#tw memory wiping

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Omg for the Whumper dialogue 11 + c!primeboys

had to do a finale horror thing again.

TW: Suicidal thoughts, memory loss, memory wiping, abuse, manipulation, self harm

——

It felt like floating.

Tommy expected something violent, something cruel out of this limbo, but he felt more at peace here than any others. It was like he was floating in an ocean of stars, and when he closed his eyes he could hear the gentle roar of the ocean.

Was this what death was meant to be like? Fuck, if that was the case, Tommy would have offed himself long ago. It was… peaceful.

He missed peace. That’s all he ever really wanted.

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Tommy thought about nothing. He had no thoughts for untold eons, and thought of everything every second. His mind was racing fast yet staying utterly still, and it felt like he was asleep and awake for an eternity and a minute. He could hear the salty ocean breeze and taste the sounds of waves as trillions of star systems were born and died around him.

And the universe loved him, for he was love.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” someone said, and Tommy groaned because fuck, he knew that voice all too well.

“Fuck off, Dream,” he mumbled, not bothering to even open his eyes. “If you wouldn’t let me rest in life, let me rest in death, you prick.”

“Well, I just don’t want you to miss the show, y’know. It’s not every day you watch the universe be reformed before your eyes.”

“The fuck are you on about?”

“C’mon, did you really think I'd give up that easily? Your little plan was adorable, honestly, so I couldn’t help but let you have it, but this… this is what I wanted all along.”

“To play God?”

“A fresh start.” Dream laughed, and it was almost disturbing how little malice was in it. “One where I'll finally be able to help, and all of you won’t just keep resisting me. I could have reset you back to how you all were at the start of the server… but it’s so much easier to wipe the slate clean completely. None of you will remember a thing once this is done. Maybe you'll know your names, if you're lucky. And I'll be able to hold onto all of that for everyone! I’ll be the only one who remembers, the only one who can help… it'll be wonderful, won’t it Tommy?”

“No! No, no, fuck no.” Tommy jolted up suddenly, glaring at Dream. “That sounds like Hell. Fuck, man, that sounds like Exile.”

“I know. Isn’t it perfect?”

“No no no no no no no!” Tommy grabbed his ears, pushing his nails into his head violently. “No, I’m not doing that again! I’m not! I’m not I’m not I’m not. You’re not- I'm not going to just forget everything. I refuse. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do that again!”

A gentle hand wiped tears off his face he didn’t even know were there. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you forget. Then we can start over again. Except this time, it'll never have to end like this! It'll be just like Exile, forever, with everyone! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

The last thing Tommy said before he was swallowed whole by the universe and forgot was a quiet, broken “No.”

[quietwingsinthesky]

Theta/Koschei

Koschei decides to ‘force a regeneration’ to see if it gets rid of the drums.

I’ll let you decide at which point in that process Theta finds him.

>:) (<- evil)

The first thing Koschei hears is Theta-

No, the first thing he hears is the drums. He cringes in on his new body, its limbs awkwardly long and its hair in his face. He claws at his head, and when his nails aren’t strong enough to get inside and scratch the noise out, he starts pounding at his temples. It only encourages the drums to get louder. All he can smell is bitter metal, on his skin, in his mouth, soaked through. It was supposed to be cast off a new regeneration, so why is his blood still clinging to him?

He feels the hands wrap around his wrists and force him to stop. He feels the body kneeling next to his. “You jumped,” Theta hiccups. “You jumped!”

Koschei peers up at the cliffs above. The skies look like they’re burning overhead. Good, he thinks, good, burn down with me.

Him at the edge. Theta frozen feet away. An expression on their face he’d never seen, no matter how much they’d gotten into trouble in the past.

He scared his friend.

“I- I couldn’t move,” Theta says, like they need his forgiveness. “I tried! I couldn’t move! You jumped!”

“It didn’t work,” Koschei says, unable to summon up more reaction than a statement of fact. Theta shivers and wraps around him. They’re shorter than him. He didn’t think about that—only the blessed promise of relief. It’s all that he can hold onto now, Theta’s terrified expression as he tilted over the edge and their body, too small to bundle him up in their arms anymore like they used to. They bury their tears in his hair.

“Of course it didn’t work. You can regenerate, you can’t-” Their voice shatters. Koschei tries to be gentle, but he flinches at the pounding in his head, shoving Theta’s shoulder. Stubbornly, they hold on tighter. “I won’t let you go back up there. I won’t.”

“It didn’t work,” he repeats, like it’ll make sense to them. It hits him, suddenly, what he’s done. The obviousness of it, his whole body a betrayal of a moment’s grasp at peace, how could he- He wants to hide in Theta’s arms, but he can’t, he’s too tall.

“I did this,” Theta says. “It’s my fault. I did this.”

“No,” he snaps. He won’t have it taken from him, even as he can’t look at the shame of it. It was his choice; he jumped. “You told me to get away from the edge.”

“Shut up!” Theta is trying to crush him. His ribs ache from the way their fists jam into his sides. “I pushed you, understand?” He wriggles.

“You didn’t-”

“Koschei, you jumped,” Theta says, voice gone near a whisper again, and he listens to that more readily than he does when they match his volume and fight with him. “I don’t know what they’ll do to you if you jumped.”

He understands.

“You pushed me,” he agrees.

“It was an accident,” they build.

“The wind was too strong. I lost my footing.”

“And I pushed you too hard. We shouldn’t have been this close to the edge.”

“I forgive you.” Theta’s breathing stutters.

“You have a stupid amount of hair now,” they mumble. Koschei agrees. His head hurts so much, and he can’t place what’s worse: the drop after sudden regeneration, or the fresh bruises from hitting himself, or the drums, they’re louder now, he made them louder-

“It didn’t work,” he says a final time, no longer numb to it. His vision blurs, and his breath is coming one-two, three-four, one-two, three-four, stop it, stop it, stop it!

Theta touches his face, smearing his tears over his cheeks. They jam their forehead forward, close the distance until the entire universe is the two of them, alone.

He has to escape somehow. He grasps at Theta’s mind, not calm, always whirring and humming but quiet compared to his. He sinks into them with a sob.

They’re still there, in the back of his head, beating away.

He tries to pretend it’s only the sound of Theta’s hearts.

Maybe, for a moment, he even believes it.

[ca-8]

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕫𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕥!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚)

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

(This is a yandere fanfic meant to portray behaviors seen in fiction and fiction only. This is not to represent people who have real mental/personality disorders and/or trauma that cause them to gain obsessive behaviors. Please do not romanticize any behavior like this seen in real life, and do not actively seek out a relationship with someone who is prone to hurt themselves and/or others. Keep fantasies in fiction. Thank you.) (Major Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, descriptive human gore, ingestion of human insides, body hacking) .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The pile was gone.

Little Hoppy was licking up the bloodied stains on the floor. (Y/n) had forgotten she was there until they realized they had been staring down at her for the past half hour. Their vision became stable again, their body was no longer trembling, and their stomach growled with reluctant, sickly relief. So they sat there, filling their shriveling lungs with air that was curing out its hellish stench. Just like on the day when they all feasted on Devils.

Which made this impossible. (Y/n) and presumably every other toy in Playtime Co. gorged on hundreds of bodies for years, until they ran out. One minute they were bathing in a victorious bloodbath, the next their stomachs begged them to turn on each other. That's why it was always so empty. That's why (Y/n) and little Hoppy always hid. So…who…?

Gloved hands coated in red rested on their shoulders. And his godawful voice whispered in their ear, "Hello, darling."

Get up. Run. Grab Hoppy and run as far away as you can. But no matter how loud their inner voice screamed at them, they sat right in place. Little Hoppy had curled up in their lap and fallen asleep.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to scream, but Bunzo quickly hushed them as he leaned in to rest his head on their shoulder.

"Look how peaceful she looks. That must've been the first meal she had in a long time." They whimpered; he was so close that their cheeks touched. His breath reeked of Devil. "It must've been your first meal too, right, (Y/n)?"

His voice lowered when he said their name. There was so much pleasure laced within his tongue, they could feel him practically trembling as each letter spilled out. He gripped their chin with such force, as if he would break their jaw open if they even attempted to move from him.

No, he would. He'd have them writhe in agony and drag them back down to his little "playhouse". They looked down, their breath hitching. Bunzo's bloodied hand was caressing over the line of stitches connecting their beautiful (f/c) fur-covered thigh with a raggedy leg of another toy on their line.

It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg with the thread harshly chafing against each hole. But what hurt more was tearing off a leg from another (Y/n)'s decaying corpse.

"You've been starving for so long, all because you thought you didn't need me. But now look at you, so filled with energy and beauty and life again. I was so considerate to look past the fact that you abandoned me, and brought you and your little pet back from the brink of death."

That God they praised was him. "Where did you get it?" their voice croaked from their voice box. It was the only thing they could push from their mouths that wouldn't make him harm them.

Bunzo's smile widened, and he brought his mouth closer to theirs. "A former employee was roaming around Playcare, all alone in the dark. I saw them, and I thought of you," he explained.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, it wasn't hard. Who can go far with only one leg, anyway? And your only notable quality is how absolutely captivating you are, my dear. Having beauty that only I can admire."

Something was caught in the corner of their eye, and they glanced up. It was a rotting poster splattered in decomposing blood, but the most disgusting thing on it were the cartoon versions of (Y/n) and Bunzo embracing each other, surrounded by hearts and drowning in once better days.

Suddenly, he held their hand. "I'm so tired of worshipping your leg, it only makes me crave the rest of you. Come back with me, (Y/n). You and your pet. We can be a family together," Bunzo whispered. "From the second we were made, we were meant for each other. I can take care of you two. Other people will want to look for that former employee. You won't even have to lift a finger, I can kill them for you!" He wrapped his arms around them, forcing their hands to dig in their sides, and the maniac began to squeeze. "Do you know what you made me do when you left? I was so scared, so- so angry, I hurt so many little friends, so many of me!"

Little Hoppy's ears rose just a bit as soon as Bunzo rose his voice. She slowly rose from (Y/n)'s lap and looked up at their parents' trembling figure getting so painfully squeezed by the strange, bloodied bunny man. A low snarl erupted from that wide, toothless grin.

"It was so bizarre seeing myself bleed out by my hands - seeing so so much pour out from such tiny little bodies - but I had to do it. I had to! You are the one assigned to me, it's not my fault theirs are all dead, it doesn't mean they should have you-!" She leaped from their lap and flew straight to his face, sending him back on the ground. (Y/n) didn't look back, but their ears were doused in howls and curses as Bunzo tried to pry the little one off of him. She was little, but she wasn't prey. (Y/n) sprinted down the hallway and around the corner. They heard a gut-wrenching wail from little Hoppy, but their legs just kept going. It was pointless - when the Devils were wiped from this place, when the toys' only source of food were digested, all of their friends, their family, everyone only saw each other as either food or foe. The naive against the desperate, the weak against the strong.

And Bunzo was right, they were weak. They couldn't even take care of a little bunny. They could only run and hide and pray to a cruel God that he would disappear so they could fall asleep and never wake up.

The pitiful rabbit pushed open the door to a small, dark room and locked it behind them, then laid beneath a desk and held their mouth shut.

It had gotten quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.

Then, the silence broke far outside (Y/n)'s blanket of shadows.

"(Y/N)!" Bunzo screamed. His target stifled a sob. "I can't do this without you… I can't live without you! Don't you remember how beautiful we were together before The Hour of Joy? We knew how those Devils really saw those children, so we gave them the best life possible! We were one big happy family! We can be that again! We don't have to live out our final days in misery!"

'Go away. I don't care. I want nothing to do with you.' Yes, in the past, things were different. They were both powerless, but still made each orphan feel so loved and special. Just like how he made them once.

"I don't want you to die a hypocrite, (Y/n)," he continued. "You killed just as many as I did! I saw it all, the way you tore their jaws opened to silence their screams, how your breathtaking eyes blazed with fury as you ripped out their spines… it was heavenly."

(Y/n) clawed their face. They hated those Devils. They hated seeing their plans for those innocent children, they weren't fit to be called human! They had to protect them, they had to! They couldn't stand to see another one go! Those screams, they were like music - wonderful enchanting music! - even when living so beautifully, they've never experienced something so delightful before hearing such howls melt into choking groans as a Devil's blood flooded from their broken mouths. They didn't deserve to live! If those children knew what they were going to do to them, they would've done the same thing. THEY DID NOT DESERVE TO LIVE.

And then they saw the looks on their little faces. They looked at them as if they were the monster. They weren't, (Y/n) was just trying to protect them! But when they smiled and approached them and outstretched their arms for a hug like they always did, the children only screamed in utter terror, breaking that lovely song.

"So how can you give me that face when you've committed the same sins as I have?"

They couldn't kill again. When the children ran from them, they couldn't bring themselves to harm another. All of a sudden, that hatred had diminished, so they turned and hid, and the screams went on. They only stopped when Bunzo found and urged them to eat. They were starving, and they didn't mind it at the time because if they hurt those children, they only deserve to starve. But he dragged them out and fed them bitter Devil remains.

That's when they knew he had changed along with them. They saw what the children had seen and they did not like it one bit.

But now he fed them again. And they were hiding again. And another child got hurt because of them. If a cruel God was gazing down at this pathetic rabbit, they had hoped He could end its miserable life at at that moment.

But the cruel God kept living up to His title.

Bunzo's footsteps grew closer, and little Hoppy's mewls amplified along with them. (Y/n) let go of their stinging face. 'She's alive.'

"My dear, you're not just going to leave our poor baby to die, are you?" he called right outside the door. "I can't bear to tear this cute little thing to pieces. But I will if I have to. If you really are so selfish as to break apart our precious family, it only makes sense for you to die alone."

Footsteps walked past the room and little Hoppy's whines slowly began to fade. (Y/n) laid there, their stomach becoming more and more twisted and sick. Then, they rose, and exited the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Bunzo bellowed. In one hand, he held little Hoppy's paw, making her dangle upside down. In the other, he held a half of her ear, letting small droplets of blood trail right behind him.

(Y/n) bit their quivering lip before softly saying, "Right here."

Bunzo whirled around. Little Hoppy's blood spouted across the lower wall beside him. "My beloved (Y/n), there you are!" he said cheerfully, his harsh and sadistic personality quickly fading. "You had me so worried for a second!"

Lights were flickering above them, but (Y/n) could still get a full view of him now. The green of his overalls were completely overshadowed by old blood every inch of its fabric, with little hints of fresh gore peppering a few areas. His yellow fur was completely dulled out and gave into the ugly mixture of whatever disgusting horrors he granted upon his other victims. Dirt and grime plagued his long ears, and surprisingly, (Y/n) spotted a bite at the tip of his left ear. But was most shocking was the fact that his right eye was missing.

They jumped when they realized Bunzo had moved much closer to them. "Hmm, you've must've noticed my own changes, is that right?"

"Yes, your…your eye."

"Oh! That old thing. That employee actually put up quite a bit of a fight."

"S-So…that wound…it's recent?" They glanced down at Little Hoppy for a second.

Bunzo face melted into a warm, enamored smile. "You're worried about me! That makes m e so…so happy!" He suddenly pulled them into an embrace, earning a fearful gasp from them. "You….me….this little one…" Pulling away only slightly, he brought up little Hoppy and made (Y/n) hold her along with him, dropping her half ear. It splattered only the ground, slowly uncurling like a wilting flower. "We'll be perfect together!"

They bit their tongue to keep themselves from crying. "If I stay with you…if w-we both stay…You won't hurt us?"

Bunzo's smile dropped. "Hurt you? Oh no no no no no no no! My dear, everything I've done, I did for you! To help you realize you need me as much as I need you. And it worked! Your eyes tell me you want to stay with me forever and ever!"

That crazed smile returned once more as he pulled them into another embrace. Little Hoppy whimpered and buried her face into (Y/n)'s stomach. "We'll have so much fun every day! I can show you the shrine I made for you! A-And you can give me more pieces of you so I can worship every single part of you every day!" He just kept going, on and on and on. "We'll never be apart again. We'll die together. And if you ever die before me, I'll tear open your body and make myself fit inside you, then close you up so I can suffocate against your wonderful skin. And you'll do the same for me! Doesn't that sound perfect?" (Y/n) tensed up. Their legs were aching to run away again, but they couldn't let him harm about thread on her body. Maybe this cruel God was giving her another chance at redemption. Protect the child, no matter what. Even if it means living every day in a hell with no rising sun. Even if it means becoming a slave to someone's sick fantasies. Even if it means wasting away your own life. It's time to repent for your sins. "Yes," (Y/n) said, "perfect." . . . Days have gone by. Or weeks. Or months. (Y/n) didn't care anymore. They and little Hoppy sat a table, kneeling over ragged carpet. Echoes of droplets sang close and off in the distance as they splattered against the cave floor. Sometimes they wondered what color they were. Behind them, a candle light flickered amongst the few that decorated Bunzo's masterpiece. (Y/n) always tried to avoid looking at it, as it just made them sick to their stomach, but sometimes they had no choice but to gaze upon its repulsive glory. It was a giant shrine of corpses spelling out their name, bodies once belonging to other Bunzos and (Y/n)s. Their faces were painted in such horrid agony, their mouths forever drawn out in an eternal silent scream. Each of them had their eyes gouged out as they were forced in a position to have their handless arms reach towards the shrine's centerpiece: (Y/n)'s precious leg. It was dirty and smelled absolutely appalling. Every inch of it was covered in smears and hand prints made from blood, like someone had gotten a little too personal in order to worship it. Even though asking was the last thing they wanted to do, Bunzo went ahead and whispered everything he did to it to them every night, in terribly excruciating detail.... (Y/n) released the breath they were holding and turned toward little Hoppy. Her previously damaged ear was sewn back together, and both ears were flopped over behind her head. Though she held her usual wide, toothless smile, the life in her eyes had greatly diminished. (Y/n) scooted closer and gently made her head lean on their side. "We'll be okay," they whispered. Turns out, Bunzo somewhat kept his promise; when they were good, he didn't lay a finger on Hoppy. If he was satisfied for the day, he treated them a little too well in fact, always going off into rants about how much of a good father and husband he was to his family. Always pulling (Y/n) into sudden, deep passionate kisses that had them gasping for air while he was off in a daze. It was so hard not to throw up once they were given a chance to breathe again. If he wasn't satisfied... They took in as much musty air as they could when footsteps began to approach. Bunzo emerged into the candlelight, holding yet another plate of throbbing Devil organs. The room instantly became poisoned with iron, and they held in a gag and sat up straight. "Thank you for waiting, honey!" Bunzo said enthusiastically, setting the plate down on the table and wiping the red streak off his face. "It's like this place is getting bigger every day...but we're so lucky. That employee has a lot more friends than I thought!" "Really?" (Y/n) stared at their meal. Bleeding rivers coursed through each crevice. Little Hoppy cautiously approached the pile. "We won't have to worry about food for a while!" Bunzo looked down at the bunny, who recoiled as soon as she saw him staring at her. He smiled. "Go ahead, dear, eat up. Your parents want you to grow up big and strong!"

She didn't move. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of intestine and held it up toward little Hoppy. She sniffed their hand and nibbled the contents slowly. "Aww, how adorable!" Bunzo cried happily. He scooted next to them and firmly grabbed their shoulder, pulling them toward him. "You're absolutely perfect... I can never get enough of you. Everything you do is so precious, so..." His breath clung to a gasp and broke out into quick, manic giggles. (Y/n) pulled back a bit before he grabbed their face and pressed his lips against theirs. His grip was so strong, too strong, they used their free hand to try to pry his hands off of them, or at least get him to let go.

Thankfully, he did, and he moved back just enough to let them have some air. With his half-lidded eyes swimming in morbid longing, Bunzo stared deeply into theirs, studying every smidgen of movement, every sliver of their dulling soul, every thought they could possibly be thinking and making sure it was only of him. They opened their mouth, and Bunzo cut them off. "Which reminds me," he started, "I'd like another piece."

His victim's heart stopped, and after a long, quiet moment that was only broken by dripping drops, (Y/n) picked up little Hoppy and sat her on the table next to their meal. She stepped towards them, almost putting one of her paws on their shoulder until they stood up and left the room with Bunzo following close behind. "I know you used to dream about escaping this place one day, my dear (Y/n)," he said. They entered another room with a bed and a table with various sharpened tool. The overhead light still made the fluids glisten. "When I saw you scurry from place to place, trying to ascend from our home. The more I watched you, the more confused I became." They laid down on the bed, holding out the arm fused with (f/c) and bright yellow fur from their side. Their and Bunzo's fingers trembled in sync. Bunzo grabbed a butcher's knife and ran one of their fingers against the blade. "You'd get killed the second you step outside of this place. You could never become adjusted or find someone to trust...or to love. Thinking about that made me so, so, so sad." He stepped to the side and laid his completely yellow hand firmly against the surface. "You had the nerve to leave me, then run off to get yourself killed? It hurt me. It hurt me so much. So much-" and he heaved in a gasp as he raised the knife, "-All I could think about was-" He hammered it down on his finger. A revolting crunch bounced off the walls. "How COULD you? How DARE you?" The knife flew back up and slammed back down on his finger, over and over again with each word and unstable gasp. "There wasn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do for you, and you still LEFT? After all we've BEEN THROUGH?" And with one final, painful CRUNCH, his finger laid severed in a pool of red. Bunzo gasped heavily, staring up at the wall whilst trying to regain control of his quivering arms. "...And..." he finally spoke in a haggard whisper. "And....and...and...and and and and....and you came back to me." Bunzo turned around, smiling ever so widely. Blood dripped off his teeth with pride. "And...and...and...and we started a new life together. C-CatNap was kind enough to- to...to lend us this part of the cave as our home, he...h-he, he only asked us to praise th-the...the the the Prototype, i-i-in exchange...." He pushed himself off the table and wobbled over to (Y/n). They only watched in silence, biting their lip to keep them from crying again. "I-...I don't..." He stumbled over, quickly catching himself before he could fall. "...I don't...g-give a single sh...shit about whatever he wanted, I don't care about the Prototype! I-I can't st-stand doing his...his little favors f-for his joke of a god..."

Supporting himself with his arms on the sides of their head, Bunzo hovered over them. Disgusting gore dripped onto their face, and they couldn't look away from that perfervid, boiling, doting glare. "Y-Y-You're my only God... I'll prove, I'll prove it to you...! W-We'll exchange pieces of each other and truly, truly become inseparable!" He grabbed their only good hand and brought one of their fingers up to his lips, dousing it in his saliva sighing so contently. (Y/n) was whimpering. Their heart was pounding and they couldn't keep themselves still. "Just do it already," they choked out. "Get it over with." "Aw, don't be so scared, my little bunny..." Bunzo reached over and kissed the top of their forehead. "I'll make this quick." He raised the butcher knife, and (Y/n) squeezed their eyes shut. His voice whispered within the darkness before the burning, unimaginable pain.

"After all, you've been so good for me. I love you so much." ・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・ Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜 So this was so much fun to make, and again, thank you to @zinnia1506 for requesting!! (But again, seriously guys, don't go actively looking for relationship like these in real life. A lot of people are saying "ugh I wish I could find a crazy yandere gf/bf" and I'm just like, no. No you don't. For one, it romanticizes people with obsessive behavior stemming from trauma and/or mental/personality disorders, and two, it will NOT be the relationship you want. Trust me, I know. So every time I'm gonna make a yandere fanfic, I'm gonna put that lil PSA in the beginning. Keep yourselves safe.

Okay! Also, you guys can now request CatNap because:

I've been researching about him and people have been saying that he was 7 years old by the time he turned into CatNap, and since this game takes place ten years later (as the game implies that the toys can age), he has aged ten years mentally and emotionally, technically making him 17-18 years old (Update on that: @atiz57 just informed me that he may be in fact older, as he was turned into CatNap at age 7, stayed in that body for four years before the Hour of Joy making him 11, and 10 years later when the game took place, he would be 21. I wanna say thanks to them for giving me that info!)

I kin and am hyperfixated on CatNap and I wanna write about him pLEASE GIMME SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES HIM/nf

For the most part, I ask you guys to keep it mostly platonic (because I still speculate on his true age from time to time), and I'd love to hear from you all!~ 💜 Next up, we have a requested DogDay fanfic! I'm so excited to write it and show you guys!!

[roscvcins]

@dcstinyscdgc asked : this isn't what it looks like. (hongliu)

He smiles and doesn't shy away from meeting violet eyes, slipping naturally into the tight space that's their less than grand upstairs bathroom without even the slightest hesitance. Snags a new towel from the rack and takes Z.hao M.uchi's hands into his own. Gently wipes each finger again, focused and slow and methodical as he moves on to the knuckles, to the palm. His voice is low, calm, "...You should know that I'll believe whatever you tell me." Satisfied with his work, he sets the towel aside, and looks up again. "So tell me, or don't tell me, but..."

They may have to keep it quiet from L.u Y.izhan, but frankly, B.ai L.iu doesn't particularly care. Fingertips tap light against the other's palm, and he leans in to give M.uchi a quick peck welcome home. "...More importantly, I can draw you a bath, if you want."

[thedeadthree]

besties we survived the couriers mile

[unusualshrimp]

i hate mental health content like "heal your inner child 🥺" what if i HATE that thing and want to beat it to a pulp. is that allowed because i think that would fix me

[zylvrina]

The fact that we had to read a book about a guy who's so big that when he pees thousands of people drown in it, for class, is like, wtf? And to make it even worse we were quizzed on it and one question was seriously how many people drowned in piss. I passed, but like, whyyyyyyy. Comparative literature professors are so weird and also kinda chill. We also afterwards had a whole lecture about the book with a lot of focus on the pee, idk why that was necessary but I had to listen to that for two hours straight.

Anyways the book is Gargantua and Pantagruel, do not read if you want your sanity intact.

[fma03envy]

Thinking about Junko's execution again and the concept of AI Junko as a "came back wrong and knows it" type character makes me insane. Like imagine existing to continue the life's work of someone who had so gleefully killed herself

You're Junko and you're here because Junko didn't want to keep going but you're supposed to want to keep going because that's what Junko would have wanted and Junko is you. Urggggg

[griim]

The chair and its effects on Gemma

okay, so big trigger warning the following contains mention of; child abuse, child experimentation, general abuse, inhumane treatment, memory loss, electroshock, memory loss and memory wiping, trauma, and burns mention. (if I missed any more please let me know.)

before we start there are a few things you need to know;

Treatment; Was/is the code word for what they called being wiped. Each doll/person believed it was a simple appointment, not a wipe. They would not know anything about this. 

Blank Slate/Doll-like state; This is post wipe/treatment where the person has not been given a personality, during these times the person will be child-like and not know most things. They like routine. The Chair; Now I will interchange this with the machine because they are the same thing. The chair is hooked up to a machine that does the work but you are in the chair as it happens.

Matthew Harding many years before the twins were born, worked for and with a company that ran these places that were around the world. They were called Dollhouses. Each house having its methods of running things. While not much is known about the other houses. Gemma learned about how her father had done things in his, or rather how he didn’t do things in his house. He did not care for them, he was inhumane, keeping all the people there in CAGES. The chair that he used was one of the most painful, to him this was just a way to make money and this was the start of the future. One where he could help prolong life, though at the cost of people who never had a say. One of those very people being the twin’s mother, though Matthew would never admit it. The chair in question looked like a normal dentist chair, but once on it and it was turned on it was completely different. Electrical impulses and frequencies would begin to change everything about you.

Once activated for the first time on a person, the chair would map all things about you. This would be your brain and its functions, any talents or muscle memories you had. After doing this your personality and everything about you that makes you… are stored on a flash drive. IF YOU’RE LUCKY. Once you have been ‘saved’ the machine that is connected to the chair then wipes everything about you, right down to any talents you might have. When it is all said and done you are nothing more than a blank slate, ready to be programmed as the person sees fit. Each of these ‘treatments’ can last minutes to seconds depending on what is happening to them. When a person is in their blank slate, they will have no personality and be flat. Because well they don’t know any better. They also will be easily over-stimulated and not understand most things and raising your voice at them will get you nowhere. It would be like talking to a brick wall.

After being programmed a person could be whatever or whoever the person giving you the treatment wanted. There were records of there being thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people who had been programmed. Gemma, having found some files found that they could make someone speak any known language to man. She also found they could make them a cold-blooded killer… Or a sexual person. But after all, is said and done the person who had done these things remembered nothing. While the person they were with or the family of the person they killed lived with the reality. This was all funded by contracts, secret ones, that were funded by organizations like HYDRA. During one of his experiments, Matthew realized he could prolong life and make people live on forever. Or be in multiple places at once. Matthew knew he could capitalize on this, putting it out there people began to realize this was not good. As word got out the organization was quickly taken down, everything either destroyed or taken and heavily locked away. Though HYDRA continued to reach out to Matthew, though knowing best for them to remain in the darkness.

The future that Matthew had planned came crashing down, he and his family quickly went into hiding. After years of remaining in the darkness, he began to weave himself more into HYDRA, his beliefs aligning with theirs. Matthew even managed to wrangle in a couple of scientists who began to help him recreate the chair, promising those who supported this idea eternal life. HYDRA began to get him what he requested, though under the stipulation that if this failed he would be paying with his life. Years passed and with a few setbacks, it was finally time to test it. Matthew realized he needed subjects, to make sure that it was going to do what he promised it would. Asking HYDRA for those subjects, he was told to get his own, they needed to make sure that they would not be wasting their recourses. Being rejected made him angry, but he was going to make sure this continued. Knowing he could not kidnap anyone, he needed to lay low, and HYDRA wasn’t going to supply him with anyone he had two choices. Gemma or his son. Matthew not wanting to harm his heir, Matthew chose to try it on his daughter, who was only seven at the time. Once everything had been hooked up, he and a few scientists take Gemma from her bed and strapped her down to the chair.

Gemma not understanding began to struggle, though this soon stopped as the machine was turned on. Lights began to flicker around the room as a buzz filled her ears and the young girl began to convulse and eyes rolling to the back of her head, arms struggled against the restraints and screams filled the room. Though they fell on deaf and uncaring ears, this was all in the name of science. As the electrical pulses surged through her burns began to form on her temples, the current being too high and the chair not being safe for such a young mind. This continued for minutes as it mapped everything about the seven-year-old girl’s brain. Moments before the process had ended Gemma’s body gave out and she laid in the chair unmoving. Her eyes had become glossy and she knew nothing, not even her name. Unlike most of the dolls who came before her, Gemma’s memories were not stored. So the first seven years of her life are gone, anyone, she might have known or things she might have seen were just… GONE.

Once Gemma regained consciousness the questions began, and bright lights were shinned in her eyes. Though she knew none of the answers to what they asked, they continued. The scientists took their notes and Gemma was returned to her room, frightened and alone. Head throbbing Gemma knew nothing, it wasn’t until the next morning when she was finally told what her name was. When she had asked what happened she was told she was given ’a treatment’ and that these things would help her, not remembering much she trusted it. This process continued for years, memories were made, changed, and replaced. Each time the burns on her temples becoming more and more pronounced, and the effects had begun to show. Once Gemma was proven a success, the project was given the go-ahead, more people were tested on. HYDRA becoming more please with the outlook, they began to visit the house more. Sometimes even sitting in on Gemma’s ‘treatments’. Each time Gemma’s screams and pleads being ignored.

While the scientists did not think about the side effects, Gemma began to feel them. They were slow at first, a headache here and there but it soon began to worsen. One day while sitting in her room she noticed her left side began to become weak, and she could not feel anything. Panicking she tried to get help but they ignored her and dismissed her, after this Gemma collapsed and slept for nearly forty-eight hours. After waking she remembered things she had not before, these instances continued the rest of her childhood. Each time she was put in the chair only made it worse. When Gemma found out what they had been doing to her she ran away and chose to live on the streets rather than be some experiment. Even though Gemma had escaped, others were not so lucky, and her father continued to work on the chair. Most likely perfecting it, hurting countless people in the process. **

It was when she was on the streets that Gemma began to learn how to handle the headaches. Gemma began to realize that if she was around certain frequencies of sounds or flashing bright lights (STROBE LIGHTS) she would begin to feel the headache and numbing feeling. After finding out what triggered her, Gemma would actively try to avoid them, though sometimes she was not so lucky. But even though Gemma avoids these as best she can, she can not escape the damage to her brain. Now and then Gemma will begin to feel an intense headache followed by numbness and weakness on the left side of her body. After some time she usually faints and when she wakes she either has lost days, months, and sometimes years of memories. If she is extremely unlucky she even goes to a blank slate. Learning how to combat this is something Gemma continues to learn to do, some tricks she has learned are to put little notes in random places with names and such to try to jog her memory. But for now, Gemma has no idea how to stop this from continuing or how to fix it.

(okay that was a lot i know but i hope that all made sense.) **Gemma’s father is still alive and working on the chair, she wants to kill him but just hasn’t had the chance yet.

[universestreasures]

@blasterdiablo​​ Sent: An 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 Sentence Starter (Accepting!)

❝  i  mean  it  was  nice  on  the  hanger,  but  it  looks  even  better  on  you.  ❞ [@ Misaki Broken verseee

The Queen of Heart’s unbirthday. 

Arguably the most important holiday in the Wonderland calendar, and one Kai had been spending weeks preparing for. Not that she herself was keen on celebrating it. It was a day that used to hold happy memories for her, but they weren’t the same without all of her loved ones to celebrate it with her. Her mother, her father, her uncle, Ren...all of them were gone from her life in one way or another, whether taken from her by humans clad in blue, by unknown reasons, or by madness that came with taking one’s assigned role. The celebration didn’t feel the same without them there, so why should she even care?

Though, this years celebration was...different than the years before. Kai had been there when she woke up, giving her the special unbirthday breakfast she used to enjoy when she was younger but remained once again untouched aside from a few bites of jelly toast and some black coffee. It was only after breakfast that he suddenly...left her side, leaving a card guard to escort her through the schedule for the day until he comes back from whatever the urgent thing he needed to do was. 

The entire thing was odd. Was he planning some kind of unbirthday surprise? Like how her parents and Uncle Shin used to? She didn’t know, but as the day went on she couldn’t help but start to feel...worried. It was an emotion she had not felt in so long. Why would she need to when Kai and Miwa took care of everything for her? But with things being so...uncertain at this moment, with the day getting closer and closer to shifting until the night, she couldn’t help but feel such a thing strongly. 

And she wasn’t taking it well.

It was on display throughout the day, but especially apparent during her fitting with the Mad Hatter.  Normally she stood still and quiet during these, like a mannequin or a doll. However, her usually cold body started to get warmer, her body was sweating, and she was irritated by the the lace of the pair of gloves he had made for her. The entire thing was overwhelming, not surprising since her heart had been closed off and cold for so many years now. 

❝  i  mean  it  was  nice  on  the  hanger,  but  it  looks  even  better  on  you.  ❞

The voice of the Hatter draws Misaki’s attention away from her irritation, shifting her gaze from the broken clock in the room towards him. He had gone on with his fitting like nothing was wrong, despite the fact something was obviously wrong! If Kai or Miwa were here, they’d surely notice. They always noticed how she was feeling, even without words needing to be spoken. And without them here, without their support, that loneliness she’s long since feared would consume her starts to as she is forced to rely on herself to fix things. Guess it was time for her to start acting like a queen, then.  

“Knock it off...” Her voice is low, but the power behind it made up for the low volume. Hands move to grip at the ends of the laced gloves, Misaki showing no restraint as she uses all her might to tear them off of her body. The queen showed no care for the work he put into the clothing with her display, despite the beauty of the clothes themselves. She just wanted it off and wanted it off fast, her instincts driving her to be the complete opposite of what her usual demeaner was: to be big and loud so that others will listen. 

Seems like the day had come...where her destiny was to finally take it’s grip on her, the very thing Kai’s efforts had been delaying this entire time in an effort to keep her stable...

And there was no turning back this clock...no matter how hard the White Rabbit may try...

“I SAID KNOCK IT OFF! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!”

The ground shakes at her words, Misaki releasing a red wave of energy from the center of her heart that rips some of the fabric off of her and then shoots throughout Wonderland to be seen by all. Dull red roses that covered the castle garden suddenly became much more vibrant, along with every single other red object in the land. Color had returned for the first time in ages, a sign the citizens might take as that things were finally shifting towards returning to normal after years of stagnation. Little did they know that the changes were only just beginning, for both them and the Queen of Hearts.

The young woman now clad in a torn dress due to her power breathes heavily, sweat dripping down her face as a hand is placed over her heart.  For the first time in ages, she takes notice of her heartbeat. It was moving, painfully so, but still moving strong. And it felt...felt odd...

“What...What is this...This feeling...” She speaks, but more to herself than to the other in the room. Her gaze then shifts to the other human, her expression twisting from one of confusion to one of angered desperation. “Answer me, Hatter! What’s...What’s happening to me?! Why does...Why does my chest...hurt so much? And where is...”

Water soon forms in her eyes, another display that had been absent from the Queen since the early days after the incident. Legs buckle beneath her as she drops to the ground in the center of the Hatter’s workshop. She...She was breaking like glass when too much pressure was being placed on it, but...just how much could she take? 

“And where is Kai?! Where is my rabbit?! Why...Why isn’t here here?! When...When I need him!”

~

[warsinmyhead]

[Musing] Can't Forget You

Maryse had asked Magnus to wipe the girl's memory before she went back to California, despite Jonah's protests. The former dissuaded him from trying to see Briggs before she left Korea, saying it was for the best.

He had plenty to keep him busy – after all, the rogue monsters weren't going to stop what they were doing any time soon – but he sort of missed the small Mundie. Their interactions had been brief before he rescued her from the half demon, but he could still see her bright eyes looking at him when he showed up, her shy smile when he called her "baby girl", and how excited she would get about her little translation device making a difference in the world.

Shortly after she left, he passed stores and companies who carried and promoted the translation device, often looking in windows to see people testing them out and looking surprised, but excited when it translated phrases immediately into other languages without much hesitation.

Izzy took some pity on him and mentioned that Emma from the California institute was asking for a transfer to Korea, citing she wanted a change in scenery. Jonah volunteered to swap places with her on a exchange, and he packed his bags for a half year stay in California.

Jonah didn't hold his breath though, knowing that the chances of running into Briggs again was unlikely, and she probably didn't remember him at all.

As he hoisted one of his bags higher on his shoulder, he passed Magnus and nodded at the warlock in gratitude for the portal. Jonah began to step through it and frowned when he didn't see the Institute in front of him. Instead, it looked like a parking structure for some outdoor shopping mall in Los Angeles.

He turned to look back at Magnus in confusion and the warlock leaned closer to say, "A little detour – you could use a mindless break I think."

Jonah didn't have time to question it as he was nudged forward and the portal closed quickly behind him. He looked around and saw no one else was around, and shook his head as he looked for an elevator or escalator to get out of the structure.

Upon descending the final escalator of multiple floors in the structure, he exited into the outdoor mall and carefully wove his way through the crowds of people who were trying to find their cars or make their way to some of the shops and restaurants. He noticed a sign said he was at The Grove.

"...he's pretty cute..."

"I was thinking he's more Bridge's type."

"I don't have a–"

The voice made him snap his head around in the direction it came from and he saw a small group of girls standing by the movie theater talking to each other. The one on the left looked back at him and his skin prickled when he saw who it was.

The other two girls excused themselves and pushed the third girl towards Jonah, leaving the pair alone.

Jonah swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly approached her. "How's it going?"

The girl looked up at him and she shook her head with a laugh. "Too bad you didn't tell me you were coming to my area, I could have shared a flight with you Nightcross."

Wait, she said his last name!

His eyes widened as he stared back at her. "You, you know me?"

Briggs tilted her head and nodded. "Of course, you're Jonah, AKA the guy I accidentally tested my device on, but it was useless because you're fluent and perfect in English already. I accidentally opened a door and hit you with it. And –"

Jonah found himself wrapping his arms around her and he buried his face in her hair. "I missed you, baby girl."

@fatcdrcam

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures. 

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can. 

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[looseleafteeaves]

Oritemi Saves the Forgotten

(Note, Kikɔpelim is a servant of the evil spirit of the masters/slave owners "patron". The Me'eri believe him to be the source of greed and evil.)

Gather and listen, young ones. For we seek the light and the water, and this story will show you the way.

Oritemi, remembering the task assigned to them by Pelsi, raced across the surface of Mivena. As they did this, they came across a mountain steeped in the greed of the Kikɔpelim who resided at the peak.

This Kikɔpelim was strange- not only was there the Me'eri trapped underneath, but there were a handful of Me'eri forced to dance and follow him about at all times. So, Oritemi disguised themself as one of these dancers and followed unnoticed by the Kikɔpelim.

"Young Me'eri, why do you dance for him?" The strange Me'eri did not seem to notice Oritemi speaking. This troubled them, and they came closer. The dancers seemed to be lost in a fog of confusion, unable to respond or speak to one another.

Oritemi's concern grew greater, and they fled from that place. Oritemi flew, running feet passing over the compound and darting through any crack they could find, untill they found the Dive that always led to the Me'eri. Oritemi didn't even pause as they dove into the deep dark hole that had gobbled so many of Mivena's people.

They whistled, a tune like note as they fell, darting into one of the branching tunnels that led to the Me'eri's home.

"Oh tunnel-bound Me'eri! I have brought to you seeds and stories as Pelsi bids!"

Immediately, the Me'eri began to step outwards, gathering in the rough stone hall. Oritemi passed around seeds and laughed as they mentioned that Lotarima and Korevian had danced together in the sky once again.

As Oritemi finished dispersing what they had brought, they grew quiet. They pondered what they had seen and finally, as the Storyteller approached, asked the burning question.

"Storyteller, who are the Me'eri trapped with the Kikɔpelim on the surface? Why do they not flee towards the light? Why do they not hear me speak?"

Storyteller, wise beyond her few years, sighed gently. "Oh, Oritemi. I am so sorry you must learn the hardest lesson from me. Those Me'eri are the Forgotten. The most beautiful of us- when the Kikɔpelim come and examine everyone, are taken. They are stolen from us, and we are powerless to stop them. We watch, as before our very eyes, they are forced to forget everything. Who they are. Who we are. Our language. Our beliefs. They are drowned by the Kikɔpelim inside their souls, and so far, we have been unable to save a single one."

Oritemi is shocked, and horrified by this. "Storyteller, how can I help the forgotten? They do not seem to know me when I walk amongst their midst, or to understand me when I speak. I was so bold, trying to speak with them, that I danced before Kikɔpelim!"

Storyteller, tawny eyes sad, looked at them. "Temi, They are kept from any memories. The Kikɔpelim erase them often until the Forgotten is no longer beautiful. Then they send them to a new mine, never the one they came from, because if they remember the secrets of the Kikɔpelim, the Me'eri could destroy them. We help the Forgotten who are given to us. It is all we may do."

Oritemi accepted this, heart hurting. They danced back up the tunnels and located the Pekolo. They took the form of a mine bird and flitted into the branches to think.

"How can I help the Forgotten? For surely, even if Mama, Mapa, and Papa have forgotten them, I can do something." And so Oritemi looked around. Suddenly, they save a small chip of stone, with a hole perfect for string to hang around.

Oritemi blinked and grinned, alighting on the ground in human form.

"They have forgotten themselves," they thought. "They need something that will give them at least that. " And so, Oritemi began to carve.

Four lines capped with swirls traced the diamond stone. It surrounded a place perfectly spaced to carve a name.

"I cannot do much. But I can show them the way." Oritemi said to themself. "I can show them how to find themself."

And in a flash, Oritemi flew to Storyteller.

"Sister, I need to know a name I can share to one of the Forgotten! I am small, and tricky and all I can offer is a path forwards to find themselves."

Storyteller, face aging backwards with her grin, leaned forwards. "Oritemi, I name you the Namekeeper. Find one whom to you looks like they are named for the night flowers, Nem'ir. Give them the Name Stone, and watch them discover the path."

Namekeeper, Oritemi, grasped the carved stone and leaped for the light. They flew through the fortress, until they came upon the most beautiful of the Forgotten who resided there.

"Nem'ir, Ne'mir, I name thee Nem'ir! Dance in the suns and run by the moons, Nem'ir I shall always follow you!"

The beautiful Forgotten still did not seem to hear them. Oritemi alighted in front of him, holding the Name Stone dangling from their beak. They hopped forwards, as the Forgotten stared at them.

Oritemi repeated the hopping twice more before the Forgotten curiously reached a hand out.

Oritemi dropped the name stone in his hand, chirped "Nem'ir, Nem'ir, I name thee Nem'ir! Dance in the suns and run by the moons, Nem'ir I shall always follow you!" Before flying off.

The newly named Nem'ir held the stone before he seemed to blink into awareness.

"Nem'ir... I am... Nem'ir?"

With a sigh, Oritemi should have know the path didn't appear instantly, they watched him put the necklace on.

So this remained for several days. Oritemi began to lose hope when Nem'ir suddenly sang a little song to themself.

"Oritemi temi, Oritemi temi Sunrise and Moonfall, dance the paths and wander the ways, I will follow you."

And Oritemi laughed and ran past Kikɔpelim, who cursed and called for gaurds for Kikɔpelim would never drown Nem'ir again.

They named the nameless, and remembered the Forgotten.

The Namekeeper remembers them all.

I have shown you the light and the way, now go.

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

Taglist: @immyowndefender @tojigirl @paninisstuff @serving-targaryen-realness @aphroditesblunt @thedazzlingburglar @technicallyannoyingninja

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85 @fluffly @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @nyenye @savagemickey03  @watercolorskyy

For some reason tumblr won't let me tag them: @arabis-world @Snileykiddie08 @Bugheadskid @nzygftoji @lauufeysonnn @missusnora @sabi127 @cicaspair418 @tojigirl

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[alien-magnolia]

You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.