#someone who grievs her father and siblings

[asuindara]

It's kinda sad how Vi has so many insecurities due to her not so functional family. Lilith Sorrengail was not a good mom and from what we've learned Violet's father was more of a tutor than an father per se. Though I believe both her parents love her, Violet has learned that love means she needs to present as some sort of useful or exceptional person. For her love is conditional to her intelligence or strength. Mira and Brennan are too busy worrying about her health and safety to teach her that love should be unconditional of your abilities.

To have your own mother offer you to a deadly quadrant after a WHOLE ASS year of ignoring is heartbreaking. To feel so alone in the world after a sibling death and Mira leaving for her rider career, with an emotionally distant mother and a dead father. A best friend who left for the riders quadrant while she was still grieving. I think the books explored so little how messed up her mental health was.

Having a disability is also traumatic. No matter how used to it someone may be, nothing can soothe the fact your body is your biggest enemy. Having to navigate life not sure when you're going to be betrayed by it. Having people only look at you with pity because all they can see is your disability. You're not a person, you're an "illness". Living in pain is just horrible too. Also, the brutal ableism she suffers throughout the whole book and her seemingly neutral reaction makes me wonder how many times people insulted her in life - intentionally or not.

Violet is good at hiding and packing her trauma in boxes, but she doesn't addresses or deals with it. She doesn't ask for comfort either because nobody gave it to her unconditionally or blatantly gaslighted her into stopping.

Ugh, I am ranting but Violet Sorrengail is such a painful character for me. She reminds me of myself too much sometimes

I think we all forget that Violet has a lot of trauma.

I feel like because Xaden's trauma gets talked about so often we forget about Violet and all that she has been through. We all forget about Violets mental health. Xaden may be visibly sad and broken but Violet really hides all of her mental health issues. She has all these insecurities and anxieties and she has no idea who to talk about them with. She tried talking to Xaden but he just told her that "he thinks she's perfect so Violet should too" but that's not how it works. And obviously this is because Xaden also doesn't know how to process his emotions but the problem is that when he opens up Violet is always ready to listen and help. Xaden as much as he tries doesn't know how to help Violet so she is forced to carry everything alone. By saying this I am not in anyway trying to invalidate Xaden's trauma I just think that Violet deserves a little more grace from the fandom and a little more support from Xaden.

[kiyrian]

I just realized: Jinx in S1 talks about how her & Vi situation is so much different than Silco & Vander. Now though we know they are very very similar and it's just that Silco never told her what really happened.

And we do see that he omits parts of the story - he shares new insight with her during the baptism scene after she mentions that they already went over it several times. Maybe he does it because some things aren't for children to learn, maybe because he struggles with sharing his real weak points.

Still, in the case of Jinx and Vi's parents I wonder if it's guilt - the same guilt Jinx feels over the death of her brothers. Or maybe fear - fear that Jinx would leave him if she found out her parents died after (and here I'm guessing based on Vander's flashbacks) Silco threw a Molotov cocktail at the guards. Hard to tell if he was the first to attack or it was a retaliation but the ending is the same: the parents died and Vander blamed Silco. Just like Vi blamed Jinx. Until Vander didn't but Silco never got to learn that. Until Vi didn't but she came with an enforcer and there was no time to talk.

How much easier would it be for Jinx if Silco shared the whole story? If he showed her that the similarities run deeper and that even after all this she (I assume) still saw his as a father figure -> she too deserved love despite her mistakes. Hell, if Vander ever talked to Silco or Silco tried to find him before S1 the whole problem would probably be solved before it even started.

And then what about Jinx sharing the whole story with Vi? How Silco was her father (was he good at it? that's a different topic. Still she grieves him as his daughter, she misses his lessons and guidance). How she didn't mean for the things to happen. How she needs help with her hallucinations (Silco tried to help with those and do they even have any kind of mental health professionals to offer real help? probably not. Still, not treating it as an excuse for her behavior but a real problem she's struggling with would do wonders.) We get some of it in S2 Act 2 but they are always in action and there are so many "almosts". Vi almost touching Jinx's shoulder. Jinx almost reaching out. The talk about future. They get family hugs with Vander. But this doesn't solve the grief, the hurt.

Here's to hoping the girls can break this circle of "All we needed was one honest conversation and then work on our relationship but we could have made it. Instead all we have is grief and useless legacy."

(Yet how often we don't get to have those kind of conversations in real life? How often we lose people because we never really explained? I love and hate how well Arcane portraits it)

[delulujuls]

healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

[goomyloid]

got uty au pilled again, sorry... more info under the cut

an AU where ceroba, in the end, refuses to inject kanako with the serum. even after all her research, she just can't trust that it's totally safe. while kanako accepts this, she still wishes she could eventually be of use somehow, and indirectly blames herself for her father's death.

despite all this, with kanako alive, ceroba is able to grieve chujin in a far less desperate way, still having her daughter by her side. as the years go by, ceroba devotes more and more of her time to finishing chujin's research in hopes of finally making a serum that can save the underground. kanako is determined to help, too -- together, they clean up chujin's lab and make it a far nicer place to work, because they're in this together now. well, in theory.

ceroba still certainly takes care of kanako and does her best to be a good mother, but as time passes, ceroba spends more and more time in the lab trying to find an answer. kanako, being the social butterfly that she is, can't bring herself to always stay shut inside like her mother; she travels daily to Oasis Valley, making friends and becoming the town darling. as ceroba spends more time working, kanako spends more and more time taking care of the estate, trying to spend time outside whenever possible.

but it gets kind of lonely. the ketsukane estate is off outside of Oasis Valley, and not many people come by. she's worried about her mother, who's been shutting her out as she becomes more desperate to find a solution. there's only so much to do at the house.

then, clover falls into the underground and explores the dunes. there are barely any other kids at this spot in the underground -- finally, someone around her age! she's immediately entranced by them and determined to become their friend, even after finding out they're a human -- that just makes them cooler...!

but there's a problem; kanako has seen her father's tapes, she knows that a human soul would be extremely valuable to producing the serum. of course, she wants to help save the underground, and she wants her mother to finally be rid of stress and be able to spend time with her again... but after spending time with clover, kanako knows there's no way she can let clover die. they're like the sibling she never had...

and kanako can't even let her mother know that clover exists, either; she knows exactly what will happen if ceroba finds out there's a human here. and yet, a secret part of her wishes and hopes that maybe, just maybe, ceroba could find value in clover as a person and then they could all live in the ketsukane estate together. it would be a dream come true! maybe there's even some way clover can help ceroba without having to give up their soul...?

but things aren't destined to work out that way. any number of things could happen.

clover could peacefully move on in their quest through the underground, leaving a sad and lonely kanako behind.

or, ceroba finds out about clover in one way or another, and things are not looking good. but would she choose to take clover's life at the cost of her daughter's one and only friend?

what if clover didn't come in peace, but in vengeance?

or maybe ceroba somehow accepts clover, growing to respect them after all is said and done, and she tries to experiment on a living human soul?

or maybe, wracked with grief and loneliness, kanako discards her mother's warnings and takes the new, updated serum herself, determined to become the hero for her family like she always wanted...?

or, something else could happen.

what if, after an unhappy ending, kanako wakes up on that same day again, waiting for clover to come by the ketsukane estate for the first time? she doesn't even know how it's possible, reliving the same few weeks over and over. she just wants to find her happy ending, and she'll search and search for as long as she needs to.

how long can she watch the same endings play out over and over?

[ubeb0nes]

Gen. Sevika HCs (& Romantic!)

Brainstorming little thoughts on big mama to help me characterize her for a story i wanna write!

She is actually very slow to anger, it’s just that Jinx is very gifted at pushing her buttons and she’s been dealing with Silco letting it slide for years. It’s part of what makes her such a scary opponent in a fight, she (usually) never loses her composure.

And on that note, i feel so bad that poor bbg had to lose most of her fights for the plot, especially in S1 😭 she definitely helped train Vi a little when she was younger

She's Silco's right hand in all ways. Whether someone needs to be beat down or a hand needs to be shook, Sevika is equipped in body and mind. Her physical presence lends itself well to subtle intimidation when she's cutting Silco's deals. Her default isn't to direct, brutish threatening actually, she avoids fights where she can especially as she gets older.

She's a very thoughtful person, spending a lot of time within her own mind or picking apart other people's. She's not as direct as Silco, who pushes people's buttons to get a sense of how their mind works, she just intently observes them. Honestly, she gives me similar vibes to Arthur Morgan in temperament the more I think about it. Honorable version, of course.

Continuing on her thoughtful trait, she had to learn to be very intuitive about people's emotions to avoid the wrath of her step-father. She appreciated her dad too late, spending more time butting heads with him than realizing how alike they truly were; so goes the theme of eldest daughters, though.

I imagine her as being very timid as a child. Not quite meek, but she wasn't as brash as teen Vi. She toughened up out of necessity, per the usual for kids growing up in Zaun, in order to defend her younger siblings (she has two) from her step dad once her father died.

Her father died in a mining accident. They never found his body, and even now sometimes Sevika hopes that he'll walk through the door and just… forgive her, for everything she has and hasn't done.

She was also pretty slight as a kid until about seventeen, where she proceeded to shoot up to 6'1" and started putting on muscle when Vander took her in under his wing. Her step dad never put his hands on her or her younger siblings again.

She was always closer to Vander than Silco. It truly did hurt her to turn her back on him, but she couldn't live with the slow death of complacency that he'd chosen for Zaun. She never goes through the process of fully grieving him, she simply pushes forward and carries on.

Romantic

Loyal to you like she's loyal to Zaun. Seriously, this woman doesn't know how to cheat. Not that the other women of Arcane are 'more' likely to cheat, but Sevika is the least likely imo. If she doesn't want you anymore she'll just break it off, anything less is cowardly and she is anything but.

She gets very cuddly and needy when she's tired which is often. She never asks for cuddles, just kinda uses her size to her advantage and pins you on the couch while she squeezes you like a stuffed toy.

"Mm… stop whinin', just five minutes…" She'll relent if you actually don't wanna be smothered, but unless you express that, you're hers until she says otherwise.

Calls you 'baby', 'sweetheart' and 'princess' the most. The last one started as a jab for either giving her attitude or being prissy, until she realized the flush on your face wasn't from anger. To others, she refers to you as her girl or says things like "no, me and the lady got plans" or "i promised the lady I'd be home on time Silco, you wanna piss her off too?"

Definitely got more where these all came from, lmk if you'd like me to continue!

[miupow]

CRAVE。⧼ PROLOGUE ⧽ ─── 투모로우바이투게더

stay away from the woods。

★ pairing。txt ot5 x fem!reader‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ fantasy , romance , comedy , angst , eventual smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。descriptions of personal injury and blood ・animal attacks ・mentions of illness and death ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎wc。2. 1 k | to library。

★ includes。。。heeseung from enhypen

notes from lia。finally!! happy thanksgiving everyone, i'm thankful for every single one of my amazing readers!! i hope you enjoy the prologue to my very much anticipated crave series!! look out for the first chapter in the beginning of december!!

all your life, you had been told to never step foot into the woods. that there were monsters lurking just below its dark canopy, hiding just out of sight and patiently waiting to strike. and yet the whistling of the pines has never been this entrancing. the trees taunt you from your safe little cabin, their outstretched branches waving and creaking in the wind as if they were beckoning you closer and closer.

you can see them just as perfectly from the bakery as you can from your bedroom window. they feel inescapable.

the shrill, tinny ringing of a bell snaps your attention away from the open window, your thoughts having consumed you as you laid out fresh loaves of bread to cool in the frosty air. you brush your floury hands off on your apron and turn to welcome your customer, your polite smile growing into a warm grin when you recognize the lanky boy standing by your workbench.

“that’s an awful lot to be doing all on your own.” he comments with a sideways smile, running his fingers through his auburn hair.

“i open the shop by myself every morning, hee.” you reply pointedly, rising to your tip toes to give him a quick hug before brushing past him towards the towering stone oven. “you know mother can’t work this early anymore.”

“couldn’t you ask one of your siblings to help?”

“they’re too young to use the oven or mill the wheat, they’d be no help at all. it’s not even that much work, really, just baking and cleaning. i don’t want to burden them with all of this on top of everything else.”

nothing has been the same since your father fell ill. the bakery was his and your mother’s, a humble way to support their family and their quaint little village for decades. you were never particularly wealthy, but you had enough to get by. consumption, the village doctor had called it. it was a truly fitting word for the disease that slowly consumed your poor, frail father whole. nothing was left, not even the bones. a mere shadow laid in bed all day, a ghost whose coughs have began to sound like rattling chains. none of the medicines the doctor prescribed ever worked, they only seemed to be making him sicker. he said that there was a hospital in the royal city, but your village was days away by carriage, and you and your mother had nowhere near the means to fund the trip. part of you were certain he wouldn’t survive the journey either way.

your mother now spends her days caring for him, an apothecary’s daughter clinging on to the last shreds of hope that her remedies will ward off the hands of death. you desperately wish you could feel the same, but you’ve already begun grieving… until recently.”

“mother said she’d stop by to help this afternoon.” you assert, leaving no more room for discussion. you can feel his eyes on your back, watching you as you stoke the firewood and slide trays of dough into the oven. “you worry about me too much! i’m not a little girl anymore.”

“i worried about you then and i’ll worry about you now.” heeseung chuckles endearingly, erupting a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “you’ve always been a little too brave.”

his words remind you of your mulling thoughts, pulling your gaze back to the window. “heeseung, have you ever known someone who went into the woods?”

heeseung is quiet for a worryingly long time. “the blackwoods? not anyone who made it back… why?”

your mind is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut, but you just can’t keep it all bottled up inside anymore. you’ve never hidden a single thing from your best friend, except this. “i was reading my mothers books the other day.” you admit softly, unable to look him in the eye. “in one of them it said there is a plant that grows in the blackwoods, a type of flower. it can cure any illness, save people from the brink of death…”

“y/n.” heeseung warns, his face dropping. “you’re not seriously considering going in there, are you?”

you hesitate for a second too long— he cuts you off with a scoff, stepping forward to grip your shoulders with his rough carpenter’s hands. “there’s no way that flower is even real, y/n. don’t be childish. just some fairytale out of one of your mother’s quack medicine books.”

“it was my grandfather’s.” you defend softly, finally looking up into heeseung’s eyes— the coldness you find in them frighten you.

“he was a quack too.” heeseung retorts, releasing your shoulders to turn and swiftly slam the bakery window shut. your loaves shake from the force. “there’s no magical flower that is going to save your father, especially not in the blackwoods. i love you, y/n, seriously, but you can’t keep believing in fairytales— and you wonder why i worry about you so much! promise me, you won’t go in those woods. please. one step inside and you’ll never come out. i can’t afford to lose you— your family can’t afford to lose you.”

“okay.” you relent, just loud enough for heeseung to hear. “you’re right, i was being ignorant. i won’t go into the woods.”

“say you promise.”

“i… i promise…”

standing at the edge of the forest, your cold clammy fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of your satchel, you’re caught frozen in place. you just can’t seem to get your feet to step forward, your psyche screaming at you to turn back and run home. heeseung’s words circle your thoughts, so all-consuming that you swear you can hear them in the howling wind— you haven’t told a lie since you were very young, and never to heeseung of all people. the guilt nags at you to the point of nausea.

but you had made up your mind long before you had spoken to heeseung earlier that morning. he’s a simple woodworker, he doesn’t understand a single thing about the healing magic that hides in nature… but your grandfather did. he wrote those books himself, a man who would risk his life in the pursuit of knowledge, just to help others. you wanted nothing more than to continue his legacy, save your father and prove to your close-minded little village that he was anything but the insane, rambling idiot that they all viewed him as. before and after his death. you’ve been preparing for weeks, reading as much as you can about the dangers of the blackwoods, packing whatever you possibly could think of to help you on the journey. you might have overpacked, to be honest, your weathered leather satchel hanging heavy on your shoulder. if everything went as you planned, you would be back home before anyone would notice that you were gone.

your breath fogs in front of your face, reminding you of the hearth smoke billowing from your cabin’s chimney. you can still see it, just beyond the hill, its straw hatch roof just visible over the tall grass waving in the wind. you could turn back now, put all your things away and fall asleep in the safety of your bedroom. you could forget about all of this and wake up tomorrow morning as if you had never planned anything at all.

you will yourself to move your feet, frozen in your boots like the frost on the leaves, and you enter the ominous pitch-black dark of the blackwoods.

the tree canopy is so thick that the moonlight barely breaches it, everything swathed in darkness as you walk farther and farther away from home. the flickering candle in your lantern does little to illuminate much except what was right in front of you. you focus on what you can see, the dead fallen leaves and frosty underbrush that crunch loudly underneath your feet as you venture deeper. it’s deafening in your ears, the forest eerily silent all around you, not even the distant call of an owl, the scattering of a chipmunk— you’re certain that any creatures hiding in the trees or in the brush knew of your presence.

including the monsters.

in none of the books you read would they ever describe them more than just that; monsters that use the night as camouflage, that kill livestock in their pens and steal children from their beds. any intruder in their own territory will certainly be made short work out of. you’ve always believed that they were nothing but scary stories to keep children well behaved, a tall tale your mother would use to get you to come inside for bed.

distantly, cutting sharply through the silence, you hear the howling of a wolf. it sounded a safe distance away, yet it still sent you jumping. the sudden movement causes your lantern to extinguish, plummeting you into complete and total darkness. your heart dropping, you curse, placing it on the forest floor against a mossy tree before opening the flap of your satchel and rummaging blindly through the contents for your matchbox. you try to steady your breathing, heart rattling against your ribcage, matchbox just beyond your grasp as you struggle in the dark.

you hear the rustling of leaves just to your right. desperately, you tell yourself that you’re just hearing things.

finally, you wrap your fingers around the familiar shape of your matchbox, pulling it out to fumble with its contents before you pick back up your lantern. with a strike of the match against the rough bark of the tree, you’re illuminated once again, carefully lighting the candle before putting out the match with a shake of your hand. triumphantly, you turn to continue to venture farther into the woods, before stopping cold. your breath knocks out of you all at once, leaving you gasping in the cold air.

farther up on the oak tree, carved crudely into the bark, are three sharp claw marks you’re almost certain weren’t there before.

but they had to have been, because there was simply no way that something could have snuck up so close to you without you noticing. these woods were driving you mad, you feared, still trying to steady your breathing as you turn and step forward.

as you continue deeper into the forest, you swear you hear another pair of footsteps following your own. you stop abruptly to catch them, but you hear nothing— another thing you must be imagining… yet you set onward a little faster than before.

maybe it was that wolf you had heard, you entertained as you examine the dark twisted trees. it sounded rather far away, but you couldn’t be one to discount the creature’s speed. maybe it was just watching you to make sure you weren’t a threat, and it would leave you shortly…

a growl, deep and barely audible, rumbles from between the bushes. you break out into a wild sprint, gasping and panting, running deep into the unknown. the creature chases you with frightening speed, no longer trying to hide its footsteps as it weaves through the forest floor. you had no idea where you were or where you were going, but this beast… this was his home. the hunt was on.

low hanging branches scratch and tear at your skin and clothing as you run, blood running down your face, legs and arms— you couldn’t feel the pain, the adrenaline numbing everything except for the terror in your heart. now you were just easier to track, you agonized, but you couldn’t do anything but keep running, dropping your satchel and lantern to lighten your load as much as you could. alas, you barely ran any faster… you were starting to slow down, exhaustion was starting to creep up on you, your chest aching and desperate for breath, your legs screaming in pain as you stumble and stagger through the labyrinth of trees. you couldn’t see a single thing in front of you, completely lost in the darkness, your arms outstretched to feel around as you ran.

the creature was advancing, it’s footsteps thunderous right behind you, its snarls and growls growing closer and closer. in a desperate attempt to escape, you sharply turn to the right to run in a different direction.

just as you move to step forward, your boot wedges itself underneath an exposed tree root, and you are sent tumbling to the mossy ground. you try to break your fall with your hands, but you react far too late— you slam your head against a jagged rock, blinding white light flashing behind your eyelids before your world goes black.

the last thing you feel is pain, and the last thing you see are two bright, bloody red eyes staring at you through the darkness.

[fairytalelover33]

One thing that will never cease to amaze me is how OVERLOOKED VI’S TRAUMA IS IN ARCANE.

Maybe it’s just the oldest daughter in me talking; But the trend I most often see in Arcane posts, rants and such, is a back and forth over Caitlin and Jinx. Who’s in the right between the two, who’s justified, who has more of a reason to grieve over their dead parent.

Vi is almost NEVER talked about when it comes to who has the right. And that is SO oldest sister of her.

She was the one old enough to properly understand what happened when their parents got killed.

She was the token older sister, always prepared to defend and take the fall for her younger siblings, hell, she was even prepared to get arrested or God knows what to protect Powder, Milo and Claggor at the age of what, 14-16?

She DID get arrested, and she was in there for about 7 years, in the darkest, dampest place she could possibly be, without sunlight, or fresh air, or ANY idea on if she would ever get out, her only hope and reason for pushing on STILL being her younger sister who also accidentally killed their entire family. WHO VI STILL LOVES AND WANTS TO PROTECT DESPITE THE FACT. And we also learn that Vi was definitely physically abused while she was stuck in that cell, (the look on her face when she hears that clunking coming down the hall proves it wasn’t an every once in a while thing.) She was literally forced to grieve alone, in the worst place imaginable, with no one to help her.

She is consistently shown blaming herself for the decisions of other people, because the over-pressured sister and daughter in her will definitely never fully grasp the fact that ITS NOT HER FAULT.

She had to come to terms with the fact that her little sister had chosen to work for and bond with the man that was responsible for the death of their father figure, and even then, after hearing the things Jinx had done, the ways she’d changed, Vi STILL tried to love her, to save her.

She was faced with a choice between her sister, and her (basically) girlfriend, and no matter how much you defend Jinx, or how much trauma she went through, or her lack of emotional maturity, none of that takes away from the pure terror of watching your sister point a gun in the face of someone you love, trying to make you ‘choose’. And then in the same moment, watching your girlfriend point a gun at your sister? Constantly being stuck in the middle of everyone you love?

Almost everyone she has ever loved either died, or completely turned on her, becoming a different person, or just straight up abandoning her.

The difference between her and the other trauma filled children of this series is that she’s not easy to pity like everyone else. She’s actually strong, and hasn’t completely lost her morals or snapped, even after everything she’s been through, so people don’t sympathize with her. She’s the token older sister, overlooked, over relied on, and villainized when she shows any sliver of fragile humanity.

(SORRY FOR MY VI RANT I JUST NEEDED TO GET THAT OUT 😔✊)

[sapphire-writes]

ceilings ~ modern!Aegon x Reader

summary: You and Aegon are friends, but there's always been something between you. This summer, it all comes to a breaking point.

warnings: 18+ (smut, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, kissing, semi-drunk s*x), drinking, partying, angst

word count: 4.8k

note: hi. uh oh. modern Egg angst. I hope you enjoy ❤️

masterlist

In a different world, you and Aegon Targaryen probably wouldn’t have been friends. You were different. He was reckless and careless; you were cautious and calculated. 

If it weren’t for a minor run-in with the law, your paths wouldn’t have crossed at all. Lucky for him, the Targaryen family has a lot of connections. So when Aegon, at the ripe age of 16 decided to rob a liquor store, he was issued a slap on the wrist and community service. 

Which led him straight to you.

Working with you, to be more specific. You had needed a summer job for some much-needed extra cash, and Aegon needed someone to sign off on his community service hours. 

All the staff were your age, and you’d quickly bonded with everyone. Rhaena became one of your closest friends, along with Aegon. You’re not sure how exactly you became friends; most likely he told some tasteless joke you’d scolded him for which in return caused him to say something even raunchier just so you’d keep paying attention to him. 

Aegon Targaryen was nothing if not a negative attention seeker. You’d fallen into that dynamic rather quickly, Aegon poking you, you poking back. It was gentle, playful even. 

In the middle of that summer, after a drunken night at Danny Greyjoys, you’d received a text from Aegon long after the party ended. You’d introduced him to your friend Sara who you brought along, and he’d appeared to hit it off with her. 

Give me Sara’s number, he’d sent, she’s super cute.

You’d rolled your eyes, watching more bubbles appear on the screen.

But also I’ve kind of been in love with you since the beginning of the summer, he wrote. 

Your heart stopped. The bubbles came back—then disappeared. Then came back.

He didn’t send anything else. 

You never talked about it.

In fact, you and Aegon moved on like he’d never sent it. 

It was always hard to say goodbye to him at the end of the summer. While Rhaena and Sara joined you at the local high school, Aegon joined his siblings across the country at Dragonstone Academy. 

But even after Aegon completed his community service, he kept coming back each summer. It wasn’t like he needed the money, his family was well off. He just liked the job, liked the company of his friends. 

Liked you.

You’d dated a few coworkers on and off throughout the years. Cregan Stark, Will Tyrell. But Aegon you’d always seen as a friend. At least that’s what you told yourself. 

Even when you’d accepted your college placements; Aegon at Citadel University, you at Winterfell State, you’d always return to King’s Landing in the summer months. 

You’d always come back to each other. 

Always teetering the line between friends and something else. Holding hands, cuddling, laughing, and joking, but nothing further. 

Just friends. 

Then, months into your junior year of college, Aegon’s dad died. You’d known he was sick for a while, a horrible slow deteriorating sort of death. But it still felt sudden. Like, the family had known he was going to die for so long, they almost forgot. 

He’d been different this summer. More distant. Drinking more. You knew he was grieving still, even if the relationship with his father was strained. Relationships are complicated. And that was still his dad. 

You’d sat in his car one night after work, just talking. He’d been tapping on the steering wheel with one hand, the other near his mouth as he worried the skin around his thumb with his teeth. A nervous habit. 

“You know, you and Hel are the only ones I can talk to,” he’d admitted, referring to you and his sister, “No one else…no one else really understands.”

You’d taken his hand in yours, sitting in comfortable silence as the engine purred and the sky grew darker. 

“I love you, Egg,” you’d told him, as you always did. 

“I love you too,” he said back, the words falling easily from his lips. 

Aegon was due to head back to Citadel University early the following week as summer came to its inevitable end. You’d all be parting ways soon enough, heading back to your college campuses for your final year of school. It was this fact that led Danny Greyjoy to insist on going out for drinks after work. A little hole-in-the-wall pub with darts and pool tables.

“We can go back to mine later,” Aegon had insisted, as you’d ordered another round of drinks, “Mum’s out of town on business.”

“Won’t Aemond mind?” Danny asked.

“He’s visiting his girlfriend,” Aegon insisted, “C’mon let’s get fucked up! Summer’s almost over.”

Danny agreed, shrugging and finishing his drink. Aegon had always been a bit of a party boy, but since the death of his father, you’d noticed an uptick in his recreational substance use. Alcohol; sometimes something harder. He’d shown up to work a few times violently hungover, or perhaps still intoxicated. You really couldn’t tell. 

You worried about him. 

You head to the bathroom to freshen up, fixing your mascara in the mirror when the bathroom door swings open and Aegon pushes inside. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face as he digs in his pocket, pressing his back against the door. You narrow your eyes, attempting to move past him but he blocks your path. 

“Stop it you weirdo,” you joke, laughing at his antics.

“Take this with me, c’mon,” Aegon teases, revealing two nips from his pocket.

“I fucking hate Mcgillicuddy,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at the clear bottle with its bright green label.

“Pussy,” he goads, smiling showing all his perfect teeth. 

Your heart skips a beat, as usual, and you snatch the bottle from him. You narrow your eyes as you crack the seal, before holding it between your teeth as you tilt your head back. The menthol-flavored liquor burns a path down your throat and a feeling of warmth blooms in your chest. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, taking his own and mimicking your movement. 

You cough slightly, watching his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. He discards the empty bottle, reaching for yours. 

“You’re coming to the after-party, right?” he asks, his Cheshire grin still on his face. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “It’s one of my last nights, I’ve barely spent any time with you.”

You smile slightly. Not a complete lie. Aegon spent the better half of the summer chasing Aliandra Martell like a lost puppy. They had a brief, passionate affair that fizzled out rather quickly as she returned to Sunspear the previous week. 

“And who’s fault is that?” you tease, “If you weren’t so preoccupied….”

Aegon lurches forward, grappling at your waist, tickling your side. You squeal, pulling yourself away from his grabbing hands, cheeks burning.  

“Fuck off,” he interrupts, looking at you with more intensity in his violet eyes, “Please come.”

Something in the air crackles between you. A new wave of energy.

“Alright,” you tell him, “For a little bit.”

“You bitch!” Rhaena screams, trampling you in a hug as you arrive at Aegon’s. 

She’s already had a few drinks; dirty Shirley Temples most likely. Rhaena has one hell of a sweet tooth. She smiles, her lips slightly tinged red from the grenadine. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, I thought you wanted to sleep,” she says, only slurring a few words. 

You hold onto her, giggling at her carefree state. Rhaena is usually so poised and collected. 

“Egg made me,” you tell her, “Where is the bastard?”

“Living room!” Rhaena giggles, “You look so cute!”

You glance down at your jeans shorts and the small black top you’d chosen. Going out top, Sara calls it. You’d gone home to change before heading over to the Targaryen-Hightower mansion. 

“Thanks, Rhae,” you tell her, as she places a sticky kiss on your cheek. 

Moving past some people, primarily acquaintances and other coworkers, you make your way into the living room. The music is blasting, people lounging on the couches and sitting on the floor playing some sort of drinking game. A table has been set up, and you spot Jace and Cregan engaged in a game of beer pong. Multicolored lights flash around the room bathing everyone in a kaleidoscope of colors. 

Aegon sits on the couch furthest across the room between two girls; a blonde and a brunette you don’t recognize. They’re curled into him, laughing at something he says. His eyes meet yours from across the room, lighting up as he recognizes you. You walk over, shaking your head at him. So broken up over Aliandra, it seems. You laugh, rolling your eyes before standing in front of him as he reaches for your hand.

He calls your name over the music as his fingers lace through yours. His eyes are red, you’d assumed he’d been drinking more since leaving the bar from the incoherence of his texts to you. Aegon was quite impatient as you went home to change, your phone dinging continuously from his texts. 

“You started without me?” you tease, and he tugs on your arm, pulling you closer. 

Aegon leans forward, pushing his back off of the couch. Your eyebrows cinch together as he pulls you closer, face nearing your own. Heart racing, realizing what is about to happen as your faces come closer; So close you’re able to count each of his silver lashes framing those violet eyes. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” you blurt out, seconds before he does. 

Aegon’s lips are soft and warm, his tongue parts your lips before dipping inside of your mouth. He tastes like vodka, like summer, like…

You pull away, and he lets go of your hand, falling back onto the couch, looking up at you through hooded eyes. The blonde next to him continues talking, as though nothing had happened. Aegon turns to her, smiling and continuing their conversation. 

You’re not breathing; he stole the air from your lungs. You turn on your heel, heading straight to the kitchen. A bottle of tequila is the first thing you see among other various bottles and cups on the counter. You grab the bottle, taking a long swig, not caring who’d drunk from it before you. Your heart is beating erratically against your ribs. 

Aegon just kissed you.

Aegon.

You take another swig before placing it on the counter. 

Holy shit. 

It’s the strangest feeling; like something that was meant to happen finally did. You’re stunned, standing stuck as Aegon enters the kitchen, moving by you and filling his cup with water from the sink. You march over to him as he turns on the faucet.

“Aegon,” you say to him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes,” he says, glancing at you, turning off the faucet.

“You just kissed me,” you tell him.

“Mhmm,” he agrees, placing his cup on the counter, fingers curling along the edge of the sink. He stares forward like he’s contemplating something. How is he not freaking out as much as you are?

“You just kissed….me,” you repeat, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning forward and kissing you again. 

His hand finds your waist, the other cradling your jaw as he deepens the kiss. You kiss him back this time, arching against him, tangling your fingers in his short silver hair. His tongue pushes past your lips and you sigh as it enters your mouth. 

This is Aegon. You’re kissing Aegon. Yet you don’t really want to stop, not when his lips feel so soft and warm molded against your own, his palm moving to your lower back and then over the swell of your ass. 

Then someone enters the kitchen and you pull away from each other quickly, as though someone physically pulled you both apart. It’s Sara and Cregan laughing about something. Cregan spots Aegon and clasps him on the shoulder before pulling him back toward the living room demanding he be his partner in beer pong. 

Sara notices your flushed face and blissed-out, shocked expression. You reach for the tequila bottle again, taking another swig letting it burn trying to get the taste of Aegon out of your mouth. Her eyes narrow suspiciously as she comes closer. 

“Whoa there,” Sara says, holding out her red solo cup, “You okay kid?”

Swallowing the mouthful of tequila you stick your tongue out at your friend.

“Aegon just kissed me.”

“Wait….what?” Sara asks, eyes wide. 

You place the bottle on the counter and remove Sara’s cup before taking both her hands in yours. 

“Aegon. Aegon just kissed me,” you repeat, staring deeply into her eyes. 

“Okay….well,” Sara shuffles from one foot to the other and you frown.

“Well, what?”

“Did you like it?”

Fuck.

“Like it? Sara, he’s like one of my best friends here,” you tell her through a forced chuckle. 

“Oh c’mon. You and Egg have had this tension for years. Like yeah, you’re friends but…friends don’t look at friends the way Aegon looks at you,” she says while reaching for her cup and taking a sip.

Your heart pounds as you think about it. All these years, the harmless flirting. The love confession. That weird feeling in the pit of your stomach every time he was with Ali. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell her, shaking your head. 

“Liar,” she calls you out, “And don’t think I don’t see how you look at him. The whole Ali thing this summer?”

“What?!”

“Girl, you were jealous,” she says, exasperated, “Jealous of her being with Egg.”

Okay, so maybe you had been a little jealous. 

“I mean…I don’t know,” you admit.

“Do not tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Sara tells you, “The boy’s been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“Okay stop,” you tell her, face warming, “I don’t…I don’t know what to do…he’s going through it right now and he’s leaving soon. I just…I don’t think it’s the right time.”

Sara scrunches her nose, making a face. 

“Looks like Egg thinks it is,” she challenges.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth, unable to rid yourself of the feeling of his kiss. 

“Look, whatever happens,” Sara says, reaching out to touch your arm, “I think you should go for it. If that’s what you want.”

That’s always the question, isn’t it? 

What do you want?

There are no more surprise kisses as the night goes on. You play games, drink cheap liquor to get a little buzzed and laugh with your friends. You catch his eye briefly from across the room but nothing more. Helaena arrives at one point with her girlfriend Cerelle, blissfully stoned out of her mind and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek in greeting. 

People filter in and out as the night wears on. Rhaena is in no condition to drive home, and you hate driving home this late. You, Sara, Rhaena, and Cregan all decide to spend the night, fighting over which couch everyone will sleep on. Rhaena curls up on one with Sara, their legs intertwined. 

Cregan mumbles something about taking the floor, offering you the other. 

“Are you sure?” you ask and he nods, scratching the back of his neck, “You’re a gem.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, finding a spot on the floor.

You giggle softly, heading to the kitchen for more water. You hate hangovers and paced yourself rather well this evening, making sure to drink plenty of water between drinks. Your buzz is already fading as you fill your cup. 

You take a big sip, draining it halfway before filling it to the top again. You know you’ll be desperate for water in the morning and want to keep a full glass beside you. Plus, if Rhaena wakes up needing some you can offer her your cup. You shut the faucet, turning around and meeting the eyes of Aegon. Your heart skips a beat. You’d thought he’d gone to bed. 

“Hey,” you tell him, placing your cup on the counter, “Listen…Egg….”

He moves towards you, hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for a heated kiss. You kiss him back and it’s different this time. He tastes like water this time around, his movements less sloppy, more controlled. 

He’s sobered up, you realize as he moans against your mouth. 

Everyone’s gone home. Everyone’s asleep. It’s just you and him. 

He backs up, taking you with him, and dragging you down the hall. His hand laces through yours as he guides you into the hallway and into a room. His room.

The door shuts behind you and you keep kissing him, keep fisting the front of his shirt as he backs up knees hitting the bed and sitting down. 

You straddle his lap easily, as though you’d done it several times before. His hands move to your waist before dropping lower to palm your ass. You roll your hips against him as he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh. 

Your hands loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. This is Aegon. You’re kissing Aegon. Reluctantly, you pull away from his greedy mouth as his hands fall to your jean shorts, unbuttoning them and pulling down your fly.

“Are you sure?” you breathe, nose pressed against his cheek. 

Aegon’s breathing is shallow, one hand still firmly on your ass as he kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“I’ve wanted this since forever,” he admits, sending butterflies fluttering in your belly. 

He waits, not moving his hand; not going any further but also not taking any steps back.

“Me too,” you whisper and he presses his lips to yours once more. 

The kiss is hungry, stoking a fire of need deep in your belly. Aegon’s hand brushes against your lower stomach and the muscles of your abdomen contract as he breaches the band of your underwear. Fingers dipping lower, he circles your clit already wet and sensitive from your heavy makeout.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you manage to squeak as Aegon sinks two fingers into your wet heat, curling them inside you.

He moves his fingers in and out at a torturously slow pace, the heel of his palm grazing against your clit with every thrust. 

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he comments, kissing you once more as you grind down against his hand. 

A whine slips past your lips as his lips move to caress your jaw, before kissing a hot trail down your neck. You can feel his smile against you as he speaks, “Shhh don’t wanna wake anyone, do we?”

He’s cruel with his comment, the pads of his fingers rubbing perfectly against your sweet spot sending sparks of pleasure down your legs all the way to your toes. Your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers causing him to chuckle.

“That feel good?” he asks, kissing right below your ear.

“Yes, feels s’good,” you mumble, fisting his hair harshly. Aegon groans as you ride his fingers, chasing the release building in your abdomen. 

Each curl of his fingers stokes a fire in your belly, and soon you’re trembling on top of him, falling apart as he silences your desperate cries with a kiss. Gently removing his fingers from your slick entrance he flips you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He pulls your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion, tossing them to a corner of the room.

“D’you have a condom?” you ask breathlessly as you yank your tank top over your head. You unclasp your bra as Aegon removes his shirt, his violet eyes hungrily eying your freed breasts. 

You rest back on your elbows as he watches you. “Egg?”

His eyes snap back up to yours before he grips underneath your thighs pulling you toward him, “Sorry, yes, fuck,” he says, kissing your inner thigh, “Have to taste you first, please.”

Your face is on fire but you nod at his pleading as he buries his face in between your thighs. Aegon licks a thick stripe up your drenched slit, swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. You throw your head back against the pillow as he continues to feast on you, alternating between dipping his tongue in your entrance and suckling on your clit. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, “So fucking good Egg shit--” 

He moans against you, fingers digging into your thighs and soon your legs are shaking around his head, trapping him between your thighs as you come with a muffled cry. Aegon crawls back on top of you, kissing you fervently, the taste of you fresh on his tongue. You scratch down his back, pull him as close as you can to you. 

“Condom,” you gasp, feeling the hardness between his legs pressing as you through his jeans, “I need you--”

“Right here,” he says, leaning to his nightstand. He yanks the drawer open so hard, it crashes to the floor with a thud. You both freeze before descending into giggles.

“Shhh,” he cautions and you cover your mouth as your laughter continues, “Seven hells--” he reaches to the floor retrieving a condom. 

“Stop it,” he says with a smile, removing your hand to kiss you again.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, trying to hold in your laughter. 

Aegon slips his jeans down, followed quickly by his boxers freeing his long, hard cock. The tip is flushed pink, weeping precum as he lazily strokes himself. You wet your lips as he tears open the condom wrapper, rolling it down his generous length. Once he’s done, you’re quick to pull him back into a kiss, feeling his heavy cock slap against your inner thigh. 

“You’re sure?” you ask again, and Aegon nods.

“I’m sure,” he confirms, “Fuck, are���are you?”

“Yes,” you tell him, reaching to guide him toward your aching center, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He sinks inside your tight, waiting pussy and you gasp at the way he stretches you out. You’re so tight around him, it’s nearly painful for a moment as you adjust to his girth. 

“Fuck,” you hiss as he bottoms out, “Seven….”

“You okay?” he mumbles, placing a wet kiss on your neck.

“I’m good,” you confirm, fire blazing in your belly as he rolls his hips against you, stealing the breath from your lungs, “Gods…”

Aegon keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, you can feel his hot breath against your skin in between the kisses and love bites he adorns you with. Every rock of his hips winds the coil in your gut tighter and tighter until you feel as though you’re a bowstring about to snap. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he murmurs, “Want you to come again, baby, c’mon.”

Nails digging into his shoulders you’re thrown over the edge, the coil in your gut snapping as white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your pussy clenches, milking his cock for all its worth as you feel him twitch inside of you; Aegon moans as he reaches his own release. 

You hold onto him for a moment, letting yourself bask in the pleasure he’s given you, feeling the weight of him resting on top of you, his softening cock still buried within you. Slowly, the tingling sensation of your orgasm begins to ebb, the sheen of sweat that coats your body causes you to shiver as you grow cold. Aegon rolls off of you, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He runs a hand through his hair, back still facing you. 

You sit up, watching him, suddenly feeling very exposed in your naked state. Aegon removes the condom, ties it, and throws it in the trash can beside his bed. Then he reaches for a pair of shorts. Heat blooms in your cheeks as you rise, searching for your clothes. 

Aegon doesn’t say anything, just watches you out of the corner of his eye. You grab your bra and shirt first, throwing them back on. Panic rises in your throat suddenly at what’s just happened. 

Oh gods.

You’ve ruined everything, haven’t you?

Why isn’t he saying anything? Aegon stands, running a hand through his hair.

“We’re okay, right?” you nervously ask as you slip your shorts and underwear back on, “This won’t change anything, right?”

You can’t read his expression. He gives you a wry grin before nodding. 

“Course not,” he says, grabbing your hand, “C’mere.”

He pulls you gently toward the bed. You curl up next to him, his arm underneath your head. He falls asleep first, you can hear his gentle snoring in your ear. You can’t sleep. You just stare up at the ceiling counting each inhale and exhale. 

“Aegon?” you whisper, turning your head.

He doesn’t answer, still lost in sleep, and you’re left staring at the ceiling once more. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Sara says the following morning. 

You’d gone with Rhaena and Sara for breakfast, leaving the others behind. You had gotten up, returning to the living room before everyone else woke up. Cregan was the only one awake, eyes narrowing as you lay on the couch. 

“Could’ve slept there,” he’d mumbled, before rolling over. 

Rhaena is slumped over her eggs, rubbing her temples as Sara excitedly shouts as you reveal what happened. 

“I’m serious,” you tell them.

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah, it was good,” you confirm.

“What does this mean?” Rhaena asks with a groan, “Fuck I think I’m gonna be sick..”

“I mean, I think I need to talk to him,” you admit, “About…this.”

“Well, I have to go back to the house anyway to pick up Cregan,” Sara says, lacing her fingers together, “Come with and you can talk to him.”

Nervous anticipation pools in your belly.

“Okay,” you tell her.

After dropping Rhaena at home, you and Sara head back to the Targaryen mansion. It’s quiet when you arrive, walking in the door like you both live there. Helaena and Cerelle are curled up on the couch watching a movie. 

“My brother still here?” Sara asks and Helaena raises her head from Cerelle’s lap.

“Mhmm, they’re in the pool,” she confirms, “Aegon tried to host a darty, not many people showed up yet though.”

“Of course he did,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Sara nods to you and you follow her to the back door. The Targaryen backyard is a prime party zone, with its waterfall pool, large stone patio, and massive green yard. You spot Cregan right away, tossing a cursing Aly Blackwood into the pool. 

Your eyes scan over the dozen people before your heart drops into your stomach. Aegon’s in the pool as well, silver hair slicked back, a lopsided smile on his face. That’s not what makes your heart lurch, rather it's who is attached to him. 

Cassandra Baratheon clad in a deep blue string bikini straddles his waist, playing with the sunglasses on his head. She takes them off, putting them on her own face before Aegon lifts her up, setting her on the edge of the pool. She giggles, hands on his shoulders before giving the sunglasses back. Aegon squeezes her thighs, no doubt leaving indentations of his fingers on her porcelain skin. 

“Oh fuck,” Sara whispers, “Y/N…”

“What?” you ask, tearing your gaze away, “What? No…no it's fine… that's nothing. I’m good.”

Sara’s eyes are sad, “Honey…”

“Seriously, Sara, I’m good,” you insist, chest tight with emotion, “I’m just going to grab a water…”

“Give me five minutes,” Sara tells you, “Let me tell Cregan I’m taking you home.”

You give her a wordless nod as she moves toward her brother. You walk past the pool over to a cooler, grabbing water. The sun suddenly feels uncomfortably warm, a dull throbbing beginning behind your eyes. 

Someone comes up next to you, reaching into the cooler. Aegon shakes his head, droplets of water flying this way and that. You stare at him, watching as he grabs a can of beer. He glances at you after cracking the can and taking a long sip. 

“What?” he says. It’s friendly but different. There’s a new edge underneath the question.

Nothing will change, right?

Your throat tightens and you can feel tears prickling behind your eyes. Aegon just stares back, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Nothing,” you tell him, “I was just leaving.”

“You should stay for the party,” he suggests casually. 

You gaze at him, searching his violet eyes for anything, anything at all. 

“I’m tired,” you admit, “I’ll see you later.”

Aegon watches you leave, Sara wrapping her arm around your shoulders. There’s a moment of pause as the door closes behind you, and then Aegon finishes his drink and returns to the pool.

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[ominous-horse-noises]

im ab to be annoying ab dimension20 fhjy but im genuinely loving the character arcs for the bad kids this season?

kristen going from self-annihilatingly stupid to trying to build a genuine bridge with the man who not only wielded the religion that traumatised her (bobby dawn), but also was trying to ruin her life, just bc she thought a grieving father ought to be comforted in some way? her genuine distress at being unable to revivify buddy even though the two had only had negative interactions, or her biting her tongue in front of her parents so she could better look after her little siblings? grappling with the fact that she still, on some level, expected practising religion to be easy and convenient for her as a holdover from an entire childhood spent being a Chosen One, and finally putting her nose to the grindstone and committing to working her ass off for a deity that couldn't even benefit her for a hot minute? making an effort to be cordial with tracker's new gf and letting go of that codependency? the kristen applebees from ep20 would NOT do all the same stupid shit as ep1 and i love that.

fabian being humbled by the narrative again and again has been an absolute treat for his character. the whole ivy/mazey situation was great: freshman/sophomore year fabian would've gone for ivy no sweat, i mean her character seemed pretty similar to pre-redemption aelwyn and he had a huge crush on her then. but this time, when he realised he'd hurt a genuinely great person, and intentionally swallowed his pride to make it up to mazey, even though it required him being 'uncool' with the whole twister thing. his general arc of learning that earnestness and humility doesn't make him less of a man felt like a natural extension of fabian defining his own version of masculinity- sure, a 'maximum legend', but also someone deeply involved in the arts, and someone who is less afraid of saying sorry and being vulnerable in front of someone he likes

fig. fig fig fig. what a woman. its been absolutely fascinating watching build her sense of identity over these three seasons. at her core, fig is a character that loves so deeply. in freshman, she was terrified of the depth of her own devotion, so she tried to distance herself emotionally from everyone. in sophomore, she built herself around that love for other people. in junior year, fig's arc has been learning she can do both: that she's defined by her love for others, but not solely by it. ik emily wanted to retire the character before this season but i think fig's paladin arc was the best capstone to her journey possible.

gorgug's arc has been about establishing clear boundaries for himself and i love it. im aware there's been some Discourse ab the mango soda scene but to me that was pretty easily chalked up to teenage insecurity. a big part of gorgug's arc was trying to believe in himself when everyone around him told him he was too dumb to follow his passion- imagine struggling in an area that you have no natural aptitude for, and someone comes along and also trounces you in the one area you thought you were the best in. i'd be petty and reactive too (gorgug follows up calling her a freak with the fact that she beat the shit out of him, so its clearly him just still smarting from a bruised ego and not actual malice). in general, i've really like gorgug learning to put his foot down and say enough is enough without completely losing his gentleness.

adaine hasnt had an obvious arc, but considering she addressed most of her baggage in the first two seasons, i'm not surprised. i would've liked to see the other bad kids address her 'teenage adult' behaviour, but her self-awareness about it and relying on fabian to pull in clutch for the oracool stuff still felt like she'd learned to rely on her friends at least + her reaching out to aelwyn and the two of them healing from their parents together has been rewarding it its own right.

riz is perfect and has learned nothing. his neuroticism is part of his natural swag

[anneapocalypse]

On the role of outsiders.

One thing I think makes the Scions' relationship with Wuk Lamat unique isn't that they're mentoring her--I don't really see it as a mentor relationship and for various reasons I think it's better for it not to be that--but that, as outsiders, she finds that she can show vulnerability with them that she's only rarely been able to show with anyone else.

When we meet Wuk Lamat in 6.55, it's pretty heavily telegraphed that she's posturing a lot to cover up some personal weaknesses or insecurities. This made me really curious about her, who she was and what that overconfident demeanor was covering for. And when I got into Dawntrail and started getting to know her, I wasn't disappointed.

(No Wuk Lamat hate on this post, please. Any responses clearly trying to pick a fight will be removed and blocked without reply.)

Wuk Lamat has a couple of foils in this story, but a big one is Sphene, and I love @unmovingtroika's description of Sphene as "unpersoned to an extreme degree." And as a distorted mirror of our main character, Sphene reminds us that any person in a position of authority or heroism is depersonalized to some degree, no matter how down-to-earth or benevolent.

Gulool Ja Ja is really presented to us as very much a people's ruler, the charismatic blessed siblings who united the peoples of Tural through curiosity and open-mindedness and understanding. And that may be largely true, but it's also made of him a myth, a legend inscribed in stone and memory. Meanwhile in the course of Dawntrail's story we also meet the real person Gulool Ja Ja... at least, the one who's left. The man who has spent three years grieving his brother, his ever-present companion, the Reason to his Resolve, a man who for the sake of political stability has had to hide his grief and loneliness from even his own children, as he does his best to carry out the work they had begun together, and complete the Rite of Succession in his brother's absence. And if there are places where Gulool Ja Ja failed to foresee the potential negative outcomes to the Rite, like Bakool Ja Ja's actions endangering his people, we might see there in hindsight the Head of Reason's absence in the final stages of the Rite's preparation. And we see, in some of Zoraal Ja's anger and resentment and insecurity, a glimpse of the ways in which the people's Dawnservant might have failed his own son.

One of Wuk Lamat's early growth moments is when the Scions convince her that she doesn't need to try and hide her obvious seasickness--an affliction she can't help, and which represents no failure of character on her part but which is, well, embarrassing. I love that she seems to particularly connect with Alisaie, who's had her own experiences of feeling inadequate next to her sibling, and feeling the need to prove herself on her own terms.

Could Wuk Lamat have been convinced to drop the act by her allies if they weren't outsiders? The problem is that everyone else in Tural, even her own siblings, are the people she'll have authority over if she wins. Erenville frequently rolls his eyes at his old friend's posturing, and fairly so, but Wuk Lamat doesn't behave that way just because she's insecure. In the same way that her father has had to conceal the death of his brother even from his own children, Wuk Lamat recognizes the danger of showing weakness before the people she will have to rule--especially when she's already aware of her reputation as being less qualified than her brothers. But these outsiders from Eorzea are different. They're allies who will never be her subjects. In private moments, she can be a person with them. She can be vulnerable. She can be Lamaty'í.

(Incidentally, I think this is also why I found Sphene calling her Lamaty'i so unsettling. Initially it seems like a simple misunderstanding, an outsider mistaking a very personal nickname for someone's "public" name. But in the hindsight of what we learn about Sphene, I think it feels a lot worse. Sphene is, consciously or unconsciously, pushing past the walls of formality and reticence that necessarily exist around a ruler when interacting with most people--nevermind a foreign head of state whose intentions are unknown. She's positioning herself as a friend when she is not.)

As the story progresses, we learn the Wuk Lamat and Koana have always been close. Now, in the Rite of Succession, they must treat one another as rivals and can no longer share confidences--at least, at first. Koana's love and protectiveness of his sister emerges with a vengeance when Wuk Lamat is in danger--and I'd venture a guess that he, too, feels safer showing this sudden vulnerability before his allies and those of his sister, because again, they will never be his subjects. While we get only briefer glimpses of Koana's journey with Thancred and Urianger, I'd guess that their friendship has affected him in similar ways.

One of the benefits of blessed siblings is that they are never alone. They bring two perspectives to any situation, but they also have one another to confide in, to understand, to commiserate over the burdens of leadership in a way they can't with anyone else, not even family. Wuk Lamat and Koana taking on the role of Dawnservant together brings the benefit of their very different strengths and perspectives to their people. But it also means that neither must take on those burdens alone. When their allies depart, they will still have one another. There will always be someone at their side with whom they can just be a person.

The tragedy of Zoraal Ja is that he's evidently never had that kind of relationship with anyone. The myth of his seemingly miraculous birth has depersonalized him from the very start. All his life, he has carried the burden of living up to the expectations of the Resilient Son, and has never enjoyed the close relationship his brother and sister have with one another. To the very last, he attempts to live up to the legend alone--and he fails.

One of the biggest themes throughout Final Fantasy XIV is standing together. There is strength in companionship and cooperation, but for that strength to flourish, there must also be trust and vulnerability. Wuk Lamat and Koana ultimately find that in one another, as siblings and co-rulers, but the Scions play the important role of offering them an outsider's friendship in their journeys when they are cut off from one another, and would otherwise be alone. As Ketenramm and Galuf Baldesion once were to Gulool Ja Ja, the Scions to Wuk Lamat and Koana are neither mentors nor subjects, but companions and friends.

[your-regular-toast-enjoyer]

Yandere! Batfam x Reader

Batfam x reader or Batfam/reader

Yandere Batfam x reader or Yandere Batfam/reader

Word count: 8639 words

TW: GN reader, adult Damian Wayne, mentions drugs, yandere, neglect, angst and kidnapping.

You were Bruce’s youngest child, a year younger than Damian and several years younger than the rest. You were simply the result of a hookup on one of Bruce’s many business trips, it might’ve been to Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia or even just somewhere else in America. The point is, you didn’t grow up in Gotham until the age of thirteen when your mother died in a violent car crash, one in which you had also been involved. 

You had sat for hours in the backseat, slowly seeing your mother’s life drain from her eyes as the fire brigade did their best to cut their way into the car. It had all been for nought though, with her dying before the paramedics even arrived. You were physically fine except for some deep cuts and bruises, but your mother’s abdomen had been pierced as a drunk driver of a flatbed lorry carrying steel poles had backed violently into your car, sending the metal sticks flying straight towards your vehicle. One of the poles had gone through the window and hit your mother. It was a gruesome sight, so vile that you threw up several times as you were hauled out of the wreck.

Legally, you were supposed to go to your father, even if your mother’s parents, possible siblings or someone else were willing to take you, the law demanded that it’d be your father who took you. Bruce had signed your birth certificate, he wasn’t unaware of your existence, and he had since your birth sent monthly child support to your mother, but that was all you really were to him up until that point; A negligible extra expense. 

It wasn’t that Bruce disliked you when you came to the manor. You were simply a scared kid who had just lost their mother and was deeply grieving. He had dealt with plenty of those. He had just been busy… He obviously had his obligations as Bruce Wayne: CEO duties, public image and bundles of paperwork, but it was more so his obligations as Batman and to his other children, which pulled him away from you when you first came into his home. Damian, especially, took up most of his time. Not only did the two of them constantly train for protecting the city, thus developing a closer bond than you’d ever have with either of them, but Bruce was also very aware of how Damian’s childhood at the league weighed down on him mentally, so, he kept him close, let him vent his frustrations and slowly but surely get over his trauma. 

 From the very beginning, you became the forgotten child:

Dick was always so focused on Damian, singing his praises and always taking care of him. He usually forgot to even greet you whenever he visited the manor for a week or two, often going “Oh! I haven’t seen you all this time! Well, bye to you too Y/n”, whenever he left. Whenever the oldest brother was visiting, you’d stand in the doorway to the living room, observing with stinging eyes as he embraced Damian like the boy mattered more than the entire world. You had forgotten how it felt to actually matter that much to someone. You wondered if you ever had. Why you tortured yourself with watching the two, you didn’t know, perhaps because you longed to be in Damian’s position? You weren’t even sure yourself. The reason probably didn’t matter, as your forced your eyes to stay on the two, only leaving when you could feel silent tears run down your cheeks. 

Jason was the friendliest, not particularly caring for Damian and Bruce either, often calling the green-eyed boy “Demonspawn”, which you’d laugh loudly at, only to be sent to your room by Bruce for upsetting Damian. Jason understood though, usually going to your room to hang out with you and listen to your stories, unlike everyone else. He came to adore you. Damian might’ve been Dick’s favourite sibling, but you were Jason’s. Since Damian was called “Babybird”, Jason called you “Tiny tweet”, even though you didn’t hold the title of Robin. You loved the times when Jason was there, he made you finally feel understood and heard. Unfortunately, Jason was at the manor even less than Dick, (who spent 90% of his time in Blüdhaven), since he couldn’t stand the sight of Bruce for longer than an hour every other month. So, the brief moments of reprieve the second oldest offered were few and far between, still leaving you isolated most of the time.

Tim barely spared you a glance, too busy with his own school, vigilantism and friends. He appreciated that you weren’t annoying like Damian, who’d constantly attack him, thus automatically bringing you above the little devil on Tim’s tier list of family members… however, Damian was at the very bottom, which didn’t make it a great achievement. If you ever tried to converse with Tim, he’d dismiss you with a wave of his long bony hand, telling you to find someone else to chit-chat with. You stopped your attempts at befriending the middle child after a handful of unsuccessful tries, barely seeing him after that. As a matter of fact, whenever you tried to visualise a picture of Tim, it was the image of his slim dismissive hand which appeared. You had forgotten if his hair was black or dark brown, if his eyes were light blue or grey or if his nose had a bump or not. He bordered on becoming a personal myth to you; You knew he existed in a far-off world, but he wasn’t within your orbit.

Damian was at first fearful that you’d take his place, bullying you, physically harassing you and bringing up your mother until you were left wailing on the floor. When you told Bruce though he’d always tell you to, “Be the bigger person, Damian has been through a lot”. You wished you could have fought against your youngest brother, but not only was he older and stronger than you, but he was also a trained assassin and vigilante. You stood no chance. When Damian realised that you were no threat to his position, he left you alone, avoiding talking to you and interacting with you on the basis that you simply didn’t matter to him. He had actually once accidentally told a teacher that he only had three siblings, not realising that he had forgotten about you until he was on his way home, replaying the conversation in his head. Damian might’ve once tried to become closer to you after Alfred had given him a long spiel about how “family is important”, but quickly realised that you trusted him less than the thieves in Crime Alley, and so he abandoned the idea.

Bruce didn’t mean to ignore you, it was purely accidental, but he had on multiple occasions forgotten your birthday and even once failed to remember buying you any Christmas presents, leaving you as the only Wayne child with no gifts that year, to which you had simply muttered something along the lines of, “Of course”, not in a vengeful or angry way, instead in a resigned and understanding tone, before going back to your room that night and not leaving until a day or two later. Alfred had scolded him for that occurrence, there wasn’t really anything he could’ve said in his defence and even Dick had looked at him with disgust as they all took in the image of you standing there, alone, surrounded by gifts that weren’t for you. It had been a striking visual, yet not enough to make Bruce change his ways. It wasn’t that he held any animosity towards you, you were simply just air to him, he had no idea where you were at any given time or who you were, sometimes he even forgot your face.

Alfred was a kind man, an understanding man. However, just like Bruce, he also had others to worry about, and the more isolated you became in your behaviour, the less able he was to spend time with you. Not only that, but he also refused to hear you talk badly of any of your brothers, and even Bruce was off the table if you felt like complaining. Alfred was a sweet and patient man, but to you it felt as if he had lost the plot, as if he didn’t understand how badly you were treated, because his love for the others blinded him, making him an unfortunate enabler of your torment. Alfred was only really good for giving you a biscuit/cookie when you sat in the kitchen, apathetically staring into a wall, for venting your frustrations, however? He was useless.

Your father neglected to handle your trauma. However, somehow, in his messed up brain, he reasoned that any trauma which was vigilante-related could somehow be considered worse as it was on a much larger scale than a single individual losing their mother. This made you grow resentful of both Damian and your father, the careful way Bruce would adapt everything to fit Damian’s wants and needs, disregarding yours, slowly lit a fire within you, a fire which burned with hatred towards them both.

I could see you wanting to join the vigilante life when you’re perhaps fifteen. You had watched the others train for years and would often sneak into the bat cave after dark to train yourself. You were good, really good, so you decided that you might as well start doing actual vigilante work. You did realise that you hadn’t quite reached a fighting level where that’d be a good idea, so you decided to find a more seasoned mentor. A slight detail, which would become important. Your father didn’t have the time to teach you. So who did you call up? That’s right! Jason.

 Jason was reluctant to take you under his wing, at first. He even came to the manor to convince you that vigilantism wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. However, after pouring your bleeding heart out to the only brother who cared, he accepted, still apprehensive though.

Jason started his training from the top, getting into the basics swiftly. You got it down faster than he had at first thought, being an astoundingly quick-learner, something which the red-masked vigilante attributed to having Wayne blood in your veins. After locking down all the groundwork within a year or so, it was time to start your specialisation; Choice of weapons, fighting style and general tactics were all next. While training with Jason, you slowly moved into the spare room in his apartment. It wasn’t like you had a bunch of things to move, but what little you had, Jason helped transport from the manor to his primary safehouse.

When Jason considered you ready, you started working as his shadow sidekick. Never known by the vigilante community at large, but definitely a secret menace to Gotham’s criminals. Jason did a good job of keeping your vigilantism a secret After your first three years of training, you completely stopped visiting the manor, even on holidays. You were technically a legal adult now and felt no obligation to stick around a house whose inhabitants had made it clear that you were unwelcome.

No one except Alfred knew that you had completely left for the first long while, with him being the only one you had bid farewell to. The old butler refused to tell Bruce until the man noticed himself. That day would come approximately four months after you stopped coming to the manor, on Christmas eve:

Damian had been the one to notice your absence secondly, after Alfred. He commented on it during the Christmas family dinner, one which Bruce only held for his sons' sakes, and where the only two not attending were Jason and you. Even Dick was there, on a visit from Blüdhaven, spry and jolly around his favourite younger sibling. Damian. 

“Where’s L/N?” The green-eyed man had questioned loudly. Silence followed. Bruce took a look around, you weren’t there. They all knew that Jason wouldn’t be attending, he had declined Bruce’s requests every year since his resurrection, instead opting to go to Roy’s place. A lump formed in Bruce’s throat, yet he didn’t know why. “Damian, can you go get them down? They probably didn’t hear that dinner was served”, Dick requested kindly with a smile on his lips. The man in question would’ve usually complained, but since it was his eldest brother who asked, he got up wordlessly. Conversation at the table resumed, with Alfred biting his lips in contemplation. ‘Should he have informed Bruce of your absence, even though he knew you were at Jason’s?’ ‘Perhaps’, he concluded, deciding to keep silent about the whole matter, it was unfair to you. You had moved on, and even if he missed you terribly, it was not his place to demand your return. A piercing “What!” Stopped all the chatter at the table. Damian came barrelling back into the dining room, grabbing the side of the door with a tight knuckle to stabilise himself. “Their room is completely empty! All their stuff is gone! The only things left are the bed and closet!” 

Bruce had stood up immediately, his chair colliding with the ground behind him as he brushed by Damian, entering your room, his son had been right. Your room was empty. None of the posters you had brought with you from your life with your mother, no papers lying scattered around and no other signs of use. As Bruce looked closer at the remaining furniture, he found that a thick layer of dust coated every surface. The room was as empty as when you arrived as a child and something in Bruce’s stomach dropped. “Y/n!” He called out. No reply. Soon, the entire manor was looking for you, even Alfred pretended to do so as well, his guilt of knowing eating him up from the inside. None of them found you, you had vanished without a trace.

 Somehow, your perceived disappearance became the thing to snap your family’s collective consciousness. All hyped up by each other’s worry and driven into a frenzy. Bruce believed that you had gotten kidnapped or ran away, and it scared him. The thought of his negligence having brought you to extremes was like a spear through his heart, switching something on in his brain. He ordered his available sons to scour the entire city of Gotham to find you, completely forgetting about Christmas and leaving only Alfred behind to stay at the manor, in case you returned on your own. Bruce also ensured that most rooms in the manor were lit, like a lighthouse showing you home. Meanwhile, you and Jason were celebrating the holidays at Roy’s place in Star City, oblivious to what was taking place in all the major cities. You were playing with Lian as the two men chatted about old times and the poor quality of the beer they were drinking; Roy had let you two stay for a few days, so Jason could properly enjoy the festivities without thinking of his alcohol percentage as he was the designated driver. None of you had any idea of the ruckus going on only a few cities away.

It was after this Christmas that the family changed irreversibly. Suddenly, your safety became their top priority. Spear-headed by Bruce, who had a borderline existential crisis as he believed there was an equal chance of you being dead in a ditch somewhere and you being tortured by some rogue. Bruce was overtaken by guilt and challenged this feeling into pure rage as he beat up henchmen and rogues within an inch of their lives, believing them to have somehow connected you to Batman. They hadn’t and were entirely unaware of why the bat was so obsessed with this one person. Were you perhaps vital in an ongoing detective case? Or did Bruce Wayne tip him off to be extra vigilant when finding his youngest? They had no clue.

Well, obviously, Christmas was ruined. When all of the batboys and their father returned home empty-handed, they were in no mood for celebrations. Tim simply sat in a chair, lamenting, as he stared into a wall with something akin to resignation, running calculations in his head of where you could have possibly gone, before heading for the cave to view the security footage as far back as he had stored. Bruce and Damian refused to simply stop looking for the night, not staying long at the manor before they started searching other cities, making some of their vigilante friends aware of the situation. After staying in the nearest bathroom, and regaining control of his emotions, Dick joined his youngest brother and father in their quest for searching other cities. Bruce went to Metropolis, Damian to Central City and Dick to Blüdhaven. They had planned that they would each scour a city tonight and one the night after, it would be impossible to find you during the day, as there were way too many people wandering the streets. Alfred still remained silent, he didn’t think it was fair of them to bring you back, not with the way they had treated you and not when you had clearly left of your own volition.

Bruce had informed his closest friend, Clark Kent, of your disappearance, with the alien immediately insisting on aiding in the search. “It’ll be quicker if we both look at the same time!” Clark had yelled determined through the phone, his southern drawl helping to calm Bruce’s nerves, if only slightly. That was how not only Batman but also Superman started patrolling the streets of Metropolis, in search of a single person, you. Jon too wanted to aid in the search and offered Damian to take over looking in Central city, so he could look somewhere else instead, thus covering more ground, Damian agreed and went to Coast city. 

As the news spread to the citizens of these cities that the Supers and the Bats had teamed up to look for one of Bruce Wayne’s missing kids, it became the talk of everyone’s dinner tables. News channels ran multiple stories about it, despite it being Christmas, being hyped up in no small part thanks to Lois Lane, whose heart went out to the Waynes for losing someone so close to them. The story had slowly morphed from you having run away voluntarily, to you having been kidnapped as a ransom. Everyone who heard of your story believed it to be a tragedy committed by someone who couldn’t even hold up the sanctity of the holiday spirits.

Back at home, Tim reviewed all of the security footage and went as far back as four months, that was when he saw you exit the manor with multiple boxes in your arms, loading them into a red lorry. He kept looking at you walking back and forth for a while until a well-known presence stepped out of the vehicle. Jason. Tim stood still, you hadn’t just moved out of the manor, you had moved in with Jason. You had moved in with the second oldest brother, and neither of you had bothered to inform anyone! Tim seethed, he wasn’t mad at you, no, he could never be. But Jason, the mere thought of him now made Tim’s blood boil. He believed that his brother had borderline kidnapped you away from them. His ire intensified when he saw Jason enter the manor and come out with more of your stuff packed into boxes. That was enough evidence for Tim to conclude that Jason must’ve forced you to move out, that it really hadn’t been your choice at all… Skillfully ignoring how none of the people in the manor had ever given you a reason to stay, let alone noticed that you had been gone for over four months. 

However, knowing that you were with Jason made him able to conclude that you were likely in one of his safehouses or spending your Christmas with his best friend Roy, those two were inseparable, after all. He decided that he would look through Jason’s safe houses, then he called up Damian, “Go to Roy Harper’s place and look for Y/n. They’re with Jason.” Tim’s voice was dark, foreboding and it even made Damian’s hairs stand straight. Truly the stuff of nightmares. Tim explained the situation to both Dick and Bruce afterwards, as he glided through the air from safe house to safe house. Letting the two know that he had sent Damian after you and that they could come home now. Even if Tim currently held the desire to puncture Jason’s lungs for taking you away from them… away from him, he knew his older brother would never let anything happen to you. You were weak in his mind, and in the rest of the family’s mind too. Perhaps they would’ve worried less if they knew of your vigilante training… or maybe not. Vigilantism is dangerous, after all.

When Roy had turned on the TV briefly, you had all been bombarded with news of your disappearance. Your apathetic face from your last high school photo was plastered on every news network, big and small. News of an all-out search party with multiple vigilantes involved was outlined in great detail. Both Jason and you looked at each other with a mix of concern and confusion. It had been four months since you had last been at the manor, Alfred knew of your departure, what were they doing?! Lian had thankfully been put to bed, none of you wanted her to view the panic that crossed all three of your faces. “What the heck are they up to?” Roy questioned no one in particular. “It’s probably a façade, someone might have noticed that ‘Bruce Wayne’ was down one child and now he needs to find me to assure them that I’m not dead. It wouldn’t be a good look to have multiple children die in your custody. No offence Jay”, you postulated, it was a far reach but still the best explanation you could come up with. Jason had agreed with your assessment, giving you a light smack to the back of your head for mentioning his death. He wasn’t mad, but he always joked that it was a sensitive subject.

The three of you tried to come up with solutions to the problem at hand when you were interrupted by an impatient knock on the door. “I’ll get it”, Roy muttered. Making his way out of the living room, where you had previously stood, and towards the entrance. The moment he turned the lock, the door was swung open by whoever was on the other side, the wooden frame just barely missing Roy’s face. Heavy footsteps made their way towards the living room. Roy barely had the time to realise who it was before they were gone, striding towards where you were. 

“Damian?!” You exclaimed, confused. The green-eyed man stood in front of both Jason and you, wearing his full Robin costume. You wondered how he had gotten here so quickly, the news mentioned how he’d been to both Central City and Coast City, both were relatively far away from your current location. “I’ve come to take you home, Y/n. We have been worried for your safety and I see that Todd took full advantage of your little outburst.” Damian’s voice was spiteful, Tim had managed to fuel his ever-latent anger and direct it towards Jason. You tried to rebuke your youngest brother, but Jason stepped in front of you, ready to defend you against the green-eyed menace, “As if! They’re not going back with you, just to end up being ignored by everyone again! Just because Bruce needs his public image to be clean, doesn’t make it their problem! So run along, Demonspawn!”  Damian did not take well to refusal, let alone Jason’s uncalled-for name-calling. 

Damian marched past the taller man and straight towards you. As he tried to grab your forearm, he was thwarted as you defended yourself, blocking his arm and throwing him to the ground. Damian was shocked and Jason was grinning like a proud father. Roy came strolling in at the same time, having checked on Lian’s safety, no problems there. “What did you teach them?!” Damian screamed at Jason, blaming him for your newfound strength. “Everything, they’re a vigilante. I’m not gonna send them out on the streets without knowing how to defend themselves.” The second oldest brother swung an arm around your shoulders as you stood still, giving Damian a look that promised nothing good. 

Well, this was unacceptable to Damian, who had silently called for reinforcement, filming your entire interaction so far on a gadget connected to his chest plate. When Bruce heard Jason’s words, he felt yet another stone sink to the bottom of his abdomen, he had let you become a vigilante, his little Y/n… No, this would not do. All of them agreed on this. Once they had you again, they all decided that anything vigilante-related would be kept out of your reach. While both Dick and Bruce were flattered that you’d share a career path with them, they could not accept the danger it brought you in.

It didn’t take long for Damian’s request to be honoured, as Bruce and the boys took a zeta tube to Star City and immediately went to Roy’s. It took no more than twenty minutes, with Damian engaging in a violent screaming match with Jason, accusing him of kidnapping you, of forcing you to play his mock Robin just to spite your shared father and of many more heinous crimes, which the green-eyed man covered your ears for, despite your attempts to get him to stop touching you. When a barrage of impatient knocks sounded on Roy’s door for the second time, he didn’t open it. Instead, he opted for locking Lian’s bedroom door and grabbing his bow as well as a handful of arrows, which he had reverse-engineered from Oliver’s original ones, aiming one at the entrance. 

Of course, none of the dark-haired men on the other side waited for Roy to feel charitable enough to invite them into his home, as Dick harshly kicked the door in, wooden splinters spreading across the entrance hall’s floor. “What the hell are you doing in my home!” Roy screamed, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Lian. His bow was still pulled tight, an arrow aimed at the newcomers as a threat to not tread further into his flat. “Calm down, speedy. I will replace your door. I’m here to bring my youngest home”, Bruce muttered as he tried to enter the living room, only to be stopped by an arrow flying just past his nose. “Do not take another step. You are intruders”, Roy seethed, orange strands of hair swaying in the air as he made his way in front of the bat trio of Dick, Tim and Bruce.

Bruce was almost surprised by Roy's violent reaction. Almost. He was obviously quite aware of the redhead’s close bond with his second oldest, who had in turn evidently been closer to you than he had ever thought. You had moved in together, after all. Bruce did not blame Jason like Damian and Tim, instead, he simply saw it as an accentuation of his own failings as a father. Still, it was a very serious action to threaten the Batman, the very implications of which stunted both Bruce and Tim for just a moment. Dick wasn’t, however, immediately turning on his trusted secret weapon, skilful manipulation. 

With slow steps, Dick managed to get right in front of the archer, putting a caring hand on his shoulder. “Roy. Surely, as a father, you of all people must understand why Bruce wants his child back. Y/n and he needs to mend their relationship. For Y/n. Imagine how they’ll feel years in the future when they have no father to turn to? They have the chance to get a real security net, something which I know you always wanted at their age. Surely, you must realise that just you and Jason can’t be enough… Not to go into too much detail, but the two of you haven’t been known to be the most… how would you put it… reliable? Stable? …clean?”  Dick’s mention of Roy’s former substance problems broke his initial apprehension. Between Jason, you and him, it was a topic that was never mentioned, it brought back doubts and was probably his second biggest insecurity, his biggest one being… “Imagine if Y/n was Lian? You would want her to have a father, wouldn’t you? Of course, you do! That’s why you stayed. Y/n needs a father too, and not just that they need all of their brothers at their side, Jason can’t stand in for a father. Surely, you would know.” Dick continued. It was a dirty trick to mention Lian, but it worked as Roy lowered his bow, stepping aside for the Waynes to enter the room where Damian and Jason were currently in a screaming match.

Once Jason saw his other brothers and Bruce, he ripped you away from Damian and tried to push past them, holding your hand protectively and tight. It didn’t work, however, as Tim was quick to stun his older brother with a taser, right after Dick had tugged you securely into his latex-covered chest. You didn’t quite know what happened after that, Dick pried your lips and teeth apart, dropping a little round tablet on your tongue, before immediately shifting his hand to cover both your mouth and nose. Shifting the pill around in your mouth to not swallow it, while you tried to kick him away, did absolutely nothing. Dick was stronger and a greater fighter than you’d ever be, your attempts at resistance were little more to Dick than a cat scratching his arms. The blue-eyed man held you close with his free arm, gently cooing supportive reassurances as the pill melted in your cheeks, bitter and promising a nightmare when you woke up.

When your eyes opened again, you were laying in your old bed at Wayne manor. The window had been covered up with thick metal bars, spread no more apart than half of your head’s size. Much of your old stuff, which you had brought to Jason’s primary safe house, was back. They were nowhere near where you had put them when you lived here previously, a testament to how little whoever had reinstated your items actually knew about you. Sitting up, you found that your old cotton bedding had been changed for what you assumed to be silk, it was weirdly soft and you didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. Your duvet was a deep shade of green with golden accents, and you immediately knew who was responsible for the change. Damian. Perhaps he was even the one who had moved all your old stuff back. Their methodical placement, with very few items not lining the wall, certainly looked like how Damian had decorated his own room.

 A large red box, filled with all your old clothes, as well as a bunch of new items stood in the middle of your room. You ignored it as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to stand up only to find that your vision was double-crossed and your breaths shallow, you were dizzy beyond measure and your head pounded like mad, not to mention the coating of glistening sweat, which made you feel gross just being in your own body. What in the world had Dick given you? 

Still, you attempted to move to the door, even if you realised you couldn’t stand up without fainting on the spot. Grasping your mattress tightly with both hands, you gently lowered yourself to the cold floor. Moving your legs under you, you managed to sit on your knees. Leaning forward, you took the fall with your palms, now standing on all fours. You hoped no one would ever see you in this state, it was humiliating not being able to move about as you normally did, but you had to get out or at least try. You had no idea what your father and brothers wanted with you, but you had a feeling it was nothing good.   

Sliding your shins forward and following the motion with your hands, you slowly made your way towards the door. Raising a hand to the knob, you were surprised when the door swung open by itself. In the door stood Tim, warm towels in his arms. “Ah! I saw on the camera feed that you were awake! I thought you might enjoy some pampering.” A beat of silence rang out as you met Tim’s eyes, pale blue like a summer sky. You almost impressed yourself as you jumped forward, drilling the top of your head into his knees, making the lanky man fall to the ground with a grunt, as you tried to crawl away as quickly as possible. Tim was quick to get back on his feet, running after you, but you had already reached the closest stairs leading down. It only took one look down the long wooden construction to realise what you had to do, even if it would hurt more than anything. Tim realised what you were trying as he saw your shifty eyes cast a sideways glance down the steps.

 “Y/n! Don’t you dare!” You didn’t let him finish as you closed your eyes and leaned to the side, starting to roll down the steps… or at least you would have, had it not been for the iron grip on your forearm. At first, you believed it to be Tim, but as you started to struggle, you realised that the hold was too tight and the hand too strong. Cracking open an eye, you could feel your heart sink into your stomach. Damian. Somehow, your youngest brother was the scariest one. The others were always ambivalent to your presence, but Damian had been openly hostile to you in your youth, oftentimes attacking you verbally or physically, and you didn’t doubt he could be violent towards you again. “What are you doing, Y/n?” His voice was no-nonsense, yet his eyes were soft. A strange dichotomy. “Getting away from you psychos”, you mumbled coldly, your throat was dry and the urge to cough arose as you spoke. The green-eyed man looked pensive, a tick in his jaw betrayed how he was trying to hold in his anger. He didn’t bother answering your insult, instead, he slung you onto his back and made his way back to your room, sneering at Tim when the two passed each other. Once back in your room, Damian held you down on the bed by your wrists, as he sat next to you. A general meeting was called, involving everyone in the family, except Jason, whom you had no clue where had gone.

Bruce had arrived almost immediately, with Dick prancing in not too long after. You weren’t sure what they wanted from you, assuming this was all to save Bruce’s public image, but even if that wasn’t the reason, you were sure that it was nothing good. They had all shown up on Christmas just to take you away from the only people you considered close friends and family. No one with good intentions would do something like that. As soon as the offending Waynes had all arrived, you spat out for them to announce the purpose of your kidnapping immediately. Both Bruce and Dick seemed disturbed by you titling their actions as a kidnapping. With the latter trying to defend it as being more of an obligatory change of scenery. It didn’t work, and you waited for someone to give you a proper answer with a deadpan. Damian had loosened his grip on you as the others arrived and all sat at the edge of the bed, surrounding you and making sure that you no longer had any possibility of escaping. It was claustrophobic and ominous.

Bruce was the one to explain that they had all led you back home to build the relationships, which you had all been deprived of in your younger years, expressing his regret and familial love for you, something which was echoed by the other men in the room. You were unconvinced. Telling them to drop the act and just tell you the real reason already, exclaiming how you didn’t have time to play charades with them. No matter how much they tried to convince you of their sincerity, you would have none of it, throwing their past actions in their face as proof of their dishonourable underlying motives. The meeting adjourned with no real progress made, other than the four of them deciding that you would be a danger to yourself if left alone and, therefore, making a schedule of when each of them would be by your side.

Bruce was shocked at your inability to believe in their love for you, his guilt multiplying by a hundred as he realised how untrusting you had become of your own family. He realised that he was to blame, attempting to grasp your hand, so small compared to his. Yet, when his fingers came close to yours, you jerked away, sending him a stare filled with nothing but disgust and hatred. He swore to change this, to do anything in his power to turn you to the truth of your family’s love for you, his love for you, his youngest child. The one he had almost let slip away. 

Dick was heartbroken, he had truly believed that when they revealed their regret, you’d accept them back into your life with open arms. At your apprehension, the acrobat felt as if he was brought right back to when his parents died. Once again feeling his family slip through his fingers. However, this time, he was no longer the innocent bystander, who had done nothing to deserve the situation. No, this time he felt just like the man who had cut the robes of his parents’ trapeze. He had been the one who sabotaged his relationship with you. Still, he refused to let that be how the two of you would part ways. No. He deserved a second chance, he was your brother, after all. Family doesn’t just split with each other because of misunderstandings. He promised you and himself that he would not let it end like this. The two of you would become just as close as he and Damian, no matter how long it’d take. Dick could wait... No, he couldn't.

Tim blamed Jason for your sudden unwillingness to trust their intentions. Not even giving their prior neglect any thought. It was funny how he had practically worshipped Jason when he was younger, but now? Now, he blamed Jason for having corrupted your mind. Tim had completely turned around the memories of you attempting to communicate with him when you were younger. Instead of him telling you to scram every time you walked into his room to talk, he had deluded his own mind into thinking that he used to welcome you with open arms. Certain memories of Conner and him playing video games for hours on end were changed into the two of you doing the very same. He did not blame you for your hesitance, he preferred to solely, yet delusionally, place the entire blame on Jason. The ex-Robin, who had once been Tim’s biggest idol, had now turned into his greatest enemy. The way he so readily placed the blame on someone else spoke volumes about his lack of awareness when it came to your lucidity. He was sure that he could turn your mind ‘right’, by that he, of course, meant, ‘make you believe his version of events’. Tim’s delusional memories might’ve started off as just a plan to manipulate you, but they almost immediately turned into his own perceived truth. Anything to place the blame on Jason and not himself.

While Damian also disliked Jason like Tim, he was nowhere near delusional. He was highly lucid and entirely aware that, yes, they had all treated you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. Yes, you were probably well within your right to deny them any affection or chances. Yes, their new-found obsession with your love had become unhealthy and guilt-ridden, and it was certainly to your detriment. However, Damian had always been selfish and spoiled, two traits of his that he was aware of, yet couldn’t find it within himself to change. He was brought up as a prince his entire life, first as the heir to Eth Alth'eban and then as the unofficial prince of Gotham. There had never been anything he wanted that he didn’t get, and he knew that you would be no different. He was loyal to any cause he set his mind to and now, you would be it. No matter how much you’d fight, he was willing to keep his course. It was better for the both of you, he would get to enjoy your presence, and hopefully your care, while you’d be protected from any and all harm. Damian would give you the world if you asked, literally, so he saw no reason why he couldn’t demand your affection.

After your initial shock at the kidnapping subsided, you came to realise that your family’s newfound care had nothing to do with their public image, but rather some psychotic break in their mentality. Their affections turned clingy and you slowly started to feel a sense of hopelessness. They never let you be alone and they were so demanding of your affections. 

Dick was especially bad in that regard, forcing you to cuddle and be physically affectionate, even if you showed an aversion to physical touch. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to be close with your eldest brother, which meant he lent you little to no understanding in regards to any lack in the enjoyment of his company. Bruce never stopped Dick, always excusing his overly affectionate demeanour and encouraging you to do the same. Dick would in general be very open and clingy in his affection, barely letting you leave the couch or bed so that he could just encase himself around you like plastic wrap, rubbing your cheeks together and otherwise holding onto you tightly. It would really just be a way for him to make sure yiu were still there, that you weren’t missing like the night they brought you back. It really changed him deeply. Dick would also likely move back into the manor, much to everyone’s, except you, delight. That way he could be near you more often and better follow the observation schedule that they set up.

Bruce himself was much more willing to let you have your space, but there were certain things which he demanded, like you calling him dad, or at least father, or you eating your meals next to him. The eating arrangements always put you between Bruce and Damian, across from Dick. If that wasn’t bad enough, Bruce also enjoyed watching you eat, feeling a sense of fulfilment as he ensured that you stayed safe and sound. Of course, Bruce had cut you out of vigilante life completely, and if it had been solely up to him, he would’ve wrapped you in bubble wrap and kept you by his and your brothers’ sides forever. However, he realised that bubble wrap might be uncomfortable and probably wasn’t a very breathable material for your skin, so he did the next best thing. He made sure that you were constantly provided for, as well as spoiled beyond measure, giving you any gift that he thought you could possibly enjoy. It was, in a way, his way of giving you back what he felt he owed you for all the birthdays, Christmases and other holidays that he had missed out on. Not only that, but he also enjoyed the idea of him providing for you as a good father should.

Tim spent hours trying to ‘re-program’ your mind. He would describe in great detail how the two of you used to spend time together. He became frustrated when you explained how none of it ever happened and started to double down, blaming Jason for messing up your mind. Sometimes, Tim would even drag you to his room, which had become even messier as he slowly started to spend less time there and more time with you, and force you to re-enact ‘your old memories’ by playing the games he remembered the two of you playing. He would force you to sit on his bed, between his legs, as he caged you in with the rest of his lanky body and rested his head on your shoulder. It made you claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but Tim would get pouty and extend the gaming sessions if you tried to get away. The worst part of being with Tim, however, wasn’t listening to his delusional rants about your old relationship, no, that was an unavoidable nuisance at best. The worst thing was how he would dirty Jason’s name with the vilest of allegations, none of them rooted in reality. Everything from Jason kidnapping you, to Jason wanting to put your life in danger to punish Bruce and, worst of all, that Jason was somehow in a conspiracy with the League of assassins to kill you so that Damian would be Bruce’s only true heir. Whether or not you believed anything Tim said in the beginning, it was hard to entirely brush off all his claims as they were repeated to you verbatim almost every day. Sometimes Tim would even present ‘evidence’ for his claims, like videos of Jason acting suspiciously, or messages intercepted between Talia and Jason, written in their handwriting, mentioning you in a less than ideal light. Most of this ‘evidence’ was either taken out of context or simply fabricated. With many of the letters that Tim claimed were from Talia having been written by Damian, who knew his mother’s handwriting down to the smallest flicker of her wrist. 

  Damian was perhaps the most refreshing of them. He wasn’t nearly as overbearing as Bruce, nor was he as clingy as Dick and Tim. Damian was simply quite demanding. “L/n, sit next to me”, “L/n, come read with me in the library”, “L/n, come walk with me through the gardens”, and so on. His commands were easy to follow, and not to be questioned, Now, that was something you could do. Damian was less of an affection seeker, he was more patient than the rest, perfectly willing to wait until you were ready to get emotionally close to him. He would wait, with welcoming arms and a composed smile. If you ever showed Damian any affection, like a hug or putting your head on his shoulder while the two of you were reading, he would experience a brief moment of shock, before laying an arm or two around you, careful not to overwhelm you, but absolutely celebrating like new years in his mind. On the other hand, if you were to try and escape, Damian would have no qualms about breaking both of your legs with a sledgehammer, Annie Wilkes-style. Damian is deeply loyal, both to you and to Bruce, but even more so to himself and his personal beliefs. Once Damian sets a goal, he will not lose sight of it, this is also why he can remain so patient with you, but it also means that even if you somehow calm down the rest of your family’s yandere tendencies to manageable levels, this will never be the case with Damian. He will forever remain by your side, ready to protect and serve you. He does almost become reverent in his familial love for you, not in a deity-like way, but he does view you as one of the only people set above him, this reflects in the painted portraits, which he will no doubt create for you. Your room and his will both end up covered in your portraits, from different angles, with different hairstyles and so on, it is almost unsettling to see your own eyes staring back at you everywhere you go, almost like a 1984 Big Brother, only it is yourself. Damian will also take you to interact with his pets, he might keep both Titus and Batcow at a distance at first, afraid that they’ll hurt you, however, he almost transfers ownership of Jerry and Alfred the cat to you, thinking you could probably need some non-human companions to help you settle back in. He would also help you re-decorate your room if you’d like, only to sneak in deep green imagery here and there to remind you of him.

They are all exceptionally loving of you, you are their little prince/princess/royal, and they make sure to treat you like one. Alfred is almost embarrassed at the over-the-top behaviour, but he accepts it, as he feels obliged to always go with what Bruce wants. Bruce was once his little boy, (not biologically but in spirit), and he understands why the man acts as he does, even if he disagrees with the intensity of their treatment of you. He does, however, offer brief moments of reprieve, when he takes observation duty and simply lets you sit in the kitchen, munching on a cookie or two, doing whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t bring you in danger. It feels nice to just be yourself, even if only for a fleeting instant.

Jason had tried to get you back many times but was constantly being fought back by the rest of the family, physically and mentally. He had tried asking Roy for help, but the redhead was afraid of what they’d do to Lian, so he refused. The other Justice League members were of no help either, while they enjoyed Jason’s presence, they were first and foremost Bruce’s friends, and as such took his side in the matter. There was nothing Jason could do, he was powerless to help you as you were practically held captive within your old childhood home.

In short, the family made you the jewel of their eyes, your previous neglect was swept under the rug and you’re expected to forget it or at least forgive them. If I were to rank them from worst to best, it’d probably be Tim, Dick, Bruce, Damian and Alfred, (let’s be honest, he’d definitely turn at least slightly yandere after a while, even if you won’t notice. Heck, the fact that he lets Bruce hold you captive definitely screams “Not entirely against you being here against your will”). I think Tim would be the worst, as he often puts the need to convince you that you have always been close and his hatred of Jason before your actual wants and needs, and he will do things which you will find traumatic and uncomfortable, just to get you to agree with him. Dick is right behind him, as he puts his own need for extreme physical validation before your comfort and will expect you to forgive him relatively fast, as well as not being particularly sympathetic to your situation. Bruce and Damian are both tolerable, with Bruce being slightly worse due to his extreme overbearingness and lesser patience. Alfred is… well he’s Alfred, he treats you like a normal person would, while just being insanely enabling in his lack of action against Bruce. You’ll never escape any of them, so you better get comfortable.

[starless-nightz]

ARCANE: LEAGUE OF LEGENDS MASTERLIST

I'm crazy, baby! -> Jinx X fem! reader

Sevika cuddling HCs

Jealous! Jinx HCs

Yandere! Jinx HCs

Jinx with Caitlyns sister! reader HCs

Dont leave me -> Jinx X fem! reader

Jinx with a S/O who has the same curse as Arlecchino

My perfect girl -> Mel Medarda X wife! reader

Ekkos girl -> platonic! Ekko X fem! child! reader

Good luck, babe! -> Jinx X Piltover! fem! reader

Vi NSFW HCs

Runaway girls -> Jinx X Piltover! fem! reader

High School AU! Caitlyn secretly dating Zaunite! fem! reader

Jinx NSFW HCs

Jinx with a singer! S/O

Jinx falling for Sevikas sister! reader

Jinx flirting with bartender! reader

Jinx catching her S/O cut themselves

Abandoning Jinx HCs

Caitlyn spoiling her fem! S/O

Jinx with a pyromaniac! fem! reader

Caitlyn NSFW HCs

Tell me will my name be your last breath? -> Jinx X civilian! Piltover! fem! reader

Caitlyn with a S/O who cries during sex

Sitting on Jinx's face

Doing an all day for Jinx

Jinx with a calm and gentle! S/O

Poly! Lightcannon killing someone who disrespectes their S/O

Jinx and her fem! S/O looking after Isha HCs

Jinx with a ballerina! S/O that fights very elegently

Caitlyn with a fem! S/O who is an enforcer and lost her father in the attack

Jinx, Caitlyn and Maddie with a fem! Zaunite! mage! S/O

Sevika and Ambessa with a fem! singer! S/O

Platonic Isha with a twin sibling! reader

Mel with a suger baby! fem! S/O

Jinx and her S/O grieving Isha HCs

Caitlyn with a S/O who was injured in the attack

Jealous! Intersex! Ambessa fucking her fem! S/O HCs

Jinx with a fem! S/O thats has a very cozy and very maximalist house

Poly! Caitlyn and Maddie HCs

Exhausted! Caitlyn being taken care of by her fem! S/O

Jinx falling for Ishas older sibling! reader

Maddie with a fem! Zaunite! S/O whos mad at her

The look of love -> Jinx X fem! reader, platonic! Isha X fem! reader

Jinx and Isha celebrating readers birthday HCs

Remember me -> Jinx X fem! reader, platonic! Isha X fem! reader (part 1)

Jinx and her S/O doing Ishas hair

more to be added...

main page

[andreal831]

Do you see Klaus as an unreliable narrator in TO?

1000% yes.

He's a textbook narcissist so we have to remember everything he says comes from a place of being unable to look outside himself or to empathize with others. Which makes the entire narration of TO unreliable.

One example I can think of is when Elijah and Klaus are talking about Tatia (Elijah is also an unreliable narrator because he centers everything on Klaus. In my opinion due to guilt). We hear, and in TO see, how much Elijah cares for Tatia. But not really Klaus. We hear him and Elijah say Klaus loved Tatia, however, in the scenes in TO, Klaus essentially assaults Tatia by kissing her without even being concerned if she wants him to. Even when she pulls away from him, he just moves on. This isn't the actions of someone who is in love. And then when we see Tatia and Elijah interact, there is clearly some history. They have an ongoing flirtation. Yet, when Elijah and Klaus tell the story, it essentially focuses on their brotherly bond and less on Tatia. We don't hear how devastated Elijah was from her death, but how loving Tatia nearly broke their bond apart. Even when Elijah learns he was responsible for Tatia's death, instead of allowing him to feel that pain and grieve, he has to apologize to Klaus (and also deal with Klaus murdering his own father). Klaus doesn't react the way he did when he learned of what Elijah did to Aurora because he truly didn't care about Tatia. But he continues to push the narrative to center Elijah's past love interest around himself.

We see him do the same with Stefan in TVD, to the point where a large majority of the fandom believes Stefan and Klaus were romantically invovled despite being explicitly told that Rebekah and Stefan were invovled at the time. I'm not saying yes or no to either, but pointing out how the narrative impacts the viewers.

We also see this with how little emphasis the show puts on anyone that is not directly related to Klaus. Klaus is not the sole narrator of the show, but we can safely say it revolves around him. So characters like Aya, Celeste, Gia, Emil, etc. Their flashbacks are quick and just serve to explain how they know the Mikaelsons. Whereas, Klaus' love interest in the past, Aurora, gets exposition and depth through flashbacks.

The narration is told in a way that continues to victimize Klaus and brush aside his crimes. For example, when he lets Cami into his head to "scare her" and show her what a beast he is. He could show her endless slaughters, and that's just in the past year. He could show himself sacrificing a teenage girl or killing Jenna, stabbing his siblings, killing his mother, etc. But instead he shows himself turning for the first time and his family chaining him up to suppress his werewolf side. He doesn't even show the plethora of village people he just murdered which even scared Elijah. He only shows her what will create sympathy for him. We see this throughout their "talks." Even Cami calls him out on it multiple times for phrasing the story in a way that undermines how his siblings were feeling.

Contrast this to how Elijah's story is told. We already talked about Tatia and a lot of his exes. They are either explained very quickly and then moved on without allowing him/the audience time to grieve, or he they are handled through Klaus' POV so that their death's are justified/excused. But more than that, simply how his backstory is told, or Kol for that matter, is done in a less sympathetic light than Klaus.

We don't really see Elijah feed from people or murder without cause. That is up until the show decided to introduce the Red Door. This entire storyline is used to retcon Elijah as "the worse brother." But lets be honest, they've all killed so many people, why is Elijah killing seen as worse? Because they make it scary and bloody and it scares even the main characters. Whereas Klaus' trial is made to be humorous. The audience is supposed to laugh at Klaus forcing a girl to watch her mother burn alive because she was coughing too much. Even Klaus killing main characters like Carol are made to be humorous. They make Kol seem like this unhinged killer, but Klaus is the one who goes off and kills with him. When Kol does it, it's out of control. When Klaus does it, it's funny so their lives don't matter.

We see this with how the show treats Rebekah and her suitors. Rebekah is seen as naive because she keeps falling for the wrong people who take advantage of her. But Klaus is seen as compelling when he allows Caroline to manipulate him, to the point that it gets his brother killed. Or Aurora manipulate him to the point that it gets Rebekah kidnaped. Or Genevieve manipulate him to the point it gets Hayley killed and almost Hope. But when Klaus is manipulated, it's because he cares too much and the women took advantage of him. When it happens to Rebekah, it's because she's stupid and needs Klaus to make her decisions.

We see it in how Cami's transition is told. Cami is struggling throughout Season 3 but all Klaus sees is himself. To the point that when Cami snaps at him for pushing too far, the next scene is him killing a random art critic, essentially implying that it was her fault. She shouldn't have prioritized her own emotions and snapped at a grown man because he can't be responsible for his own actions.

TO thrives on Klaus being an unreliable narrator because it allows his misdeeds to be pushed to the back of the audience's mind and his victimization brought to the front. Even how he speaks about himself is unreliable. Initially, he blames Mikael for making him a monster. But then he learns his mother made him weak and blames her. But then he later blames Elijah for what he did to Aurora a year later. And throughout the show he blames all of his siblings for "abandoning" him when we never see a moment of them attempting to abandon him. Yes, I'm sure all of these things contributed, but the main point is that at no point does he blame himself. He never once takes accountability for his actions and no one ever makes him. Elijah and Rebekah attempt to several times, and lord knows Cami tried, but they are seen as unsympathetic in those moments through Klaus' eyes.

Thanks for the ask! I answered this one so quickly because I don't think I've talked about this individually and it is so fascinating to me. Let me know if you agree or disagree <3

[aettuddae]

HONEYCOMB — chapter 4.

꩜ synopsis: the lavier-choi's, a french-korean family from seoul's elite that runs an electric vehicle production business, has been preparing to face a looming economic crisis that could crumble their empire, and it all takes a turn for the worse when, unexpectedly, their patriarch, who headed the company, suddenly passes away. at the news and her mother's desperate call, albany, the eldest daughter, is forced to abandon her life in paris representing france as a professional fencer and return to her homeland to face her mom's old-fashioned whims in order to help the family. amidst all the frenzy, the only positive thing she finds is that, after years, she will be reunited with her siblings and all the friends she grew up with, especially the yu family from across the street.

masterlist | prev | next

the fact that the day was sunny seemed ironic, it was unpleasant. if everyone was crying, so should the sky. the weather contrasted brutally with the black mourning clothes worn by the choi family, who were accompanied by the yu's who had been junmin's siblings and children as well, entering the funeral home to escort the procession to the wake site.

led by the matriarch who was almost as hard to look in the face as it was to look at the sun shining brightly on such a dark day. not a tear, just that exaggerated and clearly feigned grief. everyone grieves in their own way, minjeong would have said, but with eveline lavier you could tell right away that she wanted to get everything over with when it came to mourning her husband and finally getting down to the business of minho taking over as CEO of the family company.

after all, the name was lavier motors, not choi.

the woman hurriedly opened the door to the room where her late partner was lying, only for everyone to be surprised to find that he was not alone there.

beside the coffin stood two tall figures in black clothing who always astonished the newcomers when they appeared in town. albany and her best friend, jang wonyoung, who for the past few years always took the opportunity to return to seoul when choi did, so the clan had already become familiar with her presence. the blonde had her eyes lost, she was looking at the crate in front of her, but she wasn't really. her hands were folded on her back while jang held onto her arm, rubbing it with her palm gently to try to give her some kind of comfort, her chin resting on her shoulder.

albany looked as if she was on pause and her game was only going to continue when that piece of wood suddenly opened and her father sat down to tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, that it was okay, that they would go ride the horses on the weekend and eat makguksu like they used to. but that moment never came.

hearing the sudden clatter that always accompanied her mother everywhere, she raised her head to take a look at the visitors, meeting her siblings and friends. most of them stopped their walk when they saw someone they didn't expect to find in the place, they only knew that the girl would arrive for the funeral, but she hadn't told them much more. others were just surprised to see her, as she would go to seoul only a few times during the year. but wendy had no time for shock, she rushed to her older sister who wrapped her in a hug, welcoming her back to the city and, although she was already crying, she broke down even more. albany held her as long as she needed, only letting her go once her sobs subsided a little. she arranged her sister's hair and wiped her tears away with her thumb.

if there was one thing about growing up with the privileged life they had been given, it was the fact that they grew up so secluded from the rest of the world that at the end of the day, they only had each other. minho and wendy went back and forth between their own places and the family home, but there was always the certainty that they were just a call away. sunwoo lasted six months living on the university campus before he missed having someone else clean his room, and minji still didn't seem to have any plans to go anywhere. the only real loss the choi's had experienced until a few hours ago was when albany moved to france, and having her there at such a difficult time gave them security, it was like having a jigsaw puzzle complete.

minho took care of the younger ones, but he couldn't do everything by himself.

she had a moment with each of her siblings, with giselle who was always by minho, and even with her mother -or her shell -. she gave her condolences to her father's great and lifelong friend and his wife, and then was welcomed into the arms of minjeong, who did her best to lift her spirit a little bit.

albany didn't show any emotion, not because she was not a sensitive person, but rather because she seemed to not be able to fully assimilate the moment. her attitude was lost, but no one could blame her because how are you supposed to act when you lose a loved one?

she turned away from the younger yu, giving her a tender look, as if thanking her without saying words, and turned her body towards jimin, and then she reacted.

as if she was just a child again running to her safe place where she knew she could cry and hide without consequences, the moment her eyes connected with the blackhaired's, her bewildered countenance fell apart leaving room only for the tears that began to wet her cheeks as if it had started to rain inside the funeral home. jimin looked at her sadly and quickly rushed to wrap her body around hers. albany collapsed over the girl as if she was physically feeling the emotional release, her head buried in her neck soaking her with her cry and her hands clinged to her back to keep her from leaving. jimin tangled her fingers in her hair, running them through her locks to try to calm her without much result.

even though there didn't seem to be a need for words, jimin didn't know what to say. she felt horrible thinking that she hadn't called her as soon as she heard the news, but what do you say to someone going through this? she couldn't call albany of all people and say the same textbook dialogues. but then she held her while she vented, and she would hold her as long as necessary because that was what jimin did, she protected her.

the younger girl found herself crying too as she stroked the blonde's back, "don't worry, i'm here." she finally dared to say in her ear, just for her, no one else needed to listen.

"i should have been." the oldest managed to articulate in between her meltdown. "i should have come for his birthday." her breathing was labored, but jimin understood her words. "i haven't seen him since new year's." she remembered. "i should have come more often."

"you were busy." she tried to comfort her. "he knows you wanted to see him." she assured her. "this is no time to regret things you can no longer change."

"i should have come for his birthday." she reiterated, in such a state of despair that she could do nothing but regret.

[green-eyedfirework]

To say this is a surprise is an understatement.

Slade made the offer in seriousness, though perhaps not fully.  It’s the first offer he’s made since Adeline’s passing and while it’s been four years, long enough for the grieving period to be over, he hasn’t given full thought to remarrying.  He has his hands full, with Grant’s sullenness and Joey’s muteness and then the addition of Rose, and the idea of finding a new mate was a distant one.

Richard Grayson is handsome, to be sure, and charming, a jewel of the Wayne pack with no shortage of admirers.  His introduction to society was unfortunately followed by his father’s disappearance and the flurry of a mourning period it prompted, cutting off courtships for a few years.  Lord Wayne was thankfully found a few months ago, but it appears he’s not quite all the way well, because Richard and his siblings arrived in London on their own this season.

They’ve been fawned over at every turn, a sickening display that Slade’s mostly avoided, but he ran into Richard quite by chance when Rose went missing on an outing at the park.  He found her with Wayne’s little brat of an heir, both kids shrieking gleefully under Richard’s fond supervision.  Once the children made friends, there was, of course, no escaping the interactions, and Slade watched with increasing desire as Richard calmly and evenly handled two sets of hellions with admirable ease.

The omega is young but mature, gracious and kind but also stubborn.  Protective of his packmates, of children no matter who they are.  Pretty.  Rich.  Enough hints of fire to pique Slade’s interest.

When Joey all but clambered into Slade’s lap to solemnly demand that Dick join their pack, his interest finally solidified into an offer.  Even Grant only made a huff at the proposition, a ringing endorsement from the sullen teen, and Rose was willing to do anything to ensure she keeps her playmate.

So Slade sent his offer, serious but expecting nothing of it.  For all the reasons Slade wants him, Grayson has a hundred admirers, younger, richer, belonging to more powerful families.  Slade is a widower with three children and Richard is the eldest omega of the Wayne pack, he didn’t imagine it would be taken seriously.

“Forgive me, but I have to be blunt,” Slade said, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward.  “Why?”

Richard is sitting in the seat opposite, straight-backed, shoulders relaxed, hands resting in his lap.  He radiates tension despite it.

“You were the one who made the offer, my lord,” Richard says evenly.  “Are you rescinding it?”

“I’m asking you why you’re accepting it,” Slade says flatly.  He has no patience for games.  “I’m nearly twice your age, with three children.  I cannot possibly be your best offer.”

“If you’re so certain I wouldn’t accept, why did you offer at all?”

Yet another question answered with a question.  If he wasn’t already suspicious, the deflections would cement it.

Slade narrows his eye.  “Don’t play naïve, boy, it doesn’t suit you.”  Something flickers in Richard’s eyes, there and gone.  “If I’m your choice, then there’s something you’re hiding.”  He drops his voice to a growl, “And I don’t like secrets near my family.  Not after what the last one did.”

Richard drops his gaze and swallows, shoulders hunching, giving into the anxiety hovering around him like a cloud.  Slade gives him a minute.  If he still won’t speak, Slade will have him thrown out.  The children will be unhappy, but better unhappy than maimed.

“I—I was—I am,” Richard swallows, tries again, swallows, tries again.  “It’s just—I wasn’t—I—”

“Just spit it out,” Slade snaps.

Richard doesn’t flinch, but he does draw in a deep breath, and when he exhales, he looks up to meet Slade’s gaze.  “I know that your lordship already has three children.  I was hoping that someone of your position, with an assured line of succession, would be more amenable to taking a mate with prior engagement in behaviors that might threaten the parentage of any heirs.  If I was wrong, I hope we can resolve this amicably and restore the goodwill between our packs.  It was never my intention to bring any harm to your pack.”

Slade takes a moment to sort through all of it.  Richard is ashen, but still keeping Slade’s gaze, sitting prim and proper as though he hasn’t just admitted to being ruined.

“You’re not chaste,” Slade says finally, leaning back.

“No,” Richard says.  His hands are clenched in his lap.

“Who?” Slade asks.

It’s not precisely idle curiosity, not with the darker parts of him wanting to shred to pieces anyone who dared to taste the omega.  An earlier courtship, maybe, one cut off by Lord Wayne’s disappearance and never resumed?  Slade knows that betrothed omegas and alphas will fool around, hiding away from their chaperones, not thinking about the consequences should the agreement be broken off.

“Does it matter?”  Richard’s jaw is tight.

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “If you want to reach an agreement, yes.”

Richard takes a controlled breath and looks away.  “Lord Desmond,” he says sharply.  That isn’t what Slade was expecting.  “It happened years ago.  It will never happen again, I swear it.  There was no one else.”

[batcowenraged]

do you think that bc there’s been plenty of heroes using the same name/mantle that when jon returns to earth after being aged up people assume he’s a completely different superboy and the “former” one (child jon) died like so many other child heroes have

even if the situation is cleared up eventually (even if it’s cleared up as fast as possible) do you think there’s a few weeks when people are holding candlelight vigils and making memorial posts on social media and giving gifts to all the supers

there’s mothers who’s children have been saved by jon or have lost their children to supervillain catastrophes handing flowers and food and handmade gifts to superman saying “pass them on to superboys mother. send her our empathy”

fathers who’ve endured the same stopping superman on the street to shake his hand and tell him they understand bc being superhuman wouldnt make him immune to feeling alone in his grief

robin is handed art and photos of the supersons and string bracelets in super colors from kids and pretends not to notice adults slipping grief support pamphlets to batman or batgirl or nightwing or whoever he’s patrolling with that night

superboy is given homemade action figures of two superboys both him and the little kid he shared a mantle with older siblings and older cousins and aunts and uncles all look at him with understanding

supergirl won’t except anything just flinches and flies away people get it they stop approaching her

do you think they keep anything civilians gave them?? bc they are grieving someone, just not in the way civilians assumed