap, they agreed on a deal that every day of the week it would be a family member's turn to sleep with you and take care of you

And after everything worked, most of your memories disappeared so they didn't have to worry about you remembering what horrible siblings they were

They also found out that you can't be in the sun unless you want to disintegrate and die

Tim thought it was a good idea to open the windows so you could see the sun after so long

Tim's expression The horror on his face was great when he saw how your skin began to burn and how you screamed in pain

He quickly closed the windows and approached you to see your condition

Luckily your regenerative abilities were very helpful, but Tim still didn't escape Bruce's scolding and you think Damian almost killed Tim that day

You could say that the days in the mansion were good, of course sometimes you would like to go out and see other places but you knew it would be impossible

The batfam preferred to die rather than let you wander alone through the streets of Gotham again, in their eyes you were still that weak little girl even knowing that you could easily kill them all

For now you should get used to this life until they find a cure

But you shouldn't worry, when you are cured they will never let you go again

Never

I finished this quicker than I thought

I hope you like it because I probably won't upload anything for 3 or 4 days

byeee

[siri-ike]

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[entitled-fangirl]

Another Stark.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's wife had always been able to see things that were unexplainable. for better or for worse. Definitely for worse.

Warnings: this is spoooooky, talking to ghosts, cursing, hypothermia, drowning, etc

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

.................................................................

"Feeling alright?" Cregan's voice broke the silence.

She was in her own little world like she often was. She was an odd one, often staring at dark corners or even occasionally conversing with nothing. It was like a trance, one she couldn't snap out of alone.

"Love?" He tried again, dragging a hand up her spine and rubbing at the back of her head.

She snapped out of it in a small fright. 

"There you are," he smiled. His fingers massaged lightly. "Off in your dream world, hm?" At her hum of agreement, he got comfortable next to her on the cold floor. "Are you feeling alright?" He repeated. "Are they being kind?"

'They' were the spirits she often spoke to in these dark corners. Cregan had a small doubt the first time she spoke about it, worrying for her mind. But after she had told him something they had told her that she shouldn't have known, he realized just how much she could see.

And occasionally, the spirits were unkind. They didn't have the ability to do anything, rather, hurt her mentally.

So, asking if they were being kind was a fair question.

"Hm, I think so," she answered.

"You think so?" He could listen to her talk forever.

"I think so."

"Tell me more. Please. Tell me about any of it. I want to hear you."

She looked back to the shadows, almost getting lost in a trance. "He wants me to go with him."

"Hm?" He tried to ignore the way panic moved up his spine. "Go where? Who does?"

"He does," she said, gesturing to the corner. "He wants me to go."

"Love, where?" He said, sitting forward with more concern. "They've never asked you to go anywhere before." He peered over to the dark area as if expecting to see something himself. He never does in these situations.

"He doesn't like when you stare."

A breath left Cregan's lips, a physical show of his walls wearing down. This had to be the most frightened he'd been for these situations.

Often times, there were easy ways to ease her mind. Like a few nights ago-

"Cregan," she softly whispered, pushing on his shoulder to wake him. "Cregan."

He woke with a start, jumping slightly at her nervous breath. "What is it?"

"Tell her to go away."

He was used to odd things like that. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest and lifting his head, vaguely yelling at something to 'fuck off.'

She slept peacefully after that.

"He doesn't like when I stare?" He drew out each word, wanting to catch her meaning.

"He doesn't like you."

Fuck, he breathed. "Who is it?"

"He looks like you. He said his name is… Bennard."

"My love," he redirects sternly. "Listen to me carefully." He takes her hands in his, speaking when her eyes finally find his. "You must stop talking to him. I want you to ignore him."

"But he looks so much like you-"

"-I know," he cooed, "I know. It's natural for him to look alike. He is my uncle. But Bennard is dangerous."

"The uncle who usurped you?"

"Exactly."

She was entirely correct in her description of Bennard. His father, Rickon, had always commented how alike the two looked. They were northerners through and through.

"He's so angry-"

"-Naturally, love. He tried to take the North from me and I had him imprisoned." He waited a moment before coming up with an idea. "Let us retire, hm? You must be exhausted."

"The sun is still out."

"Not for much longer. C'mere."

The two left his solar, not before Cregan could look back one more time with the most defying glare he could muster. As if his uncle would be able to see the absolute hatred in his eyes for daring to speak to his wife. "You'll forget about him in the morning, my sweet wife. I'm sure of that."

…

But the morning was not so quick to come.

Cregan grumbled, slightly woken from sleep as he blindly reached out to pull his wife closer.

But the bed was empty.

There was still warmth to the furs and linens she'd just been on. She hadn't been gone long.

He sat up with a slightly concerned groan, brushing away his hair and rubbing out the sleep from his eyes.

She was nowhere to be found.

So he stood, throwing on an acceptable tunic to be out in the halls of Winterfell. And when he found the nearest guard, he inquired about her.

"She was seen leaving the castle last I saw, my Lord."

Oh fuck. Cregan's worst nightmares were coming to fruition. "In a trance?" He didn't want to ask but he knew he had to.

The guard nodded.

That means she wasn't properly dressed for the cold weather that laid outside the doors. He'd last seen her in her favorite shift he'd pulled from the bureau.

That was nothing near warm enough for her out there. The sun still had an hour or two until it would rise. He needed to hurry.

He stomped back into his chambers, moving as fast as he could to dress. Boots half laced. Cloak more on one shoulder than the other. Hair askew. He didn't care. He circled back around to grab her cloak.

He barely got his gloves from a servant before he'd ran out to the stables.

…

He rode throughout the Godswood, his head on a swivel as he yelled out for her.

He luckily had a bit of a trail of her bare feet in the snow. It was his last resort to getting her back. 

She only ever snapped from her trances when someone else brought her back. It made him all the more determined.

After a while, he realized where she was being led.

The pond.

…

"Y/N!" He screamed as he dismounted his horse.

She was entirely entranced, standing on the edge of the frozen pond.

He approached carefully, like trying to near a frightened animal. He took slow, slow, steps, the snow crunching under his boots. 

Her feet were completely bare, the skin red. No doubt she has hypothermia. "Love," he breathed, stepping a bit closer. There was only a few feet between them now. Surely, he could grab her if he was quick enough.

But she took a step out onto the lake.

"No, no, no," he cursed, stepping to the last bit of dirt he could before reaching the lake. He stretched out, trying to grab her arm before she got too far, but he was inches off. He took the smallest step onto the ice, which made cracking sounds under his boot. The ice was rather thin at the edge. He looked out to the center, seeing that it was far from being frozen over. 

She was sure to fall through at any minute.

"Wait," he tried again. "Love, wait." It hurt him physically to watch her inch closer to her death. 

He had only a few choices. Risk both their lives by rushing onto the lake and grabbing her. Or wait for her to die on her own.

And he wouldn't let that happen.

Especially when she began to journey further.

He'd had enough, stepping out onto the ice. The sound of cracking ice hardly deterred him from getting a few steps out. 

But the ice caved through. His leg fell in, the ice cold water seeping through his pant leg. He caught himself from fully falling in, sitting in concern that more ice was sure to break after it.

When he decided to try again, he got up onto his knees and slowly stood. The ice cracked again, traveling down the pond towards her. Under her feet.

The slight shift in weight snapped her out of her trance. Like waking from a nightmare, she looked around. Her legs shook with realization. She took a step back to turn around but her legs gave out. She fell onto her knees and the cold began to make her numb. "Cregan?" She cried.

He held out a hand to attempt to reassure her. Though, it needed just as much reassurance himself. "Stay there. Just stay for a moment." His eyes were glued to the winding split in the ice that could continue at any moment. "I need to think."

"I didn't mean to," she began to sob, her body shivering. "I didn't… he told me to. I thought…"

"Calm yourself. Don't go into hysterics," he firmly commanded. His head tilted as he tried to ignore the stinging of the soaked fabric against his leg. "My uncle?"

She sniffed. "I thought it was you. You look so alike."

If Bennard Stark was still alive, Cregan would skin him. "I understand." He groaned. "Here's what I want you to do. You're going to stand. And you're going to walk to me."

"No-"

"-You're going to walk to me," he said even firmer. "Can you do that?"

She choked through another sob and nodded. Everything was numb and standing would be difficult. But she was determined to get to Cregan. She managed to stand on shaky legs, though stepping would be another problem. Her head perked up to the center of the pond like her name had been called.

"No," he broke though. "Ignore it. Only listen to me."

She was already on the edge of being whisked away again, her voice getting dreamy, "But he said-"

"-I don't care what he said."

It was a tone Cregan so rarely used that when in play, it caught the attention of everyone around him.

Which snapped her back to. "Sorry," she slurred.

He shook his head, holding a shaky hand out. "Just come here. I need to get you warm."

She managed a few steps, shaky as hell, but she'd done it. The cracking sound under her kept the panic in Cregan but the slow closure of the space between them began to soothe it. 

"Almost," he smiled forcibly to keep her calm. "Almost there. Good."

But one step caused a shift in the frozen lake.

Cregan panicked, determined to get her to him before they were bound to plunge into the icy water. He stepped forward with a clunky boot, which finally broke it though. 

She fell in.

He was frozen for a moment, utterly lost as he watched the ripples in the water fade.

She was gone.

Oh fuck. She was gone.

He dropped down by the place she fell. His arm reached in blindly, trying desperately to grab her. Any part. To feel her beneath his palm. "What have I done?" He whispered to himself. "What h- What have I done?"

Preparing to fully go in himself, his hand finally grasped her. He pulled immediately.

She came to the surface, her body in completely shock.

He pulled her out, holding her to his chest desperately and pushing away from the broken ice with his feet until he deemed it safe enough.

He held her in his lap, panting hot breaths against her neck in relief that he'd found her. The water began to slowly seep through his own clothing but he didn't care. He was desperate to warm her, even if that meant sacrificing some of his own warmth.

Her lips were an odd shade of grey, her skin faded from its usual lively tones. It sickened him.

He rocked her slightly, muttering under his breath small praises that she was still with him. That she was still breathing.

…

"I thank you for your work," Cregan smiled at the septon.

He hated The Seven. Didn't believe a word of the teachings. The Old Gods were the only gods as far as he knew.

But maybe their priests had an ability that he didn't. Like cleansing castles. They surely seemed to think so.

He wouldn't truly know until his wife woke.

But the septon had promised to expel all demons, ghosts, and anything alike from the grounds of Winterfell.

Who was he to deny an offer like that?

Anything to get his uncle as far away as possible.

"Of course," the septon nodded. "It's an honor to be trusted by a Stark. The Seven smile on you."

They fucking better, he thought. "How kind."

"Even now, Cregan Stark, they've chosen to bless you."

He was getting pretty done with other worldly things for a while. "That's nice. Someone, please walk him to his room."

"I mean it," he continued, even as a servant politely steered him away to the guest quarters. "All seven regard you highly."

He walked away, physically shaking his head to push the nonsense from his mind. That septon was so adamant about it. It planted a seed of doubt in the northerners mind. Bless him? What does that m-

"Milord. Lady Stark is awake."

Cregan's jaw went a little slack. Blessed, indeed. "T-Thank you. I'll go there now."

…

"Feel alright?" He asked even now, days later. It felt like a mantra at this point. 

"I told you, 'm fine," she sighed, curled up in the furs with a bowl of soup in her lap.

"I know you have. Can't help but worry. You can't blame me, can you, pretty girl? Hm?" His hand smoothed over the curls in her hair from the pillow. He could stare at her all day like this. Comfortable, clean, content, alive.

"He just looked so much like you," she remarked, still not over the scare from days before. "Like you, but older."

His hand moved down to cup her cheek, rubbing the skin affectionately. "I'd rather you wait for me to age then try to join that one so soon."

It was his soft attempt at lightening the tension. And it worked.

Her lips quirked up. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What if I said I kicked him out? Banished him forever?"

She was growing more amused now. "I'd say you're a liar."

He leaned in, laying the softest of kisses to her lips. "Then I tell such truthful lies, my love. For I've banished all that ails you. Perhaps I'll banish the snow next."

She never did see Bennard Stark again in Winterfell. Or anything else for the matter. The dark shadows were just that. Dark shadows. Nothing more.

And if she willed it, Cregan would scare the darkness off next.

...............................................................

Taglist: @alyssa-dayne @twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner @purple-1995

[imholtorf]

Sub-Level 50 - babybee au

for @yuukirita

Orion Pax and D-16 were brought to sub-level 50 as they meet baby bee for the first time.

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

Darkwing is holding both Orion and D-16 as he flies down passing several sub-levels until he stopped and throws them into the room of the sub-level "Wait, wait, wait, you don't understand! We were supposed to go Sentinel Prime's service spot" D-16 protested "You two dolts aren't going to see anyone ever again! I'll make of that!" Darkwing retorted as he flies up and the doors closed.

"You're making a mistake, ask Sentinel!" Dee added "Ugh, I hate that guy" Orion grumbled. The mechs turned around and look at the room they're in; garbage is falling down from the chute, landed on the conveyor belt, and heading towards the furnace.

Suddenly, they spotted a tiny yellow cybertronian and he spotted them in return "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" he wondered as he approaches them as Orion and Dee got startled as they shuffled themselves away from him as their backs are against the doors.

"You're like me...you're like me! Hi! I'm B-127, or Bee, or Badassatron!!! Why are you so much taller than me?" the tiny cybertronian exclaimed, but Orion and Dee answer as they couldn't believe their optics "Is that a--" Orion said "sparkling?" Dee finished his sentence. "What's a sparkling?" the sparkling asked.

"We should be asking you something, like: how did you get down here?" Dee replied "I don't know" Bee retorted "What do you mean you don't know?" Orion added "I mean I woke up in here" Bee said "You mean you've been down here when you came online" Orion stated "Yes" Bee answered "And exactly where is here?" Dee added "Sub-Level 50" Bee replied "50? but, there only 40 sub-levels" D-16 stated.

"If that's whatchu thought then they must've got 10 more down here" Bee added "Then how come none of us aren't informed about this?" Orion asked "Maybe, they're scary?" Bee suggested "Oh, what are your names?" he asked "I'm Orion Pax and this is D-16" Orion said.

"Okay, now with that clear. How do we get out of here?" D-16 asked "Ummm...you don't?" Bee guessed "We don't" Dee replied "Well, we have limited access to the waste management. But, the bot in charge does not like distractions. They prefer we stay here on the task at hand" Bee explained.

"Which is?" Orion asked "Oh, the junk stuff comes from the tunnel there onto the moving thingy" Bee explained "You mean the chute and conveyor belt?" Orion added "Um, yeah. Anyway, we have to look for anything might be worth useable before it hits the flames and gets melted" Bee finished.

"So, you watch garbage burn?" Dee stated "Yes! It is so great that you're here now. I can't wait to learn everything about you and then tell you everything about me. I've always wanted have some real friends!" Bee exclaimed "Uh, yeah we love--" Orion acknowledge as he and D-16 were holding themselves back as they found Bee's excitement adorable.

[ecstarry]

So now, Regulus Black oral fixation!

AISDJNAS YES YES YES, ONE THING ABOUT REG?? HE LOVES TO SUCK DICK!!!! FIRST OF ALL, GOOD MORNING <33 NOW, ALLOW ME TO CONTINUE

Here's my ask about James' oral fixation

He loves it SO MUCH he literally got rid of his gag reflex, that man goes DEEP.

Reg loves to make a fucking mess of it, making sure James' dick is COATED in spit and pre-cum with his hands before he goes in

HE LOVES GIVING JAMES A MORNING BJ!!! James always wakes up with a hard on SOOO HE'S CLEARLY READY. Maybe he's always hard because HE KNOWS Reg will treat him in the morning

His tongues does a fucking NUMBER on James' tip, he makes sure his tongue is flat and surrounding it.

REGULUS BLACK HAS THE CUNTIEST SEX LOOK IN THE WORLD. HIS EYES DO YOU KNOW THAT THING WHEN HE LOOKS UP AT JAMES.

HE LOVES TEASING AN ORAL!!!! He will get on his knees any chance he gets just to get James all excited, he looks up with those fuckey eyes at James and then JUST TIES HIS SHOES.

LONGER HAIR REG TIES HIS HAIR A CERTAIN WAY WHEN HE'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN AND THAT ALREADY MAKES JAMES ALL EXCITED

He loves to also have James on top, LOVES the weight of James' body over him when he's eating him.

also Reg is a PRINCESS OKAY?? NO MESSES LEFT BEHIND!!!! HE ALWAYS SALLOWS!!!!!

HE ALWAYS FINDS WAY TO LOOK UP TO JAMES TO GET HIM RILED UP BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT IT MAKES JAMES THINK ABOUT HOW HE WOULD LOOK DOWN ON HIS KNEES

He's tongue techinique is PERFECT!! he knows exactly how to move it once it's ALL IN!!!

BALLS ARE NEVER NEGLECTED!!! MY MAN ALWAYS HAS A HAND THERE!!

side note: BARTY GAVE HIM HIS FIRST BJ TO SHOW HIM HOW TO DO IT AND REG TOOK THAT ADVICE BUT HONESTLY MY MAN IS A NATURAL AT SUCKING DICK!!!

SO YEAH <33333

[ljblueteak]

Rowan Chase: Dies. Denies Chase closure and cuts him out of his will.

House: "Dies." Chase was able to tell House "thank you" in Post-Mortem and get a handshake. It's not closure-closure, but they didn't have unfinished business. Chase inherits House's job and office, complete with tennis ball.

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Spidey mutate!

Ah yes, the current brainrot au that's been keeping me up at night for the last month!

It's my first WIP for a Peter and Tony dynamic, and in the au the spider bite has a much more drastic mutation on Peter. And after mutating (and a fight with his uncle) he runs away from home. Mutant relations aren't good to say the least, and the new Accords would put him and his family at risk with the newly added registry.

he runs to upstate New York and decides to live isolated away from people, and resorts to stealing from lakeside cabins and campgrounds when he can to survive.

it's when he gets caught breaking into a cabin looking for some batteries, that he realizes he's been stealing from Iron Man the whole time.

Tony stared at the kid in front of him. He had dirt smudged on his face and caked onto the short fur on his face. He picked at the skin underneath his… claws. His skin was pale and dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and he bit his lip nervously as he glanced around the living room. Tony huffed and leaned back against the couch.  The kid ducked his head away, turning his gaze to the floor, but Tony had a feeling he was still being watched by the two eyes against his cheekbone and temple. God, that was freaky. He cleared his throat.  “Where are your parents?” “They’re dead.” The kid said bluntly. He was quick with it too, almost like he meant to throw Tony off. But he just hummed in response. “Bummer. What about a foster parent? Spider-guardian? Did you break out of a hatchery or something? Do I need to worry about 200 of your siblings hiding out in the forest too?” “What? No-” “Well where did you come from then?” “I… ran away.” “Uh huh, I figured that much, Shelob. To what, be the new Jersey Devil? What are you doing here?” Peter looked up, all of his eyes boring into Tony. If he were any other man, Tony would’ve shivered at the sight. But he’d rather go through a wormhole again than let a teenager stare him down. No matter how mutated they were. “Huh?” he responded. Tony sighed, now getting annoyed.  “Where can I return you? And where are my Crocs?”

I have A LOT of thoughts for this au! Not much written for it yet, but i would LOVE to post something for it in the future!! I've also made art and memes for it too!

Needless to say it's been living in my brain.

[pr4yerp0sition]

People who complain about Ichigo not being a cool protag don't understand him. Loves his family, loves his friends, delinquent strawberry kid with a heart of gold, insane drip (have you seen his casual clothing) never truly had selfish intentions he just wanted to do good. Don't @ me with the cliche a good morality character is boring because did we not witness his self loathing? The fractions of who he is personified by his power?

[artemistorm]

💛💛💛💛

Sending you good vibes cause I'm having a rough day (and possibly a sprained finger) and don't want you having a bad day too 💛💛💛

-🦔

Well... my day is not starting off great either. I stayed up too late reading manga and now I have what might be the beginnings of a headache and I'm late to get up for school.

How did you injure your finger? I hope it doesn't hurt too badly. Sorry you're also having a bad day.

[osaemu]

choso choso choso

[sleep-nurse]

i'm back i feel like collapsing at this very moment

[skinzchoerim]

This might be a huge reach, but I find it curious that in nabi, the pronouns switch from she to you in the English lines:

She left the perfume from the moment // Can't take my eyes away // When I look into your eyes

The following Korean lyrics are:

It feels like I'm drunk, if only I could stop the world as it is, I wouldn't be afraid

It kind of makes me think that the she and you could be different people and it would indicate that one of the lovers cheated. Again, seeing as it references chrOme hearts in the first line, which is very up and down/hot and cold, it wouldn't surprise me if one of them had enough, maybe even used it to fuel jealousy in some twisted attempt to make their relationship stronger. It seems like the person singing is the one who cheated and he regrets it, because now he's forced to face change when he's being left alone.

Their discussion of No More Perfume on You in exchange member directed me to this line of thought, but other than that one verse, the song doesn't seem very regretful, more just longing and not wanting to let go, so it's more likely not the case.

[canichangemyblogname]

For allies and other genderqueer people...

If you're curious about someone's pronouns and are unsure of their gender, ask personally. If you want to know where someone's landed in a gender journey because where they are has changed from where you knew them- and they've largely yet to tell people- ask personally.

Don't corner someone. Don't confront someone. Just ask casually and privately if you feel you must. Please.

Because otherwise, you're making someone choose between the discomfort of being untrue to themselves or the discomfort of outing themselves in public where that might not be safe.

Don't, for example, ask a "hypothetical" someone in front of a large group- some of whom are complete strangers and some of whom are old friends this person has not seen in literally years- if pronouns have changed. Even if everyone at the table is queer. Don't ask someone this in the middle of a restaurant in ear-shot of other patrons and all the employees. Don't then proceed to yell across the table asking about this person's gender journey and if this person bought a binder and if this person binds, and where this person's transition might go from here. Even if you are genderqueer and at one time explored your gender expression in a similar way.

When this totally "hypothetical" person hedges around the questions with a shrug and an "I don't know," don't press this person. Drop it. Certainly, don't insist on using a different set of pronouns than the ones you were previously familiar with. "How about they/them? I'll use they/them." Because now this person has to choose between being misgendered or coming out in the middle of a fucking restaurant miles away from home and in front of strangers. And even if this person chooses to stay in the closet at that moment by asking you to use old pronouns, you have still made this person choose between being misgendered or coming out in public in front of literal strangers.

And also! Don't tell a totally "hypothetical" dude that he needs to discover the wonders of being involved with women romantically and sexually immediately after he tells you he's a dude and, yes, he likes guys. And don't insist that one day he'll have a sexuality crisis and realize he's "gay" because he probably, truly likes women. And when he corrects you and tells you, "If I'm a dude and I'm exclusively into chicks, that'd make me het," don't double down. Because that tells him that you essentially see him as "girl lite" or a different font of girl. You see him as a chick who's just so quirky that she uses he/him pronouns and goes by an edgy name as a "fuck you" to the patriarchal gender binary, but that's not who HE is.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[n4b3]

.

[a-commas-a-pause]

For me, learning about the less-famous symptoms/presentations of autism cleared a lot of things up regarding this kind of experience. Plus realising that I'm just Way more prone to anxiety than most people and it's likely a brain chemistry thing that I can't really do much about. And also realising that even though I did have one of the most idyllic childhoods it's possible to have, no one goes through life without incidentally accruing little micro-traumas here and there. Especially if you're neurodivergent. Some of my worst childhood memories ever are things like... being told off by a teacher I respected. And I'm incredibly privileged for that! So many people have much worse memories. Most of mine are honestly things that simply Are Going To Happen Sometimes, Sorry. And I had to learn to deal with e.g. being rejected by someone whose opinion I valued. That's a universal human experience! It's part of life! But also - the fact I still remember those experiences years later means that they affected me strongly and it's ok for me to take that seriously and treat myself gently with respect to those memories. I am a very ✨ sensitive ✨ person and that has its benefits (tends to go hand in hand with perceptiveness, for one thing. Also I'm like 90% sure that it's not just the negative emotions that I get at extra high volume but also at least some of the positive ones) but it also has its drawbacks and those drawbacks are real and legitimate.

It's also actually been really worth knowing/accepting that I'm (heavy quotation marks) "sensitive". Because it makes it a lot easier to avoid harmful knee-jerk reactions. I have a conscious policy of keeping my emotional responses to things (often disproportionate, and wildly illogical) as far away from my irl actions as possible because I know there's often no particular foundation to my anxiety. Like I get where the ''trust your gut'' people are coming from - often your subconscious is telling you something useful - but personally I'm a big proponent of "trust but verify" when it comes to gut feelings. And not jumping to conclusions. Rather than wasting energy fighting my own mind with guilt about how I "should be" more resilient, I accept that I'm gonna be feeling a lot of feelings and as much as I'm able I account for that. I used to get in horrible arguments with friends and family because me emotions were just So Loud but I felt like I had to muscle through and continue a conversation because otherwise I'd be weak. I'm getting a lot better about Not doing that these days, and from the outside it seems like I've become a more chill person, but I really haven't. I'm still as much of a wound ball of stress as ever. I'm just consciously choosing to direct it differently - and giving myself more and longer breaks than I was ever allowed to have, back when I was on a strict school schedule.

Anyway I definitely don't have all the answers (or really any answers that you've not already thought of, I suspect) but you're not alone in this, I promise. It happens to me too.

Sometimes I get sad and frustrated thinking about how I had a normal childhood with good parents and incredible privileges and accommodations, and I avoided almost all common adverse and traumatic events, and yet my entire life has felt in my body like I'm being chased through a torture labyrinth by a hateful God

Like okay when i was like 10 I got a regular stomach bug while I was spending the night at mamaw's house and I had a full-blown trauma response to it. I started having panic attacks so bad I thought I was going to die. I remembered every single detail of the night I got sick and developed weird superstitions about objects I'd interacted with. I never wore any of the clothes I had been wearing ever again, except my socks, which I didn't touch for like. 6 or 7 years.

This wasn't an isolated incident. I have searched my memories desperately for some kind of deeper trauma that underlies the state of mental health disaster I've constantly been in as far back as I can remember, and I've got nothing. I was just born too psychologically fragile to be alive.