#what am i supposed to do with that. what do you want me to do.

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Make Food for You

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, kissing, making food, teasing

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I already wrote this on my old blog but now is a good time to re-write it.

Jinx knows how to cook pretty well, surprisingly enough. Or maybe not so surprisingly given how she's always the one making things and experimenting. However that also means she might make some really weird meals.

It's something you'll have to deal with if you're with her and might have to develop a strong stomach. She already has it because she grew up in Zaun and ate a lot of different things. For you she wouldn't recommend some of them yet and she will try her best to make something that you'll like. And she won't get too offended if you don't eat her cooking right away.

"I made ya some breakfast, ta-da! It's a little sticky but don't worry, eat your fill and I'll clean up the mess later. Don't look at it like that, it might not look pretty but I promise ya it's so good. I could eat this every day. I hope I'll get to eat it together it with ya every day, sugar."

Vi doesn't know how to cook because she never had the opportunity to learn. The first few dishes are bad, like really bad, almost burn the toast and eggs type of bad but Vi she isn't the kind of person to give up. She'll keep trying until she gets it right.

There have been times where she did burn things and she won't let you eat it since it's not right. She wants you to have the best of the best, even if she didn't. Might get a little distracted when you're in the kitchen with her so she prefers to cook by herself even if you're there with her. Regardless of how many times she gets it wrong she at least wants to learn to cook your favorite.

"Yes, this is burned toast but this time it's not my fault, it's yours. Well you're the one who walked in here looking all cute and distracted me. One kiss is all it takes if it's from you, sweet stuff. Sit down and let me do this right and if you do you'll get something sweeter than this."

Caitlyn knows how to cook really well. She did grow up with people doing the cooking for her however she was curious and wanted to learn how to do it on her own. She's a very hand-on learner, now she can use some of her skills to make you happy.

She gets up really early anyways so she might as well make breakfast for the both of you. The first time she brings you breakfast in bed she thinks your reaction is cute, the way you stare at her, eyes wide and drooling over the food. For her it's not odd to have breakfast in bed. And if you stick with her you'll get used to her pampering you. Be sure to tell her how the food tastes.

"Good morning, darling, I brought you something. See, I didn't just brag about my cooking skills, this is me showing you I can cook. Showing off? Suppose I am a little bit, it's not my fault you didn't really think I would bring you breakfast in bed."

Maddie can cook some dishes but she can cook them well. Her skills aren't anything impressive but they don't need to be because she can get take out too. But she is more than happy to share what ever she makes with you.

She falls back on take out more often than she would like to admit. However not when she invites you over to her place, then she will put her best foot forward. A lot of that is because she wants to impress you hard, but it also gets her to work on her skills either way she wins. She keeps looking at you very intently while you take that first bite. Thankfully she doesn't seem to do a bad job if your smile is anything to go by.

"I'm not weird for watching you eat, it's called being smitten, gorgeous. Anything you do is interesting to me, you know that by now. This isn't empty flattery. I already got you to eat my cooking, I don't need to butter you up at this point."

Ekko isn't the best cook out there, he will be completely honest with you. While he does know the basic things you can't really expect anything fancy. If anything he focuses more on the dish being filling than tasty.

The thing about him cooking for the two of you is that he can only do it on his free time, which isn't a lot. Therefore he wants to make it a bonding activity. A cute date of sorts, mostly in the late evening when the rest of work is done. Sometimes he will try to surprise you but its hard when his living space isn't that big and everyone knows everything in the Firelights. The gesture counts.

"There wasn't much time so it's pretty simple, but at least it's your favorite, Firefly. No, I actually finished the new project, I had extra time to kill. Please, don't thank me! It seemed only right for me to make you something after you cheered me up this morning."

Vander knows how to cook really, really well. He kids to raise, and he was on his own for a very long time, he had to become a good cook. Plus he makes awesome drinks, being a good cook was a bonus skill for him.

He's always the first one to wake up and start the day in the Last Drop and he always makes breakfast for everyone. Not just breakfast but every meal, his kids need to eat a lot, there's always a little left over for later. Even if he feels a little sleepy himself he at least wants to put something on the table. It's the dad instincts in him. And husband instincts, hopefully.

"Don't ya even think about sneaking up on me right now, darlin'. I've got a pan full of sizzling hot oil in my hand, I don't want it all over us. Hugs are fine, I always love ya being close to me, but keep your hands to yourself. We both know ya get handsy in the morning."

Silco didn't know how to cook before he adopted Jinx, since then he's had to learn. It wasn't easy but now he does know a lot and he can impress the woman he's dating. Now when you stay over you can expect good for for your date, and good food when you wake up.

When the dating gets more serious he lets you help him cook, but until then he pretty much does it on his own. Jinx will go nowhere near the kitchen alone, not after that one explosion. He does have a list of recipes that he makes the most. And a few that he made up. Sometimes ingredients are hard to come by so he needs to improvise.

"Pass me the flour would you, love? This time I will follow the recipe, yes, the last time there was a bit too much sugar in there. I know you liked it but it's not the healthiest thing now is it? Fine, call me a worried dad, I know you think it's attractive."

Sevika isn't able too cook that well, she never was, she always liked others cooking for her though. However when you tease her about it she takes it as a challenge. And you know damn well that she doesn't back down from a challenge.

Curses a lot when she messes up, though you can bet that she's not gonna let food be the thing that beats her. When you walk into the kitchen it's a mess which will take a while to clean up. But at least she managed to make the dish this time and it's quite good. For her hard work you give her a very passionate kiss and that just makes her wanna work harder. That's the best reward she can ask for.

"One kiss for at that work, doll? I think I earned myself a little more than that, maybe you on the table instead of all this food. Yeah, I know it's gonna get cold, you're right. Can't let all this hard work go to waste, but when we're done we have to work all that food off."

Viktor doesn't have as much time to cook as he could if he worked a bit less. Not that his skills are award worthy but he can make a few things, at least in his opinion. Give his cooking a chance.

When he was a student in the academy he had to learn how to make quick meals and that is where most of his strength is. Just very simple dishes but he knows how to make them well. There are times when he himself forgets to eat so he makes sure he gets a good meal when he can. If you're part of that that's even better. Having you eat his cooking makes cooking more fun.

"If you think cooking this is so easy then you make it will you, beautiful? Ah so now you like it, I see how it is. I'm just kidding, I love making food for you when I can. But if you want to make it yourself please let me do a taste test first. I promise to be brutally honest, just like you are with me."

Jayce has absolutely no skills in the kitchen unless you need him to fix or build things in there. He knows this too and will admit it right away. Trust him he is much better in science than in cooking food.

That being said he will join you in the kitchen when you cook. He takes an interest in it because the way you cook makes his mouth water. When he learns about what your favorite food is he wants to lean how to cook it. However he does this in secret because he wants to surprise you. Sure enough he's able to get the biggest smile out of you when he presents you with your favorite meal.

"I learned it secretly, all for you, babe. Well I am quite good with my hands and I enjoy working, that was just another excuse to learn. Of course I don't have an ulterior motive for it! But if I did... and if it was kissing... would you kiss me for doing a good job?"

Mel is actually an amazing cook and knows a ton of recipes. Including your favorites of course. Do you really think she'd invite you over and offer you nothing to eat?

It's been a long time since she had to cook for anyone but herself but she's not bad at it at all. She has high standards when it comes to good food specifically because she holds herself to high standards. It doesn't matter how simple or complicated the meal is. When she invites you over and offers to make you food you better believe you're eating good that night. Not strictly food either.

"Beloved, slow down a little, the food isn't going anywhere and neither am I. We have all night. Every time I make food I do so because I want to enjoy a good meal, and you should too. And please be careful, I don't want you to choke, on the food that is."

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.4k

-

a/n: first series! it won’t be super long, but I hope you enjoy. send requests for more fics!

-

“Matt, you can’t back out now!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at your best friend where he lays on his bed, setting his phone down to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, love, something came up and I can’t make it,” he apologizes, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get out of it.”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You had a family wedding to attend and already RSVP’d with a plus one, which was supposed to be your best friend Matt, who had lovingly agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Your family was super invasive about you getting a boyfriend, and you wanted to avoid all of the comments and questions by just pretending to have a boyfriend for one night at the wedding, but your plan was falling apart.

“What am I supposed to do? I already told everyone I was coming with somebody, they’re gonna know I was lying if I show up by myself,” you tell him, trying to rack your brain for any ideas.

“You could bring Nick,” Matt suggests, picking his phone back up and going back to scrolling.

You scoff. “Yeah right, like Nick could pretend to be straight for an entire night. He’d be caught in less than an hour.” You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Matt. “I’m gonna have to go on, like, Bumble or something and find some random to go with me.”

Matt looks up at you over his phone, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he starts to speak. “I mean… I know one other guy you could ask.”

You tilt your head, excited to hear the suggestion, before you realize who he’s talking about and your eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “Absolutely not,” you put your hands up, pointer fingers crossed over in an X. “I am not asking Chris, no way.”

Matt raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I told you I knew someone, I didn’t say you’d like what I said.”

You roll your eyes. “He would never say yes to me anyway, even if I did want to ask him.”

Matt shrugs. “Maybe. You could always bribe him, he loves a good bribe.”

You think about it for another moment, knowing it would be easier to get Chris to do it than it would to find some random guy to go to a wedding as a first date, but the thought of spending an entire night next to Chris made your skin crawl.

The two of you had never really gotten along, even with you being around as much as you were, you guys never clicked, in fact it was the complete opposite, always insulting each other any chance you got, ignoring each other, and always avoiding being in the same room by yourself, even if only for a few moments.

“I mean… I could try but I really can’t promise I won’t kill your brother, Matt,” you half joke, but not really. “Might turn you into a twin.”

“That’s fucked,” Matt laughs, using his foot to kick you lightly. “I‘ll still be a triplet, even if you kill him. I’ll just be a triplet with severe depression and no will no live.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him through a laugh. “Your life would be so much quieter, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d secretly thank me for killing him.”

Matt shakes his head at you with a smile, though his eyes tell you he thinks you’re crazy, before looking back down at his phone.

“Killing who?” A voice sounds from the doorway and you look up to see the man of the hour staring back at you, a disinterested look on his face.

“You,” you smile sweetly up at Chris.

“That’s nice,” he says, flashing you a fake, tight lipped smile before turning to his brother. “Hey, can you take me to go get food?”

Matt groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes. “But I’m so comfortable,” he whines.

You take a deep breath and consider your options. Chris, who you hate but have known for years, or a random guy who might be a serial killer? You’d definitely be safer with Chris, but the thought of having to be near him without his brothers for an entire night seemed like hell. Especially having to act like you were pleased to be in his presence.

“I’ll take you,” you speak before you can stop yourself.

Both Matt and Chris look at you with shocked expressions, Chris having a bit of disgust in his eyes.

“I’d rather starve, thanks,” Chris replies. “Matt, c’mon seriously, can you take me?” He asks again.

“Chris,” you say in a stern voice, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. “Let me take you. I need to talk to you.”

Chris watches you walk past him through the doorway and then looks back at Matt, shooting him a confused look, to which his brother just shrugs, before he leaves to follow you, finding you by the front door slipping your crocs on.

“The fuck is this about?” He asks, trotting down the stairs to meet you by the front door. “You in love with me or some shit?”

You look up at him with an unamused expression. “You wish I was in love with you.” You huff. “I told you, I gotta talk to you.”

You open the front door and head outside towards your car, opening the drivers side door. You look behind you and see Chris standing in the doorway, staring after you. “I’ll buy your food,” you tell him, and he immediately shuts the door behind him and walks up to your car. “You should’ve led with that!” He says.

You both get in your car and you start driving. “Where do you want to go?” You ask him, turning your head to see him on his phone. “Chris,” you push, reaching out to smack his phone out of his hand, causing it to land on the floor.

“What the fuck, dude. Unnecessary.” Chris huffs, reaching down to grab his phone, but he tucked it between his legs instead of going back on it. “I don’t know, McDonald’s?”

You groan. “You always get McDonald’s. Can’t we get like Popeyes or something?”

Chris looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Well I didn’t know you were gonna eat, too, jesus. Sure, Popeyes is fine.” He goes for his phone again, but you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him.

“Wait,” you start. “I actually do need to talk to you.”

Chris sighs and puts his phone away in his pocket completely, looking over at you. “Okay, spit it out then.”

You flash a glare at him quickly before returning your eyes to the road. “So… Matt was going to be my plus one for a wedding I’m going to, but he can’t go anymore because something came up, and I can’t ask Nick because he’s gay and that just won’t work, and so that just leaves you.” You tell him nervously.

“So what if he’s gay, your family homophobic or something?” Chris asks, annoyance lacing his voice.

You sigh and pull into the Popeyes parking lot, pulling into a spot and throwing the car into park before you turn your body to face Chris. “No, they’re not homophobic. It’s just… I kind of told them I was bringing a boyfriend.”

Chris stares at you for a moment before laughing, completely unserious. “You? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you’re lying to your family about having a boyfriend.”

You don’t laugh though, you just drop your eyes down to your lap, knowing that this was exactly how the conversation would go.

“Wait a minute, that means you want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend? Fuck no, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. Forget it, dude, you’re shit outta luck with me.” Chris shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

You nod and start backing out of the spot, heading towards the drive-thru. “Yeah I figured that was how you’d respond,” you murmur.

You guys order your food, and you still pay for it, staying true to your word, before heading home. It was a quick but quiet ride back, both of you getting out of the car without a word, not even a ‘thank you’ shot your way. You take your shoes off and head back up to Matt’s room, seeing him in the same position you left him in, only now he was watching a movie, and you got in his bed to join him with your food.

“How’d it go?” He asked, reaching out to steal one of your fries.

“Exactly how I expected it to go. He laughed in my face and said he’d rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to be my boyfriend,” you tell Matt, looking down at him from where you sat.

Matt smiles up at you, reaching out to pat your leg. “Sorry, kid. You tried.”

You nod and look up at the tv screen, starting to eat your dinner.

-

The next day, you’re sitting on your couch panting your toes and watching your favorite comfort show when you hear the doorbell ring, startling you as you weren’t expecting anybody over today. You look down at your toes and swear under your breath, seeing that you smeared polish along your skin.

You set down the polish on the table and stand up, walking to your door and pulling it open, jaw dropping in shock when you come face to face with Chris, the last person you expected to show up at your door unannounced. You almost wanted to rub your eyes in case you were mistaking him for another triplet, but you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you.

“Chris?” You question. “How did you get here?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I ubered?” He says like it’s obvious. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You take a step back and let him into your house, shutting the door behind him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say, sitting back down on your couch. He follows and sits at the opposite end, looking over at you.

He ignores your question, watching you as you continue to do your toes, cleaning up the mess you made. “Why not just get your toes done?” He asks.

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “Costs money? Why spend money when I can sit around and do it myself?” You go back to painting your toes. “Why are you here?”

Chris shrugs. “Been thinking about what you said yesterday, about the wedding.”

You stop what you’re doing and put the polish back down, turning your attention on Chris completely. “Did you change your mind?” You ask him.

He sighs and licks his lips before speaking. “Consider it my charity for the year,” he smiles, tilting his head at you. “But I need a small favor from you.”

“A favor in return isn’t charity, Chris, it’s like… eye for an eye or whatever.” You look at him deadpan. Of course he’d want something in return, he could never do something for you out of the goodness of his heart.

“Whatever, dude, you want my help or not?” Chris asks. “If not I’ll just leave, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You huff and give in. “Fine. What’s the favor?” You ask him.

He pulls out his phone, scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “There’s this girl that will not stop hitting me up and she’s driving me crazy. I told her I’m not interested, I’ve ignored her messages, I even blocked her on snap to see if she’d get the hint but she still texts me every day.” He shows you all of the unanswered messages and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit, what does this girl see in you?” You laugh, reading how desperate she was for Chris.

“Funny,” Chris replies, unamused.

“What does this have to do with me?” You ask him, looking back up at his face.

“I think it’s only fair if I pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding, you pretend to be my girlfriend on social media. Only for a few weeks or until she stops messaging me. Plus, you’re way hotter than her. ” Chris tells you, and by the tone of his voice, he’s completely serious.

You feel heat rising up your neck and you try to get it under control before your cheeks turn red. “You think I’m hot?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Not the point,” he replies.

“So you tell me that you would rather be single for the rest of your life than pretend to be my boyfriend, and now you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You clarify, and he just nods, like it’s no big deal. “Pretending to be together at an event is one thing, but you want to take photos to look like a couple? That’s a little… intimate don’t you think?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a big boy, you’re a big girl. Don’t think you can handle a little physical touch without falling for me?” He smirks, leaning in closer to you.

You grimace and reach up to push his shoulder away. “Gross, dude. I could have sex with you and still not fall in love with you and your terrible personality.”

Chris gasps, fake shocked, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am a very good lover, why do you think this girl won’t stop texting me?”

Your eyes widen. “You had sex with her?!” You shriek. “Chris, no wonder she keeps blowing your shit up!”

Chris groans and throws his head back, leaning it on the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be a one time thing, I don’t know why she’s so hung up on me!”

You find yourself giggling a bit before you stop and clear your throat, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of making you laugh. You compose yourself and shake your head, clearly disappointed in the boy across from you. “Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but no kissing! I draw the line at kissing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, I don’t want to kiss you,” Chris cringes. “So… I guess we should start planning this?”

You nod and smile towards him, placing your hands in your lap as you guys start to figure out how to execute both individual plans.

-

a/n: this chapter is SUPER short but it’s kinda just to get a feel of the fic and how it’s gonna play out. I really hope you guys like this series im so nervous about it!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

Or even where the fuck it is. I'm in so much pain that I don't even notice when I stub my toes or drop something on them. Just finding out what's wrong is so that I can know that what I am going through is real, as so many people like to pretend it's just me doing drug seeking behavior.

I once had a doctor I went to, told him I can't feel my toes due to a hip injury that hasn't been looked into by doctors for two years by that point, and do you want to know what he said to me after wrapping up the appointment? The appointment that was supposed to be me getting an MRI for the first time after three x-rays but was changed to a check-up without my knowledge until he came into the room?

He said "Do you want drugs for your pain?" He asked a person who went to him telling him that after feeling electricity and pins and needles shoot down their entire leg for two years, and was now experiencing a loss of sense of touch. If you want to know what I feel, wear a rubber glove on your foot and walk around and consciously step with that foot. Since I can't feel it all that well, I don't know where it's at so I have to consciously step with that foot. That fucker made me cry when he asked me that question because I knew he just wanted to cop me out for drug seeking behavior.

So that turned into a bit of a rant about my useless doctors, but I promise that we don't want a diagnosis for the 'attention' or for drugs. We're human. We just want to understand why our bodies are betraying us.

Something I want able bodied people to understand is that I don't want a diagnosis cause I wanna be sick so bad; I want a diagnosis because there is already something wrong with my body but I don't know what the fuck it is.

[papaya-twinks]

Idk if this is something weird to request! But I have diagnosed autism, and struggle with so many things because of it, I was wondering if you could write like a lando x autism gf? Maybe where fans make fun of her? Or something! If you’re not comfortable with writing that I understand!🫶

Warnings: I refuse to put autism as a warning. Anyways, crying, mental breakdown.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’d never not be uncomfortable writing about conditions/diseases or anything! ❤️❤️

“Y/N, I’m gonna get to the shops, is there anything you- baby, what’s wrong?” Lando cut himself off, his eyes widening as he walked into the lounge to the sound of your sniffles, your knees pulled to your chest.

“Oh, um, nothing,” you said, wiping your eyes hastily, very nearly poking yourself on the eyes in the process, a fake smile forced onto your face as your boyfriend raised a brow.

“Y/N, give me the phone,” Lando said, his voice half-stern, the authority in his tone making it almost hard to say no. “Lando, I-,” you started, hesitant to hand the device over, especially over what you’d read.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you give me that phone right now,” he said, his voice stern as your shoulder dropped in defeat, handing the phone over begrudgingly. He clucked his tongue, opening it with the password - his birthday.

“Why?” Lando said, his voice calmer and softer now as he sat down beside you, “Baby, why do you do this to yourself, why do you reset this bullshit?” he wrapped an arm round you as your lip quivered again.

“I can’t help it, Lando,” you said, your voice cracking, “people keep making fun of me and I’m trying to seem more normal and-and stuff,” you said, your gaze falling down to the floor, your tears falling.

“I’m trying, okay?! I’m trying to seem like a normal girlfriend and not some person whos weird or a freak!” you almost screamed, quoting what those stupid, stupid people online called you.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Lando yelled, his voice matching, and surpassing yours, as he held your shoulders firmly, snapping you out of your breakdown. “I fucking love you, I don’t give a shit what people say!”.

“I know, but dont you read it? They say I’m a-,” you started again as Lando dug his nails into your shoulder, a hiss on your lips. “Dont you fucking dare! Dont you tell me their stupid bullshit, Y/N,”.

“Im sorry,” you said, your voice cracking, “I just- I struggle doing everyday things and I hate asking for help,” you said, your gaze falling once again as Lando sighed, kissing your forehead.

“Then what am I here for, hm?” he tilted your chin up, “I’m supposed to help you, baby,” he kissed your jaw, trailing his lips up to your cheek, as you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised again, letting him pull you into a hug, holding you til your sniffles died down, slowly rocking your back and forth. “Now what did you want from the shops?” he asked softly.

“Just some crisps or something,” you mumbled. “Yeah, alright,” he nodded, “but I’m taking this,” he pocketed your phone. “If you want to take it,” you shrugged, “I wanna come with you to the shops,”.

“Of course, baby,”.

[fallstaticexit]

Ahhh it's been 65 years, and I feel kinda crazy that I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months. Assuming most readers of Missing Moments are also The Art of Being Seen readers- there's some hefty lore here that will come into play later.

prev/ next

Olive: Time to move on, right Kia?

[phone pings]

Nancy: Hello darling. Do you have a moment to talk?

Olive: Who’s this?

Olive: I don’t recall saying yes.

Nancy: [sighs] It feels so good to hear your voice again.

Olive: I only answered to tell you to block me.

Nancy: I would never.

Olive: Even though I asked?

Nancy: Well. I am incredibly selfish.

Olive: Why did you call me?

Nancy: I would like to see you, Olivia. Please.

Olive: I’m not for sale, sorry.

Nancy: I know. I wouldn’t want to meet on those terms again. If I could do it all over, I would have asked you to have dinner with me when I met you. I would have courted you properly, Olivia.

Olive: [scoffs] You would have gone to a strip club and asked a stripper to have dinner with you? Seriously? When would we have ever met under any other circumstance? It’s been made very clear to me how different we are. The only way this would have happened was if it were a fairy tale.

Nancy: What matters is, I have met you. I’ve experienced you and I can’t go back. My husband- my ex husband- he signed the petition for our divorce. I came out to him- officially. It’s over.

Olive: [stunned] That’s- that’s great. I am so happy for you-

Nancy: I’m leaving all of it. I’m starting over. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.

Olive: [sighs]

Nancy: Let’s just have one dinner and after we’ve talk, then you can decide. There’s so much I want to say, but I want to look you in the eyes as I say it.

Olive: One dinner?

Nancy: One dinner.

Nancy: May I see you tonight? I’ll send my driver and I’ll cook for you at my place. Anything you like.

Olive: Tonight is fine.. sure.

Nancy: [sighs happily] It’ll be hard not to kiss you the moment I see you-

Olive: Not too much, lover girl. It’s one dinner and I’m still very annoyed with you about all this, ok?

Nancy: Yes, my love. I’ll see you tonight.

Olive: And don’t look at me like that. It’s just dinner and a conversation, ok? I am not going to sleep with her ok?

Malcolm: Well. Now I see why my mother was so willing to ruin an entire empire over you. Those mugshots did you no justice.

Olive: What is this? Where’s Nancy?

Malcolm: I noticed our driver was heading this way, I figured I’d tag along. Sight see. Get in. Let’s chat.

Malcolm: I wonder if this feels like dejavu to my mother. She makes yet another thoughtless mistake and someone comes along to make it all go away. She has a nasty habit of that, you know.

Olive: Listen. I’m not feeling whatever family drama you all have going on. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Nancy.

Malcolm: I was raised by a narcissistic liar and a spineless coward. If I let this company fall apart, then wouldn’t it all had been for nothing?

Olive: [scoffs] So you want pity? I’m suppose to pity you? Give me a break.

Malcolm: Not pity, no. If anything, I pity you.

Olive: Is that right?

Malcolm: When it comes to success, you pale in comparison to your half siblings. You’ve financially crippled your parents in legal fees since your arrest and all you have to show for it is by shaking ass in a low end strip club in the Spice District. That’s right, I know alot about you Olivia Briar.

Malcolm: I know about that quaint little family of yours down in the country. I know about your niece’s struggling restaurant and her undocumented partner. Funny, he’s able to acquire loans under a fake name but there’s no records of a Noa Briar anywhere. I wonder what else your family is hiding.

Olive: [shaken] What is this about? Are you threatening me? What the fuck do you want?

Malcolm: I’m here to help you, not hurt you. One of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned was the power of the dollar. I can make a lot of your problems go away with one deposit if you do just one thing.

Olive: [softly] ....What?

Malcolm: We’re going to turn around and park in front of your building. You’re going to go upstairs, pack up your things and then, you’re going to go back home to sweet old Henford. You’ll pay your parents back with the money you’ll receive from this arrangement and you’ll help your niece and nephew. All your problems - poof- gone.

Malcolm: All you have to do is walk away, and stay away. You see, my mother has a nasty debt to this family she still needs to pay. Don’t make it your burden.

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The silence that permeates the car you were shuffled into with your husband is suffocating.

Your life partner had let go of your hand the moment he had reached to buckle you into your seat. You strain your fingers now, hoping the sweat on your palms hadn't been noticeable.

A driver from your clan's estate had been tasked with dropping you and your husband off at your newly arranged space. You knew this man, the man who was seated directly to your left, was not affiliated with any clan, this meant you had no idea where you were headed.

Several shipments of your belongings had been retrieved over the weeks since the higher-up's declaration of marriage for you had been in place. A steady and simple move-in awaited you. Something you weren't particularly happy about.

You thought through a list of things to occupy yourself with instead of awkwardly standing in this stranger mans presence.

As curious as you were about your future arrangements, you truly could not ignore the silence in this vehicle much longer. Had you married any of the expected bachelors, you were sure your ear would be talked off at this point, yet, you did not even know this mans name.

You took in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the blonde fellow, (your literal husband) turned to meet your eyes, likely having expected you to say something. His eyes shock you, and you turn away once more to stare out the window.

You strain your hand into a fist and work up the courage. Turning with an inhale once more, you force out words before you can change your mind, "Terribly sorry..." You start, looking him in the eyes, "Could you remind me of your name?"

You had never been given it to begin with. Perhaps the officiant at your wedding had recited it in his speech, but you had been a little distracted at the time.

"I'm sorry?" He strains his neck in your direction, eyebrows raised.

"Your name? Sorry... I think I ought to know it, right?"

"You don't know my name?" His head shakes a little as he speaks, incredulous.

You hesitate, "...No? I wasn't paying the most attention for it during the ceremony..." You mumble the last bit, waiting for him to cut you off, but he just stares at you.

"I'm sorry-" His hand hovers mid-air, "You weren't given my name?"

Oh no, you've offended him.

"Oh! It's not like that! My family is....very fond of you! And the higher-ups speak very well of you as well! I...well...I erm..." How do you fix this? Stroke his ego?

His hand is firmly on his forehead now. "That is not what I meant. I'm asking you - you were not informed of my name? Who I am? Were you even aware you were to be wed?"

You fumble a bit with the skirt of your dress, "Of course! Yes, I just... well, I didn't know who, but the marriage bit was no surprise."

"But the rest, that is all true? You had no idea you would be marrying me?" He looks frustrated, to say the least. You had no idea this would come as shocking news, someone should have informed you.

He is peeking at you through his hand, "Well...no, but-" He cuts you off now, but he seems to not be speaking to you.

"No wonder you looked so ill up there..."

Okay ouch.

"When did you agree to this marriage? Was this simply... decided for you?

You weren't sure what to say. Had this not been decided for him as well? Speaking frankly, you were not entirely sure of why he had been chosen as your partner, he had no duty to his name. Even so, he looked repulsed at the realization, eyes shot wide.

"Well... it was-" Were you supposed to be talking about this? Should you say this to your husband? "Umm... Well, I'm sure you know the higher-ups are involved with the clans..."

He shifted in his seat to face you fully now, "You...were forced?" He almost looks frighted at the concept. You want to laugh.

Of course, you were. How else did he think marriage worked?

Despite your thoughts, all you said was, "No, it was a mutual understanding that I would be married."

"Yet you know nothing about me." He looks forward at the road.

Was that what this was about? "I'm a quick learner, if you're concerned about that."

He sighs and smacks a hand to his face again. "No...No that is not what concerns me."

You have a litany of responses ranging from, 'I see...' to 'what does concern you then?' but you say none of them. You just sit forward and stare at your palms.

Oddly enough, it does not take long for the silence to be broken once more.

"Nanami." He says.

"I'm sorry?" You hadn't expected him to speak, eyes wide, you turn to him again.

"Nanami Kento. That's-" He sighs, as if it's a real chore to introduce himself, "my name is Nanami Kento."

You look to one another for a moment before you quickly break the connection, gazing out your window, deigning to not look again until you arrived.

"Mmm...thank you." You finally say.

--

Although you knew the house was not terribly far from your family estate, it felt like hours had passed before you allowed yourself to move once more.

Mr. Nanami had climbed from his seat once the car had halted.

Eager to be away from me it seems.

Only, he had seemed surprised as you climbed from your door as well, having walked around to greet you.

"Allow me," He had said, reaching for the small train case in the back of the car, it had been filled with small wedding gifts and your husband insisted on carrying it for you.

I wonder how long he will keep up this act. You found yourself thinking. Your new residence was sizable. Nice, in an uncomfortably clean way. Perhaps that is how your husband liked it.

As you stepped over the threshold, moving out of "the man of the house's" way. You took it in.

This place must have been chosen by the higher-ups. Your father would not have bought you a home, nor did you expect a man without clan connections to have been able to purchase such a plot of land.

It was only mid-afternoon. Yet your life was impossibly different than it had been only a few hours prior. You had expected the driver to stay and discuss the honeymoon with the two of you but it seemed he had not been instructed with that information.

As many frightening realizations occurred to you, you were able to resign yourself to acceptance, putting aside the...bedding...situation... the concern that stuck with you was dinner plans.

Were you expected to have that prepared? You didn't know what he preferred though....

Thoughts of your...marital duties swam in your head while Nanami was making his way towards the living room.

"Of course," He was saying, "You're free to use whatever you like, these things are as much yours as they are mine..." He had rounded through the sitting area and around the kitchen into the master bedroom, never once turning to look at you.

It was clear that people had come to prepare the area for you two. On his bedside table, you see a comfortable pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey shirt. You had not been presented with such. No, on the bed, strewn out for the both of you to see was a... sordid... set of black lacy lingerie.

You stood in silence. A resigned look on your face. Your husband on the other hand, had coughed, spun around, and fully walked from the room in moments.

What was he doing? Was he sickened by you? Did he expect you to appreciate his apprehension? If you were being honest, you would like for him to get this act over with as quickly as possible.

Looking at your marital bed, you were once again reminded of your mother's sobs only this morning. You looked down at the gown that clung to your waist. You had felt pretty today, despite the occasion. You knew you would not feel beautiful in that raunchy piece of string.

How long do I have? You wondered.

Finally moving yourself, you come before the undergarments, sit next to them, and run your hand along the bed's silky duvet.

You sat in silence for longer than you expected to be given. You finally reached your hand up your spine. Unzipping the dress, unbuttoning the clasp at your neck.

You slid it off your body. Walking around the room near-nude to lay the dress along the ladder of a bookcase. It was nice, actually. Maybe you wouldn't mind it here.

You did not rush to dress in the sexy, frilly, underthings. You might not have been perfectly comfortable in your body, but that didn't matter. Not when you had knowledge of the intentions behind your wedding for years.

It was a bit of a challenge to get it on. You weren't sure how to get your arms through at first, and then you swapped them around when you couldn't figure out the neck bit.

What did it matter, it would be coming off anyway.

After dressing, you sat in the same spot on the bed for a while, staring at your hands. You wondered if he was expecting to eat first. Seeing as he had left you alone, however, you figured he would return eventually.

It was cold like this, you hopped he would hurry.

Just as you were beginning to consider moving to look at the bookcase, (panty clad and all) your spine snapped into place when you heard him calling for you. When had you given him your name? You weren't sure.

He was speaking loudly so you might hear through the wall, but not in a frustrated manner, "The kitchen staff is arranging something for us to eat-" He had slowly began to open the door, when his eyes landed on you. Not a moment passed before he dropped whatever he had in his hands. It loudly clattered to the floor and he slammed the door shut. The noise echoed in the room.

"What-??!" He stuttered, "What are you doing?!!"

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. What were you doing? What did he mean? And how exactly do you respond?

"I... uhh-" You looked down at yourself in the ridiculous lace.

You had not been trained in much regarding sex, having been told that the man you would marry would be well aware of how to educate you when it came to your actions. Suddenly self-conscious, you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Nanami calls your name from outside your new bedroom, then repeats it. Firm and unmoving. "What-are-you-doing?"

Your hands flounce around. Stuttering for a response, "I- I don't know!?" You finally force out, the tone coming off a little too questioning for an answer.

After a moment there is a dull *bonk* against the door. You hear no response for a long while. The room is so silent, you can hear your heart pounding. It was so painfully uncomfortable, you reached a hand to your chest to try and calm it. Finally, he clears his throat and calls out to you from behind the door again.

He speaks your name gently, as if calling to a child, "I'm going to come in now, okay?"

You sit upon the bed once more, back straight. "Alright." You nod to yourself.

Unsure of what to expect, you watch the door handle tilt to allow for your husbands entry, but your eyes narrow as he shifts into the room, avoiding your gaze - in fact - avoiding your presence completely.

His arm is shaking off his nicely tailored suit jacket. Still turned to look at the closet, he comes before you, jacket in hand, and reaches out for your shoulders. You almost want to shrink back from this odd behavior but remain still as he wraps you up in his clothing.

After a few awkward seconds, he turns to look at you. "What are you doing?" He repeats, low and calm.

You raise your brows, "What... are you doing?" You reach up to feel the jacket covering your collar and torso, instantly, he drops his hands from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, a hand tugging at his loose blond hair. "I don't... understand." He is no longer looking in your vicinity. His voice shakes and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm sorry." You wrap yourself tighter in his jacket, shifting to stare at him, "Was this not... expected?" His apprehension certainly came as a surprise to you.

Suddenly he's back, fully facing you, "Expected?" He raises his brows, "What is this? You're... what? Doing what is expected of you?". Despite the severity of the moment, it is now that you recognize how expressive his features are. His neck, up to his cheeks, up to even his ears are a warm pink. It wouldn't be improbable to assume his chest is a rosy shade right about now as well.

You decide to push the boundary, share your frustration. Why is he upset? If he does not want you, he should just say. It's not as if you desire him in that way. This has been an incredibly stressful and tense day, at least he knew who you were before all of this, you did not have that liberty. If anything, you should be upset with him!

"Is it not?" You speak up, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that...this" You pull your arm out from under his jacket to motion between you two, "was how this worked."

He makes a face. Revolted.

"You are- we-" He cuts himself off, waving his hands before himself, then covers his face, "no." He gets out, "This is not how this works."

"Well." Now you're flushing, embarrassed. You straighten yourself, balling his suit jacket in your firsts. "What... would you like for me to do? I told you in the car that I learn quickly, if thats-"

"Stop." He spits out, voice suddenly higher than before, "Just...stop."

You swallow. What does he want from you? "Okay." You whisper.

He calls for you gently, and motions for you to stand. He turns away from the bathroom now and shifts in the other direction, looking at your wedding gown strewn across the bookcase ladder. He purses his lips. "Please.... dress yourself." He swallows, motions towards the wardrobes along the wall. "Something comfortable in there. I was... going to ask your preferences, for a meal-for dinner. Let me-"

He clears his throat, moving away now toward the bedroom door, he drops to the floor and picks up what must be his phone, having been dropped earlier, he rubs the screen on his pant leg. "What would you like?"

You stare at him, straight-faced. "Anything you like." You're not a picky eater.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "No. What do you like to eat?

You shrug, "Anything. I don't mind." You shake your head at him and he just looks you up and down. The stupidly large jacket comes mid-thigh.

He takes a deep breath. Then exhales dramatically. Nods. And he's gone. This time, when closing the door, he makes an effort to do so gently.

--

You had found a soft cotton pajama set in one of the dresser drawers. Having long since removed your previous attire, you wonder what your husband is thinking of as he silently serves two plates of Chinese food.

You wonder what your father would say if he saw Mr. Nanami serving up dinner for his wife as you sat on the living room couch.

You're taken from your thoughts as Nanami places a large wooden tray on the couch, he places the food on it.

It seems you will very much be eating together.

"I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you don't." He murmurs, seating himself near you in the dimly lit room.

In no world would you complain about the food your husband served you. Even if you disposed it, luckily, you liked Chinese cuisine. Before you can even get out a word of appreciation he is speaking again, "I think we should talk."

You sit up straight. "Alright."

He motions for you to eat, "Feel free. I think we ought to have an open discussion."

You grab your utensils but don't reach for anything until after he takes a bite. Awaiting his words.

"Well... I believe we ought to be on the same page about this. I had been under the impression that we were... but as I can see, that is not the case." He stares at you intently.

He is not speaking down to you, but rather, making space for an open conversation. You set down your chopsticks, and await further explanation.

"I suppose I should know what exactly the higher-ups asked of you."

You raise your brows, "Sorry?"

An apology has become a common synonym for many of your reactions.

"Earlier, you asked me for my name. And just then-" He flushes a little, motioning to the bedroom, "well- you mentioned expectations and I feel I ought to ask you what is is that has been requested of you."

Is this man daft? Is he playing with you?

Before you respond, you test the waters, "What did the higher-ups demand of you?"

The man sighs.

"I am terribly sorry," he calls your name again like its easy, a habit that makes your stomach flip, "It seems that people have not been honest with you, you deserve an explanation. I just expected you to be aware of this before our union."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes watch you and the chopsticks laying on the wooden tray.

Ah.

You reach to take a bite. It's good, and oddly puts the man before you at ease.

"Before this, I was intending to leave sorcery."

He states it as if it is nothing. Your eyes bug out and he pauses, allowing for you to ensure you heard correctly.

"The higher-ups have a large amount of sway in Tokyo, I'm not sure about Kyoto, but they were not fond of this plan."

I can't imagine why that would be. You thought as you recalled the moment you had first seen this Nanami Kento.

It had been an annual meeting between the Kyoto and Tokyo branches. You had heard him refer to sorcery as "a pain". Had he been considering retirement even then?

You simply nod, listening quietly. "It was their intention to find me...a wife." He huffs, "Maintaining a life in sorcery was highly important to them."

Oh, you see. Perhaps he wasn't so different from you after all.

The higher-ups have only had one expectation for you, even since showing promise in the world of sorcery, even after moving up the ranks at Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Your job was plain and simple.

To have babies.

Sorcerer babies.

Had they been so afraid of losing one sorcerer to the regular world that he was cornered into loveless marriage? All to keep him from departure? Was that why Gakuganji had been so immediate with his instatement of your husband?

"I see..." You nod once more.

"I would like to know your experience as well. What was it that they asked of you?" He had both hands laid flat on the makeshift table between the pair of you.

You consider what to say. "I...have known-" you try again, "My duty has been laid out for some time now." You tilt your head, he's squinting at you.

"Please. Just tell me. They... forced you - to - to do that?" He points his head in the direction of your room once more.

Now you're confused. You want to speak in a way that doesn't insult his intelligence but he's making is difficult for you. "Did you not... marry me for children?"

He chokes.

Coughing to clear his throat, he wipes his mouth. "That is not- eugh-" he tries again, "They cannot ask that of you. I will not do anything that you are not explicitly requesting of me." He pauses effecting a moment of silence before, "Do you understand?"

But you don't. "Mr. Nanami, are you... not expected to produce children? Is that not why you were chosen to be in this situation?"

He responds quickly and with precision, "I did not marry you for what you could give me. No."

You can't hold in your confused laugh, "Then...why?"

"Was it not the easiest for the both of us?" He smirks at you, his shoulders have eased only slightly after hearing your laugh, "I was informed that your other options were not the most savory."

"You knew you would be marrying me?" You ask, ignoring his reference to your suitors and flummoxed by how easy it is to speak comfortably with a man you had been so recently adverse to.

"Yes. I... cannot believe you were not provided the same..." He pauses, "I was under the impression that this was a mutual decision..."

"Oh." It's all you can say.

Nanami takes in a deep breath from across the couch cushions. "I'm sorry." And you really believe that he means it. "I would not have agreed if I knew." He forms a flat line with his lips.

"I think you're right, though..." He looks at you, addled, so you continue, “This was the easiest choice. I think so too." You're unsure of how else to conclude.

Your wedding dinner had not been what you would have expected and the night, unlike anything you could have predicted.

Nanami Kento, no matter how you denied and tried to shuffle from the bedroom, had sworn himself to a guestroom after collecting the night clothes laid out for him on the bedside table.

He had gently grabbed your shoulders, maneuvering you towards the bed and away from the exit. Pleading with you to remain in the master bedroom. Claiming that he had intended to sleep in a separate bedroom since the beginning.

Though you pulled at his arms to try and swap your standing, telling him adamantly to take the bigger of the bed options, he simply drew close to you, shifted farther from the door and blocked your sights. He lead you softly to the bed, and when you attempted to side step him and make your way to the guestroom, he took one arm, catching you by the waist, and swiftly lifted you from the floor.

"Please. Do not ask me again. Sleep here, alright? All of your things are here. I will be very comfortable in the guestroom."

And before you could get out any complaint, he had you placed upon the duvet. His hands were off you in an instant, but he remained looking in your direction as he backed to the door you had been fighting over.

"Do sleep well." His long strides had brought him to the rooms entrance with no delay, you were still caught up with the fact that he had lifted you like a sack of potatoes, with one arm no less. "We will likely have to arrange the...trip tomorrow."

The honeymoon, that's right.

He said it in a way that sounded like, 'just to warn you' or 'you should know'. But all you could reply with was, "Right."

"Right." He echo's, turning to walk through the door, and looks to you once more. "Sleep well." And there's your name again, leaving his lips as though you are long time friends.

"You too."

But the door has been silently shut.

His touch lingers on your waist from where he had lifted you. Not in the way your fathers hand would linger after he drug you to and from meetings, not the way his fingers would remain painfully on your neck after he would steer you into conference rooms. But rather, in an almost ticklish way.

You shiver.

And run your hands over your new duvet.

When you had made up your childhood bed and left this morning, you had listened to your mothers cries, sure that last night would be the last time you would have the peace of your own bed. Your heart swelled with the knowledge that you had been wrong.

Your fingers traced the stitching on the comforter. Swung your legs from the mattress, and almost-almost grinned.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tag list @longlivegojo @kitkatlover015 @l0v3rgirl-owo @smailaway (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

[loreleywrites]

In a moment like this, only one man can help Bruce Wayne through this difficult time: Michael Jon Carter, THE Booster Gold.

Bruce: I am a master of my craft. Dedicated myself to living two lives and sheparding many others. I have made gods themselves penitent. How the hell am I supposed to cope with this...this humiliation?

Mike: Settle down, my Bat-bestie! This is tabloid drivil. It'll blow over in a few days, tops. You have no idea how often I have to deal with the gossip mags calling me a huge slut.

Ted: (laughing from the other room) Lmao what no you don't.

Bruce: Get to the point, Booster.

Mike: OK so the number one tactic here is to remember that the public has the attention span of a macaque blitzed on Four Loko. Don't ask me how I know that. Just jingle some new keys and they'll forget all about the "Bruce Wayne is Batman is a huge slut" thing.

Bruce: First of all, I actually respect the public. Second, I know it can't be that easy.

Mike: Correctamundo! If you want to dislodge a smear campaign, you gotta taunt TMZ with something at least as juicy. It's like physics! I think. Skeets still refuses to explain science to me after the whole macaque incident.

Bruce: I'm not starting another rumor just to cover my own ass.

Mike: No need! I'll do it. Did you know Superman has a tattoo?

Bruce: He doesn't.

Mike: I'm shocked. Shocked! We share a locker room and you've never seen it? Right on the inner thigh, near his super-you-know-what. Looks like a cat.

Bruce: This is nonsense. Superman does not have a tattoo of Streaky on his thigh.

Mike: Who the heck is Streaky?

Bruce: Superman's cat.

Mike: We're allowed to have pets!? Skeets! Are you a pet?

Skeets: (from the other room) I always thought of myself more as a "friend."

Mike: Anyway, pretty weird of Superman to have a tattoo of his pet cat, Stinky, near his Kryptonian ding-dong.

Bruce: That's not...sigh. Look. I appreciate your intent, Booster. But you clearly don't know anything and cannot help me here. I'll figure out my own way out of this.

Mike: And yet, we're not talking about super-slut Bruce "The Batman" Wayne anymore, are we?

Bruce: ...

Mike: Or macaques.

Bruce: I...owe you an apology, Booster. In all my years as the greatest detective on the planet, I may have overlooked the possibility that such an inane solution to a problem would have real-world efficacy. Thank you, and I'm sorry.

Mike: No problem, Batso! I know you'd do the same for me.

Ted: (from the other room) Hey, babe, why's Cat Grant running an article about "Booster Gold's monkey drug parties?"

Mike: I'm gonna need the "do the same for me" part, pronto.

I'm sorry, we as a society do not talk about the fact that in order to maintain his playboy billionaire status Bruce Wayne had to sleep with a lot of people,, a lot, of people in order to maintain that.

And I'm not shaming him for that, get your hot girl summer brucie hell yea, but what I will say is can you imagine,,,

How hilarious it would be that when eventually Batman's identity gets revealed- it's not the reaction he was expecting.

‘‘Oh my god. Oh my god, Bruce Wayne Bruce Wayne the the bimbo Sexy billionaire boy. He is the stoic hard-ass Batman. There's no way-”that's not the reaction. The reaction is

“holy fucking shit I've slept with Batman”

Three quarters of that city and beyond is sat in front of their TVs, their radios, their phones,, I don't care. They're sitting there, agape going ‘I have slept with the Dark Knight. I have seen Gotham's Bat naked on his knees-‘

bruce wouldn’t be able to look the justice league nor his kids in the eyes for weeks after the reveal, solely due to the gossip channels or smth

[harunayuuka2060]

'Oh, why must I be plagued by such 'ineptitude' around me? I gave you one simple task: bring me Idia Shroud. And what did you do? You captured two random students and held them hostage!'

Arcane Hunter A: But boss, one of them is a fae, and I remember you were fanboying over someone like that on TV.

Arcane Hunter B: *nudges him* *giving his partner a look to shut up*

Arcane Hunter A: What?

'...'

'A fae?'

Arcane Hunter A: Yeah. And they're good-looking too.

*The mysterious figure seems to have been reminded of something.*

'Ah, of course... They're also enrolled at Night Raven College... Haha! How could I have overlooked such an important detail?'

Arcane Hunter A: Uh... Boss?

'I suppose I can pardon your failure on this mission... for the time being.'

MC: For those who call themselves Arcane Hunters, they certainly seem to lack the ability to properly secure hostages.

MC: Anyway, how are you feeling, Ortho?

Ortho: I feel much better now, and I’ve already sent our coordinates to my brother.

Ortho: Also, thank you for the repair.

MC: *smiles* I only managed to gather the tools you needed, but you did all the work.

Ortho: *giggles* I was impressed when you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing.

MC: *chuckles then stops*

Ortho: They're back.

MC: Yes, and they've brought someone with them.

*The Arcane Hunters entered the room, accompanying the person in front of them.*

Arcane Hunter A: *noticed that Ortho is awake*

Arcane Hunter A: Huh, looks like the robot kid can fix himself.

Arcane Hunter B: S.T.Y.X technology is truly impressive.

Ortho: ...

'Now, now, don’t frighten the poor child. We wouldn’t want to appear rude in front of our esteemed guest, would we? *looking at MC and smiles*

MC: ...

MC: Pardon me, but I don't believe we've met before.

'Indeed, we haven't had the pleasure, for I am merely an admirer, utterly captivated by your performance in the Sing and Dance Competition. Ah, forgive me—I seem to have neglected a proper introduction.

*kneels in front of them, taking MC's hand*

I am Remington Ashford, 23 years old, and still searching for a partner who will truly appreciate me. *kisses the back of their hand, gazing into their eyes*

MC: ...

Ortho: Ew.

Arcane Hunters: This little—

Malleus and Ruggie: *both seething in anger*

Malleus: Shroud, are you familiar with this Ashford?

Idia: *sigh* Yes. He's the boss of the AetherTech Industries.

Ruggie: Sounds bougie, but it doesn't ring a bell.

Idia: Of course, it just opened not too long ago.

Malleus: Then, does he need something from you?

Idia: I don't know. *frowns* But whatever it is, I'll make sure he'll regret hurting Ortho.

[juxi2218]

TOWEL TROUBLE!!!

Fushiguro megumi x reader ( 1.3k )

Warnings: English is not my first language, please bear with my ass; I'm trying to improve it by writing for my pookie gumi!!! (Feel free to correct any grammatical mistakes I may have made) (Might delete it later if it flops lol)

A little preview for yall: “wh-what are you doing?” he panics. You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.

You and Megumi stumbled into his apartment, both of you soaked from the rain. Today was your date and it was going well until the rain stormed in. You had been at a café and neither of you had an umbrella so you had to run to his place, which was close by. The cozy apartment was a welcome respite from the storm outside.

“Ugh, I hate getting wet” you murmur to yourself as you finish untying your shoe lace; and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Megumi. He gives you a glance and says “you can go have a shower first. I’ll lend you some of my clothes.” Your ears perk up and you go give him a peck on his cheek.

“Thanks a lot gumi!!”

“Yea, it’s nothing” he says while his cheeks show a visible blush of hot pink. You chuckle a bit before running to his bathroom for a warm and peaceful shower.

It hasn’t been long since you both started dating. Say, it’s been a few months and it sure was hard to get this man to open up. Your relationship started when he came sprinting to you one day, assuming the love letter was a confession from you to your other male friend. However, unbeknownst to him, you were actually playing matchmaker and had agreed to deliver the letter on nobara’s behalf.

Nobara had requested that you give the letter to the other guy, but Megumi got hold of it instead and, unaware of the truth, tore it into pieces. You and the other guy were shocked until Megumi confessed that he likes you. You had a good laugh and explained him what actually was happening. He turned red. You still remember his stupid face from that time.

All red and cute.

He apologised to you both and ran away. The next day, you reached out to him and boom! You guys started dating.

Yeah sure, the confession wasn’t the grand, romantic type you’ve imagined, nor did it unfold like a scene from your favourite movie or book. But despite that, you’re grateful as you never expected him to confess his feelings to you first.

It was really slow at first. The shy pinky holds gradually turned into hands intertwined, progressing to gentle hugs. Yes, you both have kissed for 5 times already and you were the one who initiated it because you know that this poor man would go nuts if he had to make a move on you first. He knew that you were a little bold when it comes to these things, and he had zero complaints with it. He’s so shy, you want to bite him to nothing!! (This man is making me go weak in my knees istg.)

You come out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your body, hot steam rising from your skin. 

“Gumi! I’m done showe- OUCH!” the man threw one of his sweatshirts at your face.

“Don’t just come out wearing nothing like that!”

“I’ve got a towel wrapped around me you idiot! And why’d you have to throw this at my face?!” you say while rubbing your poor face. As you regain your composure, your eyes roam around his bare chest showcasing his abs (chap 156 argh I’m so proud of my guy) and a pair of black trousers hanging loosely from his hips not failing to show his V line. You were practically drooling over the marvellous sight in front of you.

“you’re naked too!!” you exclaim.

“What? I’m decent? “.

“Huh? You’re only wearing your pants.” You point at his lower half and pout.

“Whatever, just go and change.” He exhales softly, closing his eyes. He then turns his back to you and closes the door of his cupboard while murmuring a few curse words to himself.

You cheekily sneak up to him, wrap your hands around his waist, and rest your forehead against his nape.

“wh-what are you doing?” he panics.

You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.

“Shut up” he mutters.

You smile, your grin growing wider as you tease him. He sighs. “I told you to go and change.” He looks at you, then swiftly turns his head away, avoiding eye contact as he takes in your damp hair and the scent of his body wash radiating from your skin. Your hand slides around the other side of his shoulder, gently coaxing his face back towards you. “But I wanna hug you!!” you whine, pouting.

“Yes,” he breathes, his tone husky as he nods, “yes you can do it after getting changed, yeah?” he says, his voice weakening. You shake your head, “yes, but!” you pout again, giving him your most innocent puppy eyes. You can’t help but feel a little mischievous as you keep him wrapped around your fingers.

“Stop being stubborn.”

“I like to hug you like this!”

“y/n, jus- “

“Do whatever you want! I’m not gonna step back!” you retreat your arms from his shoulders and tighten them around his waist.

With only a towel separating your skins, heat surges through his body as he feels your chest pressed against his bare back.

His head spins, and he’s overcome with a sense of weakness. He feels like he’s going to faint. His head is numb.

He doesn’t know what to do, but his body seems to have developed a mind of his own.

“Whatever I want huh?” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He takes hold of your hands, pinning them against the cupboard on either side if your head as his grip intensifies, your back pressed firmly against the cupboard’s surface.

You look at him with wide shocked eyes.

Your towel slips from the grasp you had (now gone) and you gasp in unison as Megumi’s hand reaches down to steady it (before the disaster). You feel your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look down.

His hand wraps around both of yours, holding captive as his other hand still cradles your dear towel, holding you close. You feel your heart beating wildly, racing at an alarming rate... You’re sure it’s going to burst out if you don’t get your shit together. You feel hot, incredibly hot; like all your senses are heightened. The warmth of his skin, the rush of blood to your head. This man is going to be the death of you.

You gaze up at him, and his cerulean eyes lock onto yours, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You feel your face grow hot as he looks down at your lips, his gaze piercing and intense.

You feel heat creeping up your face. He leans in. You close your eyes. You swear you can hear your heart begging you to set it free so it can go jump off a roof.

He stops when he’s an inch away from your lips, his breath warm against your plush. “If you don’t stop this, I can’t promise where this will lead us” He warns.

Shivers run down your spine again at the sudden change in his demeanor and his deep voice sending a thrill through your entire body. He lingers there for a few seconds and pulls away while a proud smirk paints his face so as to tease the shit out of you.

You flutter your eyes open as your hands move to hold your towel and watch him as he walks into the bathroom, leaving you feeling frustrated and flustered.

“Hmph! asshole” you mutter to yourself.

[agwitow]

Some other flavours of redemption:

I legitimately thought I was a good guy, but the mask has been ripped off. Unfortunately, I'm not really sure how to be good anymore. What if I mess it up again?

I'm revenge driven, and what I do makes sense in context, but I've been tricked/mistaken about who I should be enacting my revenge upon. Oh no. What have I done?

I'm evil, but my child (by blood, adoption, or other) is so innocent I can't bring myself to ruin that, so I guess I'll be good now. Ugh.

This relationship is needed for my end goal, and it was supposed to be cut-and-dry, but now there are ~feelings~ and it's making me adjust how I go about my plans. I still want to take over, so what do you mean I'm being a "good" person? The social welfare program was purely for the optics, I swear!

A chance encounter has made me question/realize some things, and I want to learn more, but I'm not really sure how to go about it.

I was legitimately evil, in my day, but they sealed me away for a thousand years, and now people think I was some sort of hero?! I'd use this to do more evil, but I'm kind of overwhelmed adjusting to this new time, and I'm developing good habits. Help!

I'm evil, but was betrayed by a bigger/more powerful evil, and I just really want to rub it in their face that they weren't able to successfully get rid of me. My petty is the only thing keeping me going right now, so don't make me examine how much this is changing me, please.

I was the (secretly?) evil advisor, but the new boss/king/queen is such a tyrant that I am now (secretly?) advising the heroes. People are making me out to be a martyr, but I just want to plot my little schemes in peace!

some random redemption arcs that aren’t just ‘zuko, but a little to the left’

I’m evil but all my evil friends betrayed me and I’ve decided that the best revenge is to ruin their evil plans. Yes, this means I’m a “good guy” or whatever. No, I don’t like it any more than you do.

I was evil but all my evil friends betrayed me and now I’m going to latch onto the first person who shows me kindness. If that happens to be the protagonist, I am totally fine with realigning my morality to match theirs.

I never wanted to do what I did, and now the biggest obstacle to me switching sides is convincing me that I’m not a living weapon.

Well as long as you’re imprisoning me in this magic amulet I might as well give you pointers on your technique. I mean come on if you all die I might be stuck here for millennia! It’s not because I like you and don’t want you to die. Nuh uh.

Look, I legit thought that being evil was going to be my best option to get this important thing done, but, uh, that didn’t pan out. Help?

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.

Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, you’ve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward. 

You’re not exactly prepared for this, but you don’t have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light. 

You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers. 

You’re smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. There’s a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams. 

Plus, there’s also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.

Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling that’s terrified. If it’ll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?

Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And you’re pulled into wonderland.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesn’t look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different. 

The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway you’re in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. It’s covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallway’s lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble. 

You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues. 

“This is…new.” And so far what’s new makes you feel chills. “What is the mirror trying to show me n-”

A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter. 

You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesn’t feel right.

Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whatever’s happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now. 

You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. It’s a single door, knee high and heart shaped. 

“How the hell am I supposed to-” Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. “Alright, I’m going!” You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-

Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts. 

And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders. 

“I-I-” 

You don’t get to put a word in, and shit must’ve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! I’m stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>

“I used the door-” You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judge’s bench. “Nevermind” You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge. 

<Well,  it doesn’t matter you have to->

<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if they’re entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.

No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and he’s unwillingly along for the ride.

She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?

Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Can’t you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused. 

<There’s no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.

<I must be…..> He says after a few long moments.

<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again. 

A soft voice snaps you out of it. <Um…Your Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendant’s chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal. 

You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. “Winston I-”

He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <I’ve finally lost, haven’t I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination…>

“No. You haven’t and I’m not.” You push, desperate to make him see reason, “Alice has seen me before, I’m real!” You hurriedly whisper-yell. 

<Then if you’re real then you have to help Alice and you have to help me->

<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.

“W-What’s happening?” You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence. 

Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial.  I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>

You perk up at his words. Back home means that he’s not from wonderland so if that’s the case…Just to be sure, you ask. “You’re not from here?”

He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing you’re real or not, <I-I’m from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>

“You know where London is?” You feel hope bloom in your chest, “Are you from Earth?”

<Yes, but->

You interrupt him in your budding excitement, “Then you have to help me! I’m stuck here, like you and Alice!”

<Regardless of whether you’re real or fake, I-I can’t help you! If Mary finds out, I tried to escape again, heads will roll! >

You haul the king up by his shirt. “Would you rather be stuck here forever?! If there’s a way out, we need to take it!” You can ignore the ‘being stuck here ever since’ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means there’s a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it. 

<I’ll help you on one condition.>

“Anything!”

<Help Alice. I can’t let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You don’t even get the opportunity to scream as you’re pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard. 

“Ow….” Damnit Winston, if you weren’t stuck in the same situation as him, you’d curse him out

<Miss, you’re back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>

“A place like you.” Alice lights up at your words,  “How’s your trial going?” only to deflate five seconds later. 

<It doesn’t make any sense, this trial doesn’t follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self. 

“No, it does.” You’re forced to admit. “They’re just horrible rules.”

<Well, this really isn’t-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations. 

You don’t even know what happened next. 

One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queen’s head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes. 

Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.

“OFFF with-” the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you don’t recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as  her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Alice’s shoulders. 

<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your Majesty….’Your Majesty,’ indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway,  Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have. 

The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year old’s new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant. 

<Why, you’re not a queen. You’re just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old ty…tyrant…> As if Alice couldn’t get any more unlucky, the mushroom’s magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size.  You tumble off of Alice’s shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queen’s glare gets more and more murderous.

<Mmhmmhmmhmm….> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the King’s face and worry on Alice’s. This isn’t good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>

A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Alice’s words. <Well, she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queen’s face turns red, contrasting the black and white.

<OOOOOOFFF with her head!!!>

You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence. 

But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling she’s just a child!>

And then the world blurs.

You’re back in your bed. Alice isn’t in your arms anymore, instead it’s Grim.

Why won’t anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.

AND THEN YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!

Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you can’t go back till you go to bed! And that’s if Alice hasn’t gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!

You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar. 

What a great way to start the morning. 

But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. That’s something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesn’t make you feel any better though. 

“Ugh, Great.” You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim. 

“Hey, ____! Ah, good, you’re already up!” 

“Didn’t exactly have the best sleep.” Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But that’s a later thing, “Ready to get these collars off?” 

“Yeah!”

Back at the tyrant’s castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didn’t bring up the flammable part at some point during the dorm’s construction was a question you’re not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.

Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars. 

And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddle’s already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.

But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your group’s arrival….

“Did you hear? They say someone’s challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!”

“Riddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.”

…about how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but they’re the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone. 

Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity. 

“Still, it’s the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. I’m pumped!” In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.

Also, Trey apparently didn’t warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyul’s Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan.  “You’re saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leader’s seat?! Please tell me you’re kidding!”

You sigh, “I’m not, Cater. Wish I was.”

“We tried to stop ‘em.” Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like he’s afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddle’s mom traumatize him too!?

Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. “Of all the stupid ideas…I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“You and me both.” Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?

Crowley’s clearing of his throat silences the crowd’s chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power that’s going on in this dorm, but whatever it’s not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isn’t given your experience so far. 

“We are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.” He announces as grandiose as possible. “The first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.”

“Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.” Oh, you were waiting for that.

Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuce’s necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you can’t imagine the relief he must feel. “Ah! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!”

Yours and Grim’s are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterday’s rampage? You can feel your rage rising. 

“Enjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.” Riddle’s cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall. 

But before that…..

“Hey, Rosehearts!” You call out, “ Just to point something out,” You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, “could you please remove mine and Grim’s. We’re not even in your dorm!” Riddle sighs, as if you’ve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grim’s necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The ‘Asshole’ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.

Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. “Carry on.” You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. “I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?”

There’s a “Do I look like I’m joking?” from Ace and a “I’d never propose a duel as a joke!” from Deuce. They’re not backing down now. 

“Hmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.” Indeed, let’s get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesn’t mean you won’t cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if it’s on par with stupidity.

But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldn’t, “Uh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?”

“A foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.” Oh, so he’s cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes. 

“It’s just that it’s already past 3:30….”

“And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” So he’s very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall. 

“It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.” Oh. Wow, he’s…..he’s arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed. 

The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday. 

“You can do it, Dorm Leader!”

“Knock ‘em dead, sir!”

You can see Trey shake his head to your  right, so he still hasn’t said anything. Coward.

“Cowards,” you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because you’re looking right at one. To say that you don’t want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when you’re letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.

“Myah, I got a bad feelin’ about this.” You squeeze Grim tighter. 

“I do too, Grim.” 

“Hey, at least we got a plan!” A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but you’ll accept his confidence. 

“Headmaster, please give us the signal.” Riddle’s already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.

“When the mirror, I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready…Go!” 

“You guys can do it!” You offer them some encouragement, but….

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.

If you're being generous, you’ll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant ‘beheadings’ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later. 

“That was…..fast.” You say glumly, it’s sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected. 

Well, now what?

“Visualization is key to spell casting.” Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. It’s not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. “The better you are at accurately visualizing your magic’s effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.”

“They lost in less than ten seconds, you’re not helping Crowley.” You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesn’t fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They can’t even use their magic to practice now. “Still, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.” Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrant’s ego even more too. Crowley’s just batting zero right now. 

“Myah…They didn’t stand a chance.” Grim bemoans at the loss. 

You sigh, “Well at least they tried….” it wasn’t really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, “You guys did your best, or were going to your best..” You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.

Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. “Hardly. They didn’t even last five seconds.” You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant. 

 That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. “That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.”

You glare at him, “You won already. Stop rubbing it in.”

Riddle’s too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. “I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.” You’re going to put a knife between that woman’s eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearest’s parenting has screwed him up so much that he’s doing the same thing to the people he lives with.

If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.

“Tch…We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you’ve enacted is tyranny!” 

“Then you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.” Is…is he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuce’s sentence? “Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!”

You had enough of this.

You’ve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this brat’s tyranny.  You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.

 Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! “But that’s not right! You can’t just use the rules to do whatever you please!” You yell in fury. 

“I am the one who decides what is wrong and right-”

You cut him off. “And you’re also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends he’s the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!” His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And you’re not done. “How can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you can’t even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!” You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuce’s, on your shoulder. You’re pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?

He continues talking like you didn’t say anything. “If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.” You;re going to punch him. 

“You!-” What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.

“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a result…you lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It’s quite sad.”

You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification. 

He did not. 

He did not just say that about you.

“You-” You can’t even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you. 

“You little…” Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground but…..

“You shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace dashes forward fist raised and-

He punches Riddle clean across the face. 

Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch. 

So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.

You don’t say anything, staring at what’s about to unfold, with a blank expression.

“That’s all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. I’m done.” Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.

“That hurt! You…p-punched me?!” Riddle’s genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You can’t bring yourself to care. 

Ace spits some facts. 

“Kids aren’t trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child aren’t determined by the worth of their parents. It’s  not your parents’ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone else’s. You’ve been here a year and haven’t even made a friend who will tell you you’re outta line. And that’s on you.”

“What are you even talking about?” 

“Yeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Can’t you think for yourself? You call yourself the ‘red sovereign’. You’re just a baby who’s good at magic.”

“Baby…? Did you just call me a ‘baby’?! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about anything!” But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.

“Nope, sure don’t. And I don’t need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat!” Ace doesn’t let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year. 

Riddle’s face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means I’m right too!” Riddle practically roars in anger. He’s shaking from barely repressed rage. 

Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. “Riddle, calm down. The duel is already over.”

“Mr. Clover is correct.” Crowley  The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, I’ll have you written up for breaking school rules!” But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesn’t soothe his rage. It doesn’t matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-

“Ace is right, though! I’ve had enough of Riddle!” A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddle’s head.

An egg cracks in Riddle’s hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones. 

For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddle’s face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. “Who did that? Who threw that egg?!”

And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And it’s not a composed one.

“Heh heh…Ah ha ha ha!”  It’s an insane one.

Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm students“You say YOU’RE fed up?! I’M the one who’s fed up with all of YOU!” 

“No matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party won’t come forward, then I’ll pass judgment on all of you!”

“Clearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!” Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic.  You’re getting real tired of hearing that. 

The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. “Bwaaah! Let’s get out of here!” “Urrrgh!” 

Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last,  shoves past Ace to rub in his ‘victory’ to Ace.“How do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!”

Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddle’s actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. “Cease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!”

“Crowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!” You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power. 

“Uh…Trey, if he keeps using his spell…This could get ugly, fast!” You barely hear Cater over the chaos.

Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming  Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. “Riddle, stop this!”

Ace might be perspective but he’s incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. “Wow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!”

Riddle’s face goes deep crimson. “Retract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!” He yells. 

This might not be good.

Ace doesn’t let up “No way. I ain’t retraction’ squat.”

Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddle’s reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. “YEEEAAARGH!!!”

“Dude, this is bad! You’ve G-2-G, now!” You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.

And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddle’s magic.

Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes. 

“W…Whoa…” You take a nervous step back, “Shit.” 

“The rose trees! They’re floating!”

“This is some serious magic!”

The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddle’s magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest. 

“Mighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!” Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.

“Ace! MOVE!” You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see who’s stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. It’s Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. “Lemme go! Ace needs help!” 

Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. “I can’t let you get hurt!”

Since you can’t get to Ace, “Crowley! DO something!” You yell at the Headmaster who’s done jack diddly since Riddle’s tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All he’s done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this. 

“Cease and desist at once!” Crowley doesn’t do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddle’s already too angry to listen.

But it’s too late for any one to push Ace out of the way, 

“ACE!” You can’t even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing you’ve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you don’t witness him being killed….

…..By playing cards?

Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shreds….playing cards fall from the sky.

“Huh? I’m still alive?” Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here. 

Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, “Are you okay!?” Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands. 

“Y-Yeah,”He answers and you sigh in clear relief.  What’s with all these playing cards?”

“All the rose trees turned into cards?” Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead it’s all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!

Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But there’s no time for that. 

Because Riddle’s face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as “Why didn���t you-”

Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddle’s view. “Riddle, stop this right now!” Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful. 

“Wait, is that Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’?! But…how?!” You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Ace’s life. 

“All the magic sealin’ collars are gone!” Grim’s right, You didn’t even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed. 

“What did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make ‘Riddle’s magic’ into ‘my magic’.” Trey’s explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.

“You can do that? That’s some kinda loophole!” And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.

Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddle’s discovered his magic’s no longer his own. “N-no…Off with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!” Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyone’s magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Trey’s magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting. 

Trey finally puts his foot down. “Riddle, stop. Can’t you see how you look right now?”

You can’t believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddle’s ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddle’s cruelty. 

Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. They’re not very smart. are they? 

“He…he was really gonna do it!” “He is completely out of control.” “He’s like some kinda monster!”

Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isn’t focused on that. Instead, he’s more concerned with the fact that his magic isn’t his anymore. And Trey is the reason. “What? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!” He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness. 

“Of course it doesn’t. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.” Trey tries to reason, but it’s too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.

You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-

Still completely unreasonable, Riddle’s still deaf to Trey's words, “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I…I refuse to believe this!” That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling you’re getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddle’s nose. Wait, that’s not blood. Blood isn’t….black.

You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you haven’t lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.

You normally wouldn’t do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. “Riddle, you need to calm down.” You try to soothe the raging beast, even though you’re sure that this is a bad idea. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Wha-OW!” Ace looks at you as if you’d gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut. 

Riddle’s angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. “ I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!” He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. “AND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!”

“I’m just trying to calm you down, you don’t really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?” You hope he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, you’re really not ready to witness someone’s death. 

Riddle’s face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is. 

He snaps, his voice laden with venom. 

“YOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!”

…..What.

Did he just- 

No way, he just did. He did. 

Shit. Shit...SHIT. 

FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!

You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastard’s neck to be the other way round. 

You feel fire burn under your skin. You’re gonna-

“Wait, wha-” You hear , and you don’t even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they don’t believe him, the doubt will remain. So you’re basically fried. 

“It’s nothing!” You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or  Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic.  You’ll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you. 

If Riddle doesn’t get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face. 

Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. “Cease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!”

What is blot?! 

And why is Riddle-

“But….I’m right! I’M the one who’s right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!” Thick, black inky substance  comes out of his eyes and ears. 

“Riddle, stop!” Trey’s words can’t pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will. 

Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole. 

And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterfly…..

…..he comes out a monster.

Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed. 

His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, he’s dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)

The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters. 

But that’s not the most terrifying part of it. 

There’s also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddle’s back.  And that’s the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. She’s even carrying a rose bush, torn from another world’s ground.

This is not good. And you’re suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.

The possessed? Riddle cackles, “You are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!” His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.

“The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Dorm Leader Riddle.’ All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!” 

“Dear me, what have I done? I’ve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!” What the fuck is overblot!?

“Crowley? What the HELL is overblot!?” You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!

“Overblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.”

“Okay but what does that mean?!” 

“Please explain!”

“To put it in layman’s terms, he’s in evil berserker mode!”

“If he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.” 

“WHAT!” You feel your eye twitch, “CROWLEY! WHY DIDN’T YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!” It can’t be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of ‘hey, here’s some things you should know about our world!’, for crap’s sake. 

“Ms. ____-” 

“Nevermind, Crowley! We’ll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, I’ll freak out later!” And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, you’re going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think it’s bad it just gets worse.

“Yes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.”

“Y-You’re not staying?”. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shit’s sake. “No, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.” Damnit Crowley! “For as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worse…” WHAT’S WORSE?!?!

“Listen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.” But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-

While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.

Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what they’ve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.

“HIIYAH! TAKE THAT!” A strong magical gust knocks the beast’s weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle. 

“Huh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride. 

“I summon thee, cauldron!” Deuce takes advantage of Riddle’s change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least he’s not attacking the students any more!

“MYAH!” Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuce’s own attacks. 

Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. “What do you fools think you’re doing?”

“Um, hello?! 911? We’ve got an idiot emergency!” Cater’s internet talk doesn’t fade in times of high stress.

Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, “You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin’ with him, right?!”

“That’s why we need to stop him now! I don’t want that on my conscience!” Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, you’re not a hypocrite. 

“And I’m not givin’ up till I hear him say, ‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’”

You’re convinced, “Yeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!”

“All right, let’s do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!”

“Wait! This is dangerous!”

“Are you S-R-S, Trey? You can’t beat Riddle!”

“So what, you’re not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?”

“Yeah, he’s right. That’s weak.”

“This is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!”

“Yeah…I don’t want to lose him. There’re too many things I’ve left unsaid.”

“We just have to do this, whatever it takes!” You might not be able to do magic, but you’ll help….somehow. 

“Ugh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!”

Ngh…I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!”

“Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!”

“Riddle’s body can’t take much more of this. We need to stop him before it’s too late!”

Things are going…..well enough. 

Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? It’s not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his ‘underlings’ or really equals he’s un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?

Here’s the good news. 

Trey’s magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddle’s UM makes the battle actually possible. 

Cater’s Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim’s inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy. 

But here’s the bad news. 

Riddle’s fast. Very fast. 

For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether he’s a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, he’s still a magical prodigy.

What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, you’re not completely powerless here. 

Why? 

Because Riddle’s earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.

All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face. 

Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddle’s direction, you’re safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so it’s easy to sneak away. 

You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till you’re a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. “Hey Rosehearts!” You yell.

He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.

It hits him square in the forehead. 

Riddle doesn’t even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.

“HA! Take that you controlling bastard!” Sure, you’re saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.

Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, he’s much slower. 

So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle. 

With every new strike, the monster’s body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monster’s distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker. 

“Is it over?” You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monster’s body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like he’s about to pass out. “Is he going to die?”

“He better not. He still needs to apologize to me!” Ace 

You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him. 

You don’t know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.

“Henchman!” 

So you don’t know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddle’s wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can,  just as the monster finally burst. 

Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddle’s burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesn’t let up. 

“_____!!!” You hear many voices screaming your name. But you can’t see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.

All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the ink…but the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isn’t the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.

It’s a voice.

“I…was wrong?! But that’s…impossible…”

A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Isn’t it….Mother?”

[princessefemmelesbian]

Maybe I’m just being dramatic but it does legitimately scare and sadden me to see that a lot of transandrophobia truthers are literally just…young boys. Like, actual children. Like you’re not even old enough to vote yet and you have your whole life ahead of you and yet you are being manipulated into joining an mra group that hates trans women with a passion and thinks that men are oppressed in society for being men, and constantly uses Black men as their talking point in order to sound diverse and inclusive, meanwhile they’re also appropriating and misusing terminology specifically created by Black women to talk about our own oppression in order to get their misandry point across…to say nothing of the fact that the largest people in this group(including but not limited to its creator!) have misogynistic rape/detrans kinks centered specifically around preying on lesbians and trans women and this is something that is normalized and defended by the vast majority of transandrophobia truthers, or at least defended viciously by every single transandrodork that I’ve ever encountered who argued with me(a lesbian!!!) that actually there’s nothing wrong with getting off to the corrective rape of women because two consenting adults can do whatever they want in the bedroom(yeah right)! Not to mention I have yet to come across a transandrophobia truther who wasn’t also a raging die-hard Zionist.

And that’s why it disturbs me so much to see young trans boys jumping onto this transmisogynistic hate train like you guys realize these men don’t have your best interests at heart, right? They’re only going to manipulate you into being a sexist entitled asshat who shuns and bullies the trans women in your community and sees them as oppressing you. Like I know you’re still in middle/high school but you can still think for yourselves, you can choose to be better than this, you can choose to actually learn about feminism and realize that it’s not actually misandry that oppresses you, it’s transphobia. Misandry doesn’t suddenly become real because you slap a trans paint over it that’s not how it works that’s not how intersectionality works that’s not how any of this shit works. There are better trans men to talk to about trans issues who know that the patriarchy is real and don’t shit on trans women in order to speak out about trans topics, so go seek them out, okay? You absolutely do not have to listen to shit that the “male supremacists but trans” group of lowlives has to say. Hell, tell them to fuck off instead! Please, I promise you that there are much better options, there are ALWAYS better options, and you still have time to escape before they fully radicalize you into basically being an incel. There will ALWAYS be another way. ❤️

[honeygrahambitch]

"Even Will Graham has a better sex life than I do." Jimmy said, as if he had been holding that sentence inside for too long.

Beverly and Brian abandoned the blood samples they were working on and looked at him in disbelief as if they were trying to make sure they got it right.

"One question would be how do you know that?" Brian asked. "I doubt Will is the type to talk about stuff like that."

"That's easy, haven't you seen Hannibal?" Beverly asked rolling her eyes.

"I am not particularly into men."

"You don't have to be in order to tell that someone must excel in bed. It's the attitude."

"Stop that." Jimmy interrupted their banter. "I overheard a discussion between the two of them."

"Do we really need to know?" Brian said as he looked at Beverly for support. However, her opinion was different.

"Share."

"Alright but this doesn't leave the lab. It stays between us." Jimmy said. After all, Will was his friend and he didn't have anything against Hannibal. He was usually not the one to gossip but this felt like something that needed to be debated. "They are having a threesome."

"No way." Beverly said as she elbowed Brian who remained dumb.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Brian asked.

"Why did you immediately assume it's a lady?"

"For more diversity? I don't know how these things work?"

"Can you shut up and listen?" Jimmy cut them off. "I overheard Will asking Hannibal whether their plans for the night have changed. Hannibal had said that they did not and then pulled out this business card and handed it to Will. Will was like- a sport trainer? He will be a handful."

"I told you it's a man!" Beverly told Brian then turned back to Jimmy. "That doesn't prove anything though."

"Maybe if you two listened I could get to the point. So, Will said that and Hannibal was amused and said "I am confident we can handle him. Cannot be worse than the one last week. I was not proud of the way we left his bedroom"."

"Shut up..." Brian whispered. Beverly didn't say anything, her lips parted in disbelief. "And then?"

"Then Will said...damn, I hate that I have to repeat his words but he said..."He was bigger than either of us expected. I mean, for a finance guy, he was quite a challenge. My back still hurts."" Jimmy went on. "And Hannibal was like "the one we are having tonight will definitely be in good shape. I will be there, I am not letting him touch you.""

"Christ." Beverly said. "And?"

"And Will said "As if I need you to take care of me. Remember how the one from two weeks ago surprised you from behind? You were lucky I was there." Then they noticed me because of the stupid coffee machine who started beeping. And I swear to God, their surprised expressions indicated exactly the fact that I was not supposed to hear that."

"Wow." Brian said thoughtfully. "Every week. Good for them. That's how you keep things interesting in a relationship."

"I wouldn't have believed Hannibal would share Will with anyone." Beverly commented.

"Will might have a say in that?" Jimmy suggested. "Anyway, I couldn't believe it. I was afraid I took things out of context maybe?"

"Definitely not." Beverly said. "What else could they have been talking about?"

***

"Do you think Jimmy overhead us earlier?" Will said as he looked for their knives in the trunk of the car.

"I doubt it. It doesn't prove anything. We were quite subtle." Hannibal replied as he put his scalpel in his left pocket. "Ready? He must be home by now."

"Let's go. I don't want to spend the whole night butchering this guy. By the way, what did he do?"

"Insinuated I do not take my physical health seriously."

"He just hasn't seen what's underneath that suit." Will replied, making Hannibal smile.

[hannahluvsbillie]

the only one

casual part 3.

(but can be read as a one shot)

part one

✫ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ~ you thought billie had moved on, seeing her post like it was nothing, she was fine. maybe it was just casual to her.

★ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ~ billie eilish x reader

★ 𝐜𝐰! ~ mentions of panic attack, angst, nightmares (?)

ᡣ𐭩 a/n ~ hi! thank you all sm for waiting for part 3!! this one has a little time-skip, i’m thinking maybe 1-2 months since casual part 2. let me know if you like it, hopefully it lived up to your expectations 🥺

it’s been a few months since that last meet up billie and you had. the one where she belittled you and your feelings.

you blocked her the morning after, it wasn’t easy blocking her. someone you fell in love with, but you realized that it was one sided the day she told you it was just causal.

maybe you wanted her to spill her feelings on how she loved you, and didn’t just want you for a quick hook up to relive some steam. but deep down you knew that’d never be the case.

to say you’ve been doing good is a lie, you’ve been.. okay. dating felt pointless as of now, you knew your heart would always belong to billie, even if you two weren’t serious, it didn’t mean you loved her any less.

billie on the other hand, looked like she was doing great. i mean- it wasn’t like you’ve checked up on her, you were non contact. but on her instagram she looked like she was doing great. she’s on tour, her album is still doing good, she has good friends. it was bittersweet to see her now, it still made you cry some nights.

you were laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. you had just woke up from your sleep, a dream waking you up. the dream was a recurring one you’ve gotten for the past few months since you ended it with billie.

the dream went something like this: you were in bed and when you turned over, you see billie, sleeping peacefully. you just observe her for however long until your brain wakes you up.

it never went father then that, it was just a constant reminder of her. maybe that’s why you couldn’t get over her.

suddenly your phone starts ringing, waking you from your daze. you shake your head a little and roll over, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand and rubbing your eyes to see who’s calling.

who would call you at 3 am?

you read the number, you don’t recognize it. it’s your area code, but that’s all you recognize. god- they’ve called you 12 times.

you just decide to pick up, hoping they’d stop after that.

“hel-“ you clear your throat, trying to make it sound like you weren’t just asleep. “hello?” you say weakly.

“y/n?” the other person says.

your heart drops, how could you not recognize that voice? the voice that used to sing praises to you, who used to speak to you in the softest voice, the voice you fell in love with.

“billie? what the fuck?” you say, blinking repeatedly. you blocked her, how was she calling you? you pinch yourself once to make sure you aren’t still dreaming, only to be met with pain. okay, so this was real.

“i know im sorry- i just- i really need you right now, i have no one else to call and i don’t know what to do.” billie speaks, immediately apologizing. you can already tell she was in the middle of a

panic attack. her voice cracking when she speaks. you feel that same pang in your chest hearing her like that.

you take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. “okay- bills- billie, calm down. breathe for a minute” you say. you regret answering, it just made everything come back.

you hear her take a breathe and go silent for a moment, before speaking again. “i’m really sorry- i know you blocked me and we aren’t supposed to be talking, but i just- i dont know what to do. you’re the only one that knows how to deal with me when im like- when im like this.” she speaks softly, her voice still shaky.

you go silent for a second, zoning out looking at the floor. inviting her over would be horrible for you, ruining all of the progress you’ve made. but fuck, you can’t just leave her alone, you can’t help but care about her.

“okay- fuck, do you want to come-“

“yeah.”

“okay.”

your eyes widen when she speaks. that was quick. as soon as she says yes you hang up, putting your phone down. what did you just do?

a few minutes later you’re pacing though the kitchen, waiting for the doorbell to ring. the gravity of what you just did sinks in, you shouldn’t of offered.

but as soon as the doorbell rings and you rush over to open the door- maybe a bit too quickly, and you see a disheveled billie, all of it disappears. god you just wanted to protect her from everything.

her hair sticks to her forehead, the same hair that you used to play with, her eyes were red and looked up at you with so

much guilt. it’s obvious she feels horrible

about coming here. maybe she wasn’t as good as it seemed on her instagram. it looks like she’s back in that place she was in when you first met her.

“oh, baby…” you coo, gently putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her inside. when you close the door and look back at her, she looks like a lost puppy, her eyes still swollen.

“i’m- sorry-“ billie chokes out, starting to cry again. you immediately pull her into a hug, gently cradling her head in your hand, the other hand gently rubbing her back.

“it’s okay billie.” you say, gently kissing her head.

you felt so many things, you let her into your house even when she broke your heart, you truely could never deny her, especially when she’s crying in your arms like this.

you’re fucked now.

[yuanist]

kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.

admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.

a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.

i just moaned your name during sex.

you blink at the screen.

you what?

moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.

you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.

you’re fucking with me, right?

dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.

you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.

you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.

i have hobbies!

non-sexual ones?

he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.

and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.

yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.

and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.

you take a minute, trying to rationalize.

the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.

the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.

you send the text.

there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.

really?

and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.

he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.

now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).

the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.

your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.

are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.

you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?

you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.

you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.

nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.

you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.

a beat of silence, and then, "hi."

that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.

he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.

his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?

"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.

(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).

you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.

he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.

he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.

"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"

oops.

"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."

his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."

and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.

he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.

"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.

"pardon?"

"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."

"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."

"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."

you feel something inside you quiver.

this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.

truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.

"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"

and he grins, because of course he is.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[bloggerspam]

And here it is, the epilogue! We skip back a little bit in this one, for some yummy deleted scenes. Thank you @phantomfen and @haleswallows for your lovely support, this couldn't have happened without ya'll! And thank you @ashrayus for the art that inspired it all. I hope I did you proud!

===

Cass observes BruceBatdad from her vantage point two rooftops away.

She hears StephSpoiler join her soon after, TimRobin following just seconds later.

BruceBatdad is not alone.

A woman and a boy stand before him, and Cass would be a fool to not remember that face, to not know who they are.

Even from so far away, it is hard to forget the woman who gave her candy once, all those years ago.

It is hard to forget her words then too.

I have a son, Talia Al-Ghul had said then, but I'm afraid he does not like sweets, will you throw them away for me?

Cass hears TimRobin and StephSpoiler bicker quietly behind her, lets BabsOracle's soothing voice demanding explanations wash over her in harmony.

JayHood's low timbre joins the cacophony, DickieWing's excited chatter echoing in the comms as he makes his way over. It is Sunday, that Sunday, brunch Sunday, so he is in Gotham tonight.

Bludhaven must be lonely.

She squints. BabsOracle starts to hiss, TimRobin and StephSpoiler tumbling over each other now.

DamianBabyBrother stands at attention, but his gaze is on them.

She waves. He does not wave back. That is okay.

DickieWing cartwheels onto their roof, gives Cass a pat on the head before wrangling the other two.

Cass observes their new baby brother, but does not get much. He is well trained. It does not matter, there will be time to learn.

"Show of hands," BabsOracle's voice is strict, commanding. They all freeze, trained in a better way, "New family member."

Immediately, all hands go up. TimRobin hesitates. It is okay. There will be time.

Cass smiles, watches DickieWing whoop, leading the race back to the Cave.

Cass waves again, but knows not to wait this time, twirling her way through her siblings.

She intends to win the race back home.

===

Alfred contemplates his newest ward as he wipes his hands.

The little one wants to know if there are any tasks assigned to him, which is new and refreshing.

This is, of course, sarcasm.

Master Jason refused to accept food without some kind of chore to exchange.

Miss Cass still shadows him occasionally, on alert for anything Alfred should need.

Even Master Duke is in the habit of asking Alfred if he can help anywhere.

Alfred had indulged them, of course, once in a while. Help them feel at ease.

The problem now is that Master Damian is not actually asking for tasks.

He is asking for information.

That is what intrigues him.

Master Damian stands quietly at attention, patiently, as Alfred considers the best way to navigate this.

"Well," Alfred lifts an eyebrow, "It isn't entirely necessary, Master Damian."

"I must earn my keep," the young master insists, "Blood son or not, I do not plan to waste away here."

Alfred hums. "Then I suppose it would depend on where your skills lie, Master Damian."

"I was trained in survival," Master Damian replies with nary a pause, "I can cook, and do basic cleaning." He tilts his head, reminding Alfred of a Young Master Bruce. "Admittedly, I am unsure of my skill level with no-one to compare to, as it was not necessary to my training."

Alfred lets that ruminate. He could have the young master help with dishes first, chat as he cooks for the family. It would be nice to have someone in residence to help with cooking again. Master Jason still avoids the Manor quiet often, after all.

"It is at least edible," Master Damian must mistake his silence as refusal, "And I learn quick."

"Yes," Alfred reassures the boy, "I am aware. Let's have you start with dishes, shall we?"

Master Damian's lip quirks to the side, small and so very familiar, and rolls up his sleeves.

Yes, this will do. Alfred smiles back, turning around to work on tonight's dinner.

Now, how much to reveal?

===

Steph watches the newest baby Wayne scrutinize Dick's somersault with the kind of concentration of a life and death threat.

It's impressive and at once entirely so sad that Damian executes a perfect somersault two tries later.

Once to get the feel. Twice to adjust.

Genius? Or training?

Steph doesn't really want to know.

It's the 16th item on the list that Damian has excelled at within the first five tries. Steph wants so badly for this little baby to let loose. He's been here for a couple months and he still thinks his stay is temporary.

As if Bruce would let his babiest bat go back to that asshole Ra's.

Talia might be cool, Steph doesn't know. Damian sure loves her, just from the scant sentences he's said about her. But sometimes love just…isn't enough.

Damian does a perfect one handed handstand, twirling around just like Dick did and stepping delicate down, and eyeing the tightrope Duke and Steph had set up for him to try. There's a unicycle somewhere in the gym, they just have to find it.

"Does this spark joy?" Damian tilts his head, from where he's perfectly balanced on the stupid unicycle and looking way too smug about it.

"It does not." He finally answers, dismounting with boring aplomb.

The next hobby is skateboarding—Tim shows Damian how to do an ollie, once the kid has the hang of standing on the board.

It is a special kind of delight to watch a trained-from-basically-birth assassin eat shit on a skateboard.

A pencil is tossed unerringly at her forehead whilst she loses breath laughing, and you know what?

It's totally worth it, especially when it devolves quickly into an office supply version of a food fight between the five of them.

They try new hobbies, and each time, Steph asks "Does it spark joy?"

And each time Damian considers, before he answers very seriously, "It does not."

Steph's gotta admit, the sincerity is what does it for her.

By the end of it, Steph loses the bet, but it doesnt matter.

Babybat'll fit in fine.

===

Duke comes down to breakfast and immediately realizes something is wrong.

Damian has been in the Manor for a while now, and it's been routine for Duke to see him making breakfast with Alfred every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Today is Friday, and Damian is at the stove, alone.

"Hey, little dude." Duke cautiously greets, "Where's Alfie?"

"Pennyworth went to fetch more eggs." Damian doesn't turn around, but he answers, and that's all Duke can really ask for. "Someone had used it up last night, without permission."

Duke whistles. "Enough of them to warrant an emergency shopping trip?" Alfie usually keeps a burden's amount of eggs in the fridge always stocked up.

"Brown and Grayson," Damian carefully says, smirking over his shoulder and obviously trying not to laugh, "decided they wanted pancakes."

"Oh my god." Duke laughs, already seeing disaster and trying to keep it all in to ask his question, "What—what did they do?"

"Apparently," Damian drags out, "They thought that eggs and flour was enough to make the batter."

Damian comes to the table, placing a perfect plate of sunny side up eggs, bacon, and hash in front of Duke.

"Needless to say, they made almost two kilos of pasta instead." He places the second plate at the head of the table. "They tried to fry some of it anyway, and ruined two pans before they realized that perhaps, maybe, pancake batter should look a little more…liquid."

By the time Damian has his own plate sitting across from Duke, he can't breathe from how hard he's laughing.

Bruce walks in, and they no doubt paint a peculiar picture: Damian, smirking and daintily eating his eggs. And Duke, curled over the table and trying to recover and succeeding at a snail's pace.

"Good morning Father." Damian primly greets.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Bruce's voice is confused, but amiable. He carefully picks his way to his spot and compliments Damian on breakfast, who nods in satisfaction.

"Duke, are you alright son?" Bruce asks, when Duke can finally straighten up take one deep breath.

"He'll be fine, Father." Damian waves his fork, "On an unrelated note, would you perhaps be opposed to pasta for lunch?"

Duke fucking loses it.

===

"Well?" Damian sits himself down delicately, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, expectantly.

They're down in the Cave, sitting across from each other at the round table in the main area, side by side.

Tim rolls his eyes, fine. No pleasantries then. "Are you considering joining the family business?"

Damian tilts his head, puppy-like, not that he'll ever say that to his face. "Which one?"

And that's a fair point. "Either. Any."

Damian purses his lips, in the same exact way Bruce does, thinking. "I am undecided. Why?"

"I was thinking that it was time for me to start making moves to…" Tim wants to be delicate here, considering the history Damian has, "…well, move on."

"Be more clear, Drake." And wow, the way Damian furrows his brow in annoyance is identical to Jason, "Use your words."

Tim huffs. "Robin, Demon Brat." Tim enunciates his words, trying not to smile at the way Damian perks up. "I want to retire."

Damian eyes him mistrustfully, darting from Tim's coffee cup, to his tablet, even to the BatComputer where Tim has a DNA sample running. "…I highly doubt that."

"UGH," Tim groans, "I want to rebrand, so I'm giving you the Robin domino or whatever."

"The Robin mantle must be earned," Damian puffs up like an irate Pomeranian, making Tim laugh for more reasons than one.

"I already retired once." Tim informs him, "Steph was Robin for a hot minute, making her own suit from a Halloween costume."

"She what." Damian's voice is dangerous, but Tim flaps a hand. He can blow steam as much as he wants, he's the baby of the family and despite it all Tim's 87% sure Damian wouldn't hurt a fly.

…Maybe a solid 66%. He'll have to run the numbers.

"She gave it up to be Spoiler real quick," Tim continues, "And then some shit happened, and though he wasn't officially a Robin, Duke was part of the We Are Robin movement."

Damian fumes in silence, which shouldn't be funny, but is.

"In other words, Demon Brat," Tim smirks, "Lots of people have been Robin. And if you don't take it now, well…who's to say someone else won't just…make their own costume?"

Tim waits out Damian's breathing exercises, patient and frankly, uncaring. He fiddles on his tablet, sips at his coffee, considers new vigilante names. With Dick now acting as Nightwing, the transition to Young Justice won't be as confusing even if he did join up as Robin, but Tim would rather not.

Just thinking about the mistaken identity issues with Dick's romantic history is already giving him nightmares. Slim as the chances are, with their builds being so different, but Tim just doesn't want to take that chance.

"Fine." Damian finally says, "I concede. When will training start?"

Tim scoffs. "You're League trained, so you'll just be shadowing for protocol. There's a manual somewhere that Bruce made, but we mostly treat it as a guideline. The Batkids have their own that they update, and you already have access to that on your tablet." Tim gives him a look. "Tell me you need access."

Damian wisely stays silent. Tim remembers that the League isn't really attuned to the intricacies of hacking and coding, but Damian has had no trouble snooping through the system from what Tim has seen. He wonders if the League just got upgraded since Cass got trained, or if Damian is self taught. It doesn't matter.

"Right. Well, Dick said he'll take you on a mission whenever your schedule is open, and you can shadow me on my current patrol, move around. You won't be able to patrol on your own for a while but—"

"What will be your new name?" Damian interrupts, eyebrow raised. Curious.

"Oh—uh. I haven't thought about it." Tim stutters. He didn't expect Damian to ask—

"Liar." Damian accuses, squinting at him.

Tim sighs. "I dunno, Red Robin?"

"That's a terrible name." Damian's nose scrunches. "A stupid name, even."

"Wha—it is not!" Tim slams his tablet down. Damian's eyes suddenly go wide, horror dripping through his tone.

"Drake—tell me you did not simply combine Red Hood and Robin."

Tim stays absolutely fucking silent, grabbing his coffee to keep his mouth occupied.

"Drake, I implore you to be better than this." Damian slaps a hand over his face, which is rude.

"Hey! That is—that is just uncalled for—" Tim pulls his cup down, almost spilling it. He swears, but Damian pays no heed to him.

"I knew you were a fan of Todd's Robin, but this cannot go on. Did you expect me to graduate and become Green Robin?"

"No! That's stupid, there's not such thing as a green robin—"

"There's no such thing as a red robin either! Unless you wish to be named after a subpar restaurant." Damian throws his hands up.

"You've never even been to a Red Robin!" Tim sputters, and tries to get a handle on the situation.

He fails.

"You have at least sixteen unique aliases with full on back stories that you successfully keep track of and disguise yourself into, and you cannot do any better than Red Robin?" Damian says, loudly, over his protests and effectively silencing him,

Tim opens his mouth, closes it. Shuts his eyes. Grumbles. "Well I'd like to see you come up with a better name…"

"Cardinal." Damian gets up, stalking towards the secret entrance, clearly done with this conversation. "I cannot fathom how little sense you have. Ridiculous."

And well. Tim hates to say it, but Cardinal is much better than Red Robin.

Gods damn it.

===

"I will name her Batcow." Dick refuses to coo. Damian is covered in blood and wielding a sword, this is not cute behavior!

How did this happen? This was their first mission. It was supposed to be easy. Tomorrow, Tim was going to take him out on patrols. The weekend after that, Jaybird was going to take him paintballing. Steph and Duke were going to teach him how to prank people harmlessly. This was supposed to be nice, easy Robin bonding!

"That's nice, baby bird." Dick tries to placate, "We can shuffle her with the other cows to their new home—"

"Nightwing," Damian's voice brokers no argument, "I have claimed her."

Dick has to wonder if he was as much of a menace when he was this age. He wasn't, surely. Sure, he got Ace in an unconventional way, but Ace was practically made for hero-ing.

Not to mention Ace was a dog.

"It's great that you want a pet," Dick tries again, "But how about we start with a dog first? Maybe a cat?"

Damian thinks on that a bit, before nodding. Dick sighs a great sigh of relief.

"I would like one of each." Wait. What? No. Nononono—

Cackling echoes in the comms, the hysterics of Steph and Jaybird loud and guffawing in his ear.

"Stop laughing and help me." Dick hisses into the comms as Damian starts flicks the blood of his sword.

"I used to put him in, in air jail." Jaybird says through gulps of air, "Y'know, pick him up wh-hen he was acting n-naughty."

"That isn't exactly applicable here, Hood!" Dick grits through his teeth, causing Steph to shriek in high pitched laughter.

"We will have to take the jet," Damian interrupts, "Batcow will not fit on our motorcycles."

"No, Robin—we, uhm. We don't have room for a cow at home—" Dick wants to tear his hair out. He's too young for this, surely.

Heedless of his words, Damian starts to gently lead the cow towards him, raising a single eyebrow.

"Okay, well. We do have room, but that doesn't mean—"

"Nightwing. Robin." Dick has never been more glad to hear Bruce's voice, "Leave the cow with the proper authorities and report back to the Cave."

"Father," Damian's voice suddenly changes, "I would like to take Batcow home."

"…Robin," Bruce starts, but is summarily interrupted.

"Father, you have missed twelve of my birthdays." Damian's voice goes wobbly, despite Dick physically seeing that his face is stone cold, "And I have not once received a gift."

There's a long silence, and Dick slumps. What the fuck do you even say to that?

"…The jet will pick you up in 3 minutes."

"And the dog and cat?" Damian's voice is smug.

Dick sighs. "I'll take you to the shelter tomorrow."

The comms peak, from the sheer volume of Jay and Steph's mocking laughter.

===

Bruce enters his study with a tablet in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 

It's been a long day.

He’s tired, preoccupied with thoughts of Damian starting school soon. The rest of his children seem to be causing some kind of trouble trying to celebrate it in their own way, and it's giving Bruce a minor headache about it.

Talia's continuous demands of pictures and actual reports is both heartwarming and excessive, but Bruce can hardly blame her.

His eyes should be scanning through the documents that Lucius sent over this morning and is still awaiting approval for. 

What his eyes catch on instead is a new addition to his Gray Ghost shelf. 

It’s an action figure of the eponymous hero, one in almost pristine condition. A first edition. 

Inside the cloche with the Gray Ghost gun is a miniature version resting just beside it. The RC car also has a miniature version perched next to its front wheel. Between the trilby and the goggles lay two hands and a miniature case of the first DVD release.

He tilts his head, feeling his eyebrow raise and a smile crawl up as he picks up the action figure to inspect it. It looks old, but clean. Not quite used, but not sitting on a shelf either—there’s little knicks here or there. Perhaps found in a garage sale somewhere? It’s not even his birthday—still, the gift warms his heart as anything involving his children does.

Now, which one of his kids did this, he wonders?

No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. His children are terrible at keeping secrets, and he isn't Batman for nothing.

He places the figure gently back down in its place, and settles in for the long haul.

===

Talia sits, straight backed with her legs crossed in a highly uncomfortable chair.

Next to her, her Beloved looks lovely in his turtle neck and slacks, comfy, even.

She looks around the room, noting the whiteboard and assortment of small desks behind them,

There are motivation posters, and informational ones with equations listed upon them.

Talia refrains from scoffing, but really, what is the point of putting the answer up on the wall? How will they learn if they have such a crutch?

"Now," The portly man sitting across from them behind a large desk coughs to clear their throat, "Damian has shown high intelligence, his grades are top of the class and he has shown such high promise that the other teachers and I have discussed whether or not it would be beneficial for him to move up grades."

"I believe the principal and I already had this conversation, Mr. Porter." Bruce smiles, but it isn't the nice one, "Dami has always been a smart boy, but he was home-schooled, and we were more concerned about his socialization."

"Ah, yes. Well. The girls in the class seem to find him charming, albeit stoic. He is gentlemanly for his age, and doesn't really participate in…" Mr. Porter coughs once more.

Talia rolls her eyes. "In idle immaturity?"

"Well, yes. It's just—well," Mr. Porter tugs at his collar, "It's just boys being boys really."

"Has he made any friends? Of either gender?" Bruce asks, giving Talia a warning look. She shrugs, putting on her best innocent smile.

"Oh! Yes, one boy, Colin Wikes." Mr. Porter takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, "They seem to get along, in their own quiet way."

"That's lovely!" Talia's voice goes high, fake. Bruce winces, but she ignores him, "So his grades are up, he's made a friend, and overall he's popular with the ladies!"

"W-well, yes, but the other boys—"

"Now, now. Bruce is a lady-killer himself, and he managed to figure out male friendships eventually!" Talia simpers,"He had such a close friendship with Harvey Dent after all, before that whole...fiasco."

Bruce sighs, but again, Talia ignores him. "Now, I hear that my son has a talent in art? I see that none of them are hung up—"

This is very important business after all.

No-one can stop her from achieving her mission.

===

Jason opens his door carefully, quietly.

His traps have been disabled and reset, and Jason can only think of two people who would do that.

Both of them came from the League, and both of them don't take kindly to being startled.

He drops his work bag, the one for his mechanic's job, down in the entrance way. He takes of his heavy boots and treads silently through the apartment to find out which sibling came to visit.

He's greeted by Damian, asleep on his couch with an open and currently in danger of falling copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Jason quickly tiptoes over, grabs the book before it can fall to the ground, grabbing the kid's bookmark—a pressed flower that Cass made for him—and placing it to the side.

The fact that the kid hasn't woken up is testament to their time in the League.

Jason's been getting bits and pieces back, ever since he got shot and saw double vision of Damian and a younger version of the kid administering first aid to him.

Talk about shock therapy.

It's not all that pleasant, the memories.

He remembers the grueling training, the pain and anguish and fear of not remembering. Not knowing who he was, knowing Robin was important, not knowing what to do.

But not all of them are bad.

He remembers forcing Damian to brush his teeth for longer than 2 minutes, remembers tucking the tyke in with the bear, even the figure.

He remembers various missions, where he would pick up Damian and carry him to the nearest food stand to make him try an assortment of street foods with a series of flailing movements. Remembers the feeling of accomplishment and pride whenever the little guy would express it was adequate, because that was as good as a 5 star rating.

He remembers carrying him, hastily packed duffle bag and all, and thinking Gotham, Gotham is the safest place to be but not knowing why.

Mostly he remembers watching Damian sleep, peacefully, like he is now.

Because it's novel, then and now, how Damian trusts him enough to do it.

He sits himself down for a moment, always a little woozy when memories come surfacing up, breathing deep and leaning back. It's getting easier to remember, and Leslie had said it would stop eventually, so he weathers it out.

A second later, something warm thumps into his lap.

Damian has his head there, hands fisted like kitten's paws, curling up like a little ball.

Jason sees double, triple, memories and memories of watching this boy sleep and feeling honored and responsible and attached to him.

Brothers in arms, Talia had said, back when he wasn't quite himself, but wasn't Damian's Robin anymore either. You have a brother—

Jason had cut her off then, yelling that no replacement could ever be his brother.

He had eaten his words then, and he's eating them now too.

He lays a hand on Damian's back, rubs up and down his tiny shoulder blades, the way Bruce did when he was first adopted.

Brothers indeed.

He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to breathe in the peace.

He falls asleep like that, dreaming of teddy bears and robins, and deadly, deadly assassins.

some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]

(and tim and alfred the cat)