#i wish it were a hoax

[chaoticdesertdweller]

This one hurts bad. Fuck 2023 already. Rest easy, David. Thank you for everything. 💔

[lupismaris]

Sometimes I stop and remember that two of my favorite authors were a 6'3" Irishman and a 6'1" Scotsman

There's no real relevance to this information other than I thoroughly enjoy the mental picture of the two of them lunching together

[oatbugs]

do u ever have a dream so deep and involved u feel like u should never recover from it . anyway i had the longest dream about death !! hmm . anyway big tw for death and stuff abt it in the tags

[hgduo]

I hope the upcoming qsmp stream is just this but with the gg ninjas

[thatfreshi]

It's Over (Astarion x Reader)

Hella angst. Will most likely write a part two because I can't see them sad for too long :(

Tw - gore, couple arguing, panic attack

Recommended Song: hoax - Taylor Swift

It's time. Astarion rips Cazador's body from the coffin, bloodlust in his eyes. You've had your doubts about the rite, about Astarion ascending, but he seemed insistent. He whispered sweet things about how he only wanted to keep both of you safe, and it made your skin crawl. Your precious lover, the pale vampire you came to love, he wanted that horrific power for himself, but at what cost?

"Astarion, stop."

His eyes meet yours.

"What my dear? Want to drink me in before I become the ascendant?"

"You don't know what you're doing."

He scoffs.

"Sure I do. Sacrifice the spawn, get rid of Cazador, leave the past behind! We can leave it all behind."

"You'll become just like him, you can be better than this."

"As if I could ever be the monster he is."

Astarion goes to start the ritual, to become something he was never meant to be. Something in you simply snaps, and you grab for your knife.

"What do you need that for?"

Your breathing gets heavy. Thoughts of your adventures, how long it took you to get here, how badly he wanted this, to finally feel safe. He can't help but stare at your shaking figure, wondering what the sudden stress is all about. You say nothing, instead taking a few steps towards the center of the room, by the vampire lord's defenseless body.

"Tav, what are you-"

And suddenly you're on your knees, plunging your knife into Cazador's chest, letting the blood spurt out of his skin, flying into your eyes.

"TAV!"

Astarion scrambles to fight the knife out of your hands, ignoring your tears. His master is already gone though, long gone, his lifeless corpse bleeding out all over the floor. He's frantic, your limbs crashing against each other.

"What have you done?!"

His cries turn into a shout, somewhere warbled between fear and anger.

"He was mine Tav, you knew he was mine!"

Checking for any sign that the vampire is still alive, he has trouble catching his breath. He quickly comes to his feet, realizing it's a fruitless endeavor. The vampire spawn mumbles to himself.

"It can still work, it has to work."

You get up to follow him, trying to get him to turn and face you.

"My lo-"

"Don't! You said you'd help me, you said you'd help me do this!"

Tears start to form in his eyes as the crushing anxiety turns his breathing into a choked wheeze, the beginning of a panic attack ensuing.

"I- I can't- you said."

"Aster, Aster listen to me, please."

You desperately try to hold onto him as he breaks from your grasp, becoming more scattered. He tries to form another sentence, filled with rage and sorrow.

"You... you lied to me! I-"

His body starts to crumble into yours, unsure of where else to go.

"I know. I'm sorry my love. I'm sorry."

The two of you come to the ground, him lying in your arms.

"I'm so sorry Astarion. I did what I had to, I couldn't see you become that monster. I just couldn't lose you like that."

He tries to choke out words in his mumbling breath.

"Hush, you're not breathing. I need you to breathe."

The rest of your companions watch on, knowing this was the plan if you couldn't get Astarion to give up the rite. Most of them can barely watch as he falls apart. You try to rub up and down his back, setting some kind of pace for his breath, but he just keeps trying to talk.

"How could you do this to me..."

It stings, making you wonder if you were wrong, if he'll hate you after this. He probably hates you right now.

"I know, I'm sorry."

He wasn't wrong. After wishing to complete the ascension for so long, ever since Raphael told him of the rite, it felt terrible to take it from him like this. But you knew better, that deep down you were saving him. You just didn't yet know at what cost. He continues to sit in your embrace, and you keep whispering sweet words. At some point his breathing starts to even out, but he just sobs more and more. You can hear Shadowheart and Gale murmuring behind you, somewhere that feels so far from this moment.

"Why?"

His question distracts you from the conversation off in the distance. You don't even know what to say. What in this moment could possibly convince him that this is for the best? He's just scared. He's always been scared, but he doesn't have to become the fear.

"You would've lost yourself. We all would've lost you Aster. I would've lost you."

He almost tries to argue with you, but loses his voice in the misery. It's over. He can't complete it now. You've made his decision for him.

When it comes time to go, he doesn't walk alongside you. The group makes their way back to the inn, and he simply silently walks amongst your companions, as he often did before you ever fell in love. Shadowheart makes her way to the back of the group.

"You did what you had to do. He'll see that eventually."

You liked her words, now you just had to believe them.

Despite the obvious tension, you end up in your room together, and for the first time in a long time he doesn't yearn for your touch. He lays on the bed as far as he can from you, leaving the blankets and sheets up to your discretion. There's not a thought behind his eyes, just shock, and that nagging fear that won't go away.

"I love you."

Astarion doesn't say it back, instead finding that it's too hard to try and sleep in the same room as you. He quickly gets up and storms out of the room, slamming the door. Your tears fall into the sheets he left you with. He ends up knocking on Gale's door, not sure where else to go. Usually he'd make fun of the wizard for various reasons, but he just averts his gaze, until he lets him in.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gale asks, clearly very tired from today's events.

"No. I just want to be angry."

The man of the weave sighs.

"We all would've done the same. Tav was just the one to execute it."

"There's a very big difference in saying you'd do something, and actually doing it."

Gale lets the conversation go, allowing a space for Astarion to sleep on the bed, grabbing a spare blanket from the chair in the corner.

"They really love you. I know it may not seem like it right now, but Tav loves you more than I've ever seen anything be loved."

"Did I come here to be lectured?"

"Ugh, no. But you can't stay mad at them forever Astarion."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The next morning join your companions downstairs for a sloppily prepared breakfast. Wyll and Lae'zel look prepared to take on the day, talking about Githyanki fighting techniques. Shadowheart and Halsin look over your stock of herbs and potions, and Karlach helps Gale serve up food. Astarion is nowhere to be found. The wizard must've seen the worry in your eyes.

"He's in my room."

You let out a silent 'oh,' and take a serving of breakfast. After a couple minutes of moving the mixture around, you can't seem to force yourself to eat.

"Just go check on him, you're not fooling anyone."

Shadowheart gives you a sad smile. You pass her your food and go back upstairs, finding Gale's room. A soft knock against the door, the sound of the bed creaking inside.

"Aster, my love?"

No response. Against your better judgement, you open the door slowly.

"I don't really feel like talking Tav."

He's reading some tome Gale had lying around, trying to distract himself.

"I know. I just wanted you to know, I really am sorry."

Astarion sighs, setting the book down on the mattress.

"Alright, so we are talking then! Great, whatever you want."

"Don't be like that."

"Be like what? Be mad that you made a very important choice for me, against my will?"

You close the door behind you, knowing it's probably going to get ugly.

"Don't shut me out and pretend like we don't need to have this conversation, is what I meant."

"Fine. We'll have this conversation then."

He checks his nails, trying his best not to look you in the eye.

"I told you what I wanted, I told you what was important to me, and you lied. You lied and said you'd help me get what I want, what I wanted for both of us."

"I didn't think there would be any convincing you until you saw it all again."

"What? All of my mistakes? All the poor innocent people I lured to Cazador? No, not even Sebastian could stop me from finally having the power I deserved. But you? You thought that was your place?"

You squeeze your fist, trying to think of a way to reason with him.

"Even Cazador was like you once. And you saw what he became."

"You're implying I would enslave people and cut them up for fun? After all I've been through?"

"No! I'm just saying it changes people, that kind of power consumes you."

"And who are you to choose that for me? After I've had a million choices made for me, you thought that's what I'd want?"

He stands now, walking over to finally face you.

"I trusted you, and you lied."

Tears fill his eyes again.

"I wanted this for both of us, so we could both be safe forever, and you took that from me!"

"Do you think that's what I would've wanted? To be your little pet? Sit in some grand palace while you have all the power you could ever want?"

"I'd never treat you like that, and you know that Tav."

"Yes, but a vampire lord would, and that's what you'd be. You're not some special case Astarion! You don't become a true vampire, especially from a rite like that, and still be a good person."

"I never wanted to be a good person Tav. I just wanted to be free."

You try to grab onto his hand. At first he avoids your touch.

"You are free. We're free, we can do whatever we want! I gave us that!"

He almost wraps his hand in yours, but pulls back.

"I don't know that though. I'll never truly know that. Cazador may be dead, but now all those spawns are in the Underdark. They could try to come for me, or there could be some Gur on the prowl."

"And we'll all keep you safe. I'll keep you safe my love, I swear it."

For the first time since you've entered, he stares straight at you the whole time he speaks.

"I don't know if that's enough to keep me from hating you right now."

His words stab holes in your heart.

"You don't mean that."

"Don't you tell me what I fucking mean. No one gets to control me anymore. Not you, not Cazador, no one."

"I don't want to control you!"

"What do you call taking my choice away then? You're no better than him."

You almost gasp, breath caught in your throat, stunned by the fact that he would dare compare you to that man.

"Fine. You think I'm just like him? You think I want to control you? I'll make it real easy then. It's over, you can do whatever you want and you don't have to ever take me into consideration again!"

He tries to throw more venom at you, but you leave and slam the door before he can get the words out. You don't even stop by your room to grab anything, instead you storm out of the inn, walking past all your companions without a word. Shadowheart tries to call after you, but to no avail. You're lost in the crowds almost immediately, not even sure where you're going. Just away from him. Away from the only thing you've truly loved.

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

[renardiererin]

THE GREAT WAR a social media au starring rockstar!rintarou suna, and musician!reader

synopsis -> you used to know rintarou. you knew him back before the world did. you used to know him better than you knew yourself. but nothing perfect ever lasts, does it? after awhile he just stopped responding. you tried to block out every headline you saw featuring his name, and focus on your own music career rather than his own. but when one of his bandmates reaches out to you and asks you to open for their upcoming tour, you find yourself stuck traveling all around the world with the man whose inflicted pain inspired most of your first album.

warnings -> potentially some suggestive content (but no explicit smut), probably some flashback moments, probably alcohol content, swearing, etc.

tags -> smau, social media au, rintarou suna, rintarou suna smau, celebrity smau, rockstar suna, exes to ?, little bits of humor i hope, angst, band au

ongoing! [8/22/23] playlist

profiles

akaashi fanclub / dicks with instruments

table of contents / masterlist *titles may be subject to change along the way !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act i - the act of acceptance 1. my knuckles were bruised like violets

2. i can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

3. i know we cut all the ties but you never really listen

4. yes i got your letter, yes i'm doing better

5. seeing you tonight... it's a bad idea, right?

6. love is never logical

7. when facing the things we turn away from

8. i wanna get him back (i want sweet revenge; i want him again)

9. we had matching wounds

10. did you see me on tv?

11. put my name at the top of your list

12. i’ve gotten what i wanted, it’s just not what i imagined

13. none of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again

14. stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act ii - the act of love and loss 1. still all over me like a white stained dress i can't wear anymore

2. the small things that you do are what remind me why i fell for you

3. don't just sit in front of me and wait for me to talk

4. flashback: i was only 17 when she first made me feel like a man

5. i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you

6. i can see you saying: "meet me tonight"

7. you, oh you, it's always been you

8. i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show

9. imma make a move, if you know what i mean

10. jump then fall into you

11. your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

12. you told me you love me, so why did you go away?

13. i lived in your chess game

14. when i'm nothing new

15. i hate that because of you i can't love you

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙 act iii - the act of isolation and irritability 1. i know that i should hate you

2. when did it end? all the enjoyment?

3. falling feels like flying til the bone crush

4. flashback: for awhile you were all mine

5. i hope you're not happy without me

6. i love you but i need another year alone

7. i didn't have it in myself to go with grace

8. flashback: when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave

9. come back to me like you could if you'd just say you're sorry

10. i try to ignore it everytime you phone... but i never come close

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act iv - the act of reconciliation 1. you used a fork once

2. you will love me until you resent me

3. i wish you knew that i'll never forget you as long as i live

4. i miss you too much to be mad anymore

5. can't turn back now i'm haunted

6. if you're out there if you're somewhere if you're moving on

7. you can hear it on the way home

8. this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

9. don't want no other shade of blue but you

10. until the poets run out of rhymes

11. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck

12. this love came back to me

13. what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act v - the act of the epilogue 1. outside they're push and shoving / you're in the kitchen humming

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

a/n: hii okay i haven't written an smau in literal years so im just hoping this doesn't suck and that you can enjoy it :) mwah i love each and every one of you who is reading this note & this smau rn <3 thank you all my loves !

taglist

@kiyoily @akumakitsune21 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dani-shitting-around @alienvarmint @reverie-starlight @honeythebarbie @bootlegroach @tsukiran @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @coyloves @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @ilovejujitsukaisen @dontmindtheevie

taglist is open <33 comment here to be added !

[bixbythemartian]

walrus vs. fairy

the funny part is that people who answer walrus are mostly like 'I disagree, but I understand why you would answer fairy' and the people who answered fairy are tearing their hair out. some of them are getting mad and/or mean about it, which is kind of upsetting.

so, I will try to help explain.

this will not be about walrus logistics, I promise.

some people believe in fairies. full stop.

fully believe they are real. probably a lot more people than you would be happy about, but you have to allow for this to be true.

even among those who don't wholeheartedly believe in fairies, there's a lot more people who are agnostic about fairies.

people willing to admit that they're not sure if fairies are real, but willing to hedge on the side of maybe the fairies are real.

like, if you rephrased the question 'would you be more surprised to see an angel or a walrus at your door' you would probably be less surprised to see that people would be more shocked at the walrus, because you probably already understand that a lot of people believe in angels and consider them real, whether or not you believe in angels personally

also the SPN fandom would go ham on that, probably. (this is said with deep affection)

there was a fairly famous road built in Ireland that got rerouted because there was a bush that was important to fairies. (source) the fairy tree stalled the plans for the road for a fucking decade. this happened in my lifetime. people talked about it happening on the internet as it was happening, it's not some weird thing that happened in the middle of nowhere in the 1950s or something. they agreed to go around the damned bush in 1999. I know that seems a long time ago to some of y'all, but it really, really isn't.

there are still people who think the cottingley fairies were real. not a huge amount, but I hope enough to make my point- there's some people who believe in fairies so much and want them to be real so much that they think a famous prank (hoax is stretching it, imo, these girls were pranking their families and the press kind of coincidentally got involved) proves the existence of fairies.

there's a lot, lot, lot more people who believe in fairies and also will admit the cottingley fairies weren't real. the cottingley fairy truthers are a small a percentage of the people who believe in fairies.

I cannot emphasize enough that there are plenty of people who believe fairies are real and even more that could be very easily convinced that fairies are real

people have believed in fairies and been superstitious about fairies for a long, long fucking time

setting aside all of that

some people are more likely to see a thing that isn't real at their door than they are to see a living fucking walrus at their door.

fevers, migraines, mental stress, sleep deprivation (especially if you have sleep disorders, like insomnia or narcolepsy), and infection (among a very long list of other things), and prescription medication side effects can all cause visual hallucinations, and they're all states that you might not be aware that you're in when you start to see weird shit.

these are just the really mundane ones I plucked up off the list.

I have experienced hallucinations due to sleep dep and insomnia. unfortunately, for me, this manifested as a spider the size of a border collie (I wish I were joking) and not fairies, but fairies is a possibility that cannot be counted out.

I'm way more likely to have sleep deprivation and a migraine and a fever all at once than I am to see a walrus in person at a zoo, much less at my door.

it has happened before. it will happen again. it's happening right fucking now.

the fairies can have my birth name if they will take away my migraine.

just putting that out there.

I've never seen a walrus in person at all. I would like to, but it's not likely. there's not any in any of the zoos nearby that I could find.

current likelihood of me seeing a fairy on my doorstep is significantly higher than me seeing a fucking walrus. I am in a physical state where I have had visual hallucinations before, and it's not impossible I will have them again. I would not be particularly surprised, even.

as long as it's not the goddamn massive spider. I even like most spiders, but that is too much spider.

[justmystyles]

Hi, could you make a fic about something to do with money maybe Harry dating a girl who came from not much and she still isn’t used to the fancy things in life like he is and so when there dating she feels bad ever spending his money.

I’m currently having to sell most of my Harry merch because we can’t afford to fix things in our house and I am very sad over it so I just need some comfort but if you decide not to write this, you’re still one of my favorite writers. Thank you for all the comfort you bring me.

Love Don't Cost A Thing

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: to my anonymous requester, i am so sorry for the hard times you have found yourself in. i wish i had something i could say that would help you through. just know that hard times don't last forever, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and i am hoping and praying that you reach it soon.

also, thank you so much for your kind words. i am so incredibly honored that you consider me one of your favorite writers, that compliment made more than just my day, i think it may have made my whole summer. i hope this blurb is what you are looking for, and provides you the comfort you need right now.

if you ever need someone to talk to, i am here. i may not be able to provide much, but i am happy to be a listening ear (reading eye?) if you need one. 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The waiter drops the check at your table, thanking you for coming in and continues on his way. You reach your hand out to grab it, but Harry beats you to it. Again.

“Harry, you don’t have to–” 

“I know, baby, but I want to. I love spoiling my girl.” He reaches his free hand across the table, squeezing yours gently. 

Ever since you and Harry started going out, you hadn’t paid for a thing. Not only that, but the things he’s been paying for have been extravagant and way outside of your comfort zone. The gifts, the meals, the flowers, the flights. He has taken you around the world and back, and has refused to let you pay for any of it.

Holidays and birthdays had been hard too. Harry always gave you multiple extravagant gifts, you could never even come close to matching it. He told you he didn’t care, that your gifts were always so meaningful, and that’s what was important. You knew he meant it, that he didn’t need you to buy him fancy things. He was more than capable of doing it himself. But it didn’t matter to you, you felt an imbalance in the relationship that was only growing with time. And you were sure that the gossip blogs and fans noticed it, talking about how you were just with him for his money. It wasn’t true, you and Harry knew that and it should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 

You didn’t grow up poor, you were grateful for what you had and knew that there were others that were worse off than you. But you didn’t even have half of what you were experiencing now. Your parents raised you to be practical with your money, to save and not to spend frivolously. You always had what you needed, but weren’t always able to have what you wanted. 

Now that you were with Harry, even if you just made an offhand comment about a cute piece of jewelry or clothing, all of the sudden it was yours. You love Harry, and you know he was doing it because he loves you too, but it still didn’t sit right with you. 

Later that night, you were laying in bed together. Harry was talking to you about his schedule for the upcoming month.

“So I was thinking you could come meet me in Paris. We could go to that little cafe we love, do a little shopping.” He suggested with a smile, loving the idea of walking through the most romantic city in the world with the love of his life. 

“Sure,” you agreed. “I could probably swing the money for a round trip ticket.” 

“You’re not swinging anything,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

“Harry, I can afford a flight.” You’re not sure you really can. You’ll probably eat canned goods and boxed mac and cheese for a month, but it’s better than the guilt you feel every time Harry opens his wallet for you. 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m asking you to come spend time with me, it should be my treat.” 

“Yeah, but everything is always your treat, Harry.” You say with a slight bite in your tone. 

Harry looks at you confused, and a little bit hurt. “Angel, are you alright?” 

“No Harry, I don’t think I am,” you confess. “I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel okay.” Harry stays silent, allowing you to say what you need too. “I love you so much, and you have the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. I just, it’s just too much. The meals, the gifts. You don’t let me pay for anything, I feel like… I don’t know. I know you don’t see a problem with it, but I do. It just makes me feel… uncomfortable. I’m basically living off of your money, and I don't feel right about it.”

“Baby,” he said as he let out a breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.” He brought his hand up, brushing your cheek gently. 

“I know you didn’t. And it’s a me problem, I know that too.” 

Harry shakes his head sharply. “No it’s not, it’s an us problem. You’re my girl, we’re in this together.” You look down, overwhelmed by how tender he was being with you despite the way you unloaded on him. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, it sounds kind of crazy when you think about it.”

“How?” He asked.

“Because, there are girls that would kill to be in my position, who would love to be spoiled and given all these extravagant gifts, and here I am complaining about it. I sound so ungrateful.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Harry holds your face in his hands. “You do not sound ungrateful.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, I love you so much and I give you all of these things because you deserve the world.”

“I love you too, but I don’t need all these things, the fancy dinners, the clothes, I just need you.”

He smiles softly at you, the adoration clear in his gaze. “I know angel, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your heart is so pure and good. I am so incredibly lucky that you have given it to me to hold, and I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, especially not because of my actions.” 

“I know, and that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you, I knew you’d feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad about doing nice things for me.” 

“Tell me what I can do, how I can make you feel better.” He asked, willing to do anything to make you happy. 

You take a deep breath as you try to articulate your needs. “When I offer to pay for things, let me.”

Harry nods in agreement, pulling your face to his and kissing you softly. “Anything you want, love.” 

“And just because I say something is cute, doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me.” You add. 

“Got it,” he kisses you again. “But I can still spoil you sometimes, right?” 

“Sometimes,” you say in a subtle warning tone. “Just not all the time.”

Harry smiles, his brow arching mischievously. “How about I spoil you right now, and it won’t cost a cent.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the implication of his words. “Sure, I guess I’d be okay with that.” 

[starshipsofstarlord]

I've waited a thousand hours to tell you exactly how I feel, but you don't deserve an explanation

Warnings - cheating, angst, break up (0.8k)

damon salvatore works other tvd works masterlist

Damon had once enjoyed tormenting human beings, all because he could. There was a violent anger within his cursed soul, he wanted others to suffer just as he had. It hadn't been his choice to be turned into a vampire, however that was now the reality of his life, and so he had chose to embrace the tragedy that had arose his body from initial death instead of holding resent towards it.

But once again he was emoting regret; he had hurt her. Y/N was everything that he had searched for in his 173 years of existence, she made him feel as though he was alive again. Damon was vastly aware that he wasn't the better brother, it was in his blood to be gullible when it came to making mistakes. And that was what he had done once again.

There was nobody that Y/N knew who was as self destructive as Damon, he was unable to accept a good thing without ruining it first. So here Y/N was, in ruins as she sat at the bar, nursing a strong drink as though it would numb the wound that Damon had made in her. She had spent decades loyal by his side, but she was foolish to have ever thought that he would be content with somebody that wasn't a Katherine knock off.

Sometimes the woman liked to convince herself that Katherine had sired him just to make herself feel better. But despite her dark hopes, it wasn't true and she was only temporarily blinding herself to the surrounding reality.

Damon's heart ached as he viewed his girl from afar, he wanted to run to her and hold her broken demeanour in his arms. He wanted forgiveness, what he and Elena had was nothing than a drunken night spent alone together. It would never happen again, he couldn't bear to see his Y/N in such a state. There was a glass of bourbon in his hand, but after his intoxicated rendezvous, he refused to drink.

He had fucked up, and there was no redeeming himself. His actions and wandering hands had been unjustified, in fact criminal as it had costed him the companionship that he craved. Y/N stood, leaving bills on the bar as she turned to leave, however her tracks of retreat were faulted to a stop as she saw him in her peripheral.

Y/N wished she could hurt Damon in the same way he had her, but it would be impossible. He had been unable to control his libido in the shared presence of another woman, and it evidently meant that he had never cared about her. She was just there on his arm for appearances, to show that he had moved on from his messy past. Others had been convinced of that up until now, and so had she, though they had all come to realise that it had all been a cruel hoax.

"Baby." He pleaded with the pet name that often times would make her melt, but she remained hard and stoic despite his conniving words. Y/N wondered if he had called Elena that in their time together, but it was best decided if she didn't know.

"I miss you." Damon proclaimed as though it would make things any better. All it did was blur Y/N's eyes with infinite tears and her break all over again. Her lips trembled as she stood in front of her unreliable lover, she could only see him as a stranger rather than the man that she had shared a bed with for a lifetime. Life only lasted so long, and it was understandable if their vampiric relationship did also, it was a shame it had to end the way it had though.

"I've waited a thousand hours to tell you exactly how I feel, but you don't deserve an explanation. We're over Damon, for good, I refuse to hold you back any longer. Be with Katherine, or Elena, or whoever the hell you want, as long as it's not me." Her shoulder collided with Damon's as she shoved past him, refusing to hear his apologies or regrets. He had lost her for once and for all, and there was undeniably nothing that he could do to make up for his careless reckoning.

Damon only wanted Y/N, but she no longer desired him. He had internally harmed her, and it was damage that would live within her for eternity. She had wasted far too long on the man that she had called hers, and through it she had somehow survived the anguish that she'd endured because of him. If he wanted forgiveness he would have to do more than grovel in self hatred, he would have to be responsible for saving her from the turmoil heart ache that had made her feel more human than the era in which she had been one.

[maidragoste]

You're doing the right thing

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: After an argument with your brother, you need someone to tell you that you are doing the right things and that your husband is there to support you.

It is part of the universe of the queen and her husbands but I think it can be read independently.

I MISSED WRITING AEMOND… I still feel like the ending was strange, sorry, I have to get used to writing it again 😓😓

Second one shot of the 1k followers special. Thanks for all the support, it always makes me happy to answer your questions and comments. reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥰🥰💕

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"I hate you!"

Aemond heard Viserys's shout and the door was flung open. The boy barely looked at him and continued walking, taking steps. The man watched until Viserys disappeared from his sight as the boy turned into another hallway. A part of Aemond wanted to go find his nephew, drag him to you, and force him to apologize. But he knew that would only make the situation worse.

The prince entered the chambers. His anger against your brother increased when he saw your slumped posture and your palms hiding your face. It wasn't the first time he saw you like this. You often found yourself in that position ever since Viserys had returned to court.

When that family from Lys showed up saying they had Rhaenyra Targaryen's youngest son with them, he and Aegon thought it was a hoax but realized it wasn't fake when they saw how you and Egg seemed to have gotten back together. life when they met the child. The melancholic Egg finally seemed to act like a child and he couldn't stop smiling while you couldn't stop hugging your brothers. Having Viserys back with you brought joy to your life. But also headaches.

"He doesn't mean it," your husband said rushing to your side.

"My mother should be taking care of this," you muttered to yourself.

You feel frustrated because it was your duty as an older sister to take care of Viserys. But you felt that you were fulfilling the role of mother. Your mother should be the one arguing with him and try to make him understand the situation. She should be the one enduring Viserys' anger and his yelling. You were sure that she would do the same as you because Viserys is a baby. He shouldn't be married at such a young age and the thought that he already consummated his marriage made you want to vomit.

"Please, tell me I'm not going crazy and that I'm not wrong," you asked, uncovering your face so you could see Aemond.

"Make me a place," he asked so you got up from the chair and let him sit down and then settle you on his lap. You rested your head on his chest and you felt a little better listening to your husband's heartbeat, whenever you were too anxious listening to his heartbeat calmed you down, and how he hugged you around the waist with one arm

“Of course, you're not crazy,” he said as he used his other hand to gently stroke your hair. “You're doing the right thing. He can't stay married to that girl. Breaking up the marriage was the best"

"I forced her to drink moon tea," you admitted sadly, remembering how you made the guards hold Larra Rogare down while you gave her the tea to drink. Your brother was a child and a child shouldn't be having a baby, he shouldn't be a father so you did what you had to do to prevent it. Despite that, you weren't proud of the way you handled the situation, you wished the girl would have taken the tea willingly.

“Again you did the right thing” he kissed your forehead “Viserys is only 12 years old. He can't be a father,” Aemond said, feeling uncomfortable remembering how young his sister was when Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born. Obviously, Viserys wouldn't be the one to bear his children but the thought of the child having to take care of a baby was so strange. Viserys had many things to learn before fulfilling the role of being a father.

“What if I'm taking his happiness away from him?” you asked in a whisper. You were sure of your decision. You couldn't allow your brother's marriage to continue or to continue sharing a bed. You couldn't let that Lyx family take advantage of him. But you feared that by removing Larra Rogare from King's Landing you would bring unhappiness to your brother. You wanted to believe that eventually, he would get over it but you were afraid that he would end up just like Egg. You loved Egg with all your soul but he had hard days where you couldn't get him out of his bed, days when he seemed lost in himself and you had to fight to feed or clean him. You didn't know if you would be able to bear seeing your two little brothers like this.

"What do you mean?" he asked confused.

"He says that he loves her and that I'm taking her happiness away from him," you said putting aside the insults and nasty comments about you and your husbands that Viserys made in the discussion.

"He thinks he loves her because he was held captive with her family," Aemond said with a frown.

You remained silent, you had said the same words to Viserys and he replied that in case you were not in love with your husbands either because her family held you captive. But it was different. You had fallen in love with Aemond before the war, and he did not marry you just for power. You secretly got married without knowing that there would soon be a war. The Rogare took advantage of a child that no one was looking for because everyone believed him dead. Your situation with Aemond and Aegon was nothing like that. They didn't take advantage of you.

"I know. I told him"

“Listen to me, he will grow up and in time he will realize that you were right. Give him time ”Aemond promised, kissing you now on the cheek, managing to get a small smile out of you“ When he grows up and marries a girl his age who really loves him, he will thank you on his knees ”

"Viserys will never do that" you rolled your eyes in amusement at your husband's exaggeration. Aemond was not one to exaggerate. You knew he was just doing it in an attempt to amuse you and you were very appreciative of that. "He is too proud"

As soon as you finished saying those words, the door was flung open. You were instantly up from Aemond's lap as Egg and Viserys entered. You ran to them when you saw that Viserys's cheek was red, with the clear mark of a hand. Soon your hands were on Viserys's face, carefully lifting his chin for more blows.

"What happened?" you asked concerned.

Aemond already knew what happened, you were so aware of Viserys's injury that you didn't notice how Egg was looking at Viserys with a cold fury. It wasn't normal to see the boy angry and when he was generally it was because someone had disrespected you (which didn't happen often because you're the queen and only an idiot would dare insult you). Aemond stopped himself from smiling. There was a reason Egg was the best he liked out of your brothers.

"Viserys came to apologize," Aegon said seriously.

"Aegon!" you said horrified realizing that he was responsible for the mark on your other brother's face “Don't do that again. Whatever problems Viserys and I have will be resolved without the need for violent intervention,” you declared, scowling at Aegon.

"He was being an idiot to you and he needed to realize it," your brother answered, crossing his arms and looking at Viserys with a raised eyebrow. Still waiting for him to apologize to you.

"I'm sorry," Viserys murmured.

You sighed before catching them both in a hug. "I don't want this to happen again, don't fight over me," you asked as you stroked Aegon's hair.

Aemond watched feeling satisfied because no matter what happened he knew that Egg would always defend you and he could always count on him to make Viserys think again. Aemond just wanted to see you happy and your brothers were a big part of happiness along with your children.

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[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?” 

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?” 

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.” 

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite. 

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt. 

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos. 

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.” 

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.” 

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt. 

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.” 

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center. 

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio. 

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.” 

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses. 

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.” 

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.” 

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.” 

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption. 

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.” 

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.” 

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.” 

Her as in you. 

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to  Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

 “We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.” 

“I did tell him the truth-“ 

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.” 

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates. 

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him. 

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?” 

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?” 

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?” 

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?” 

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together. 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.” 

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over. 

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie. 

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss. 

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well. 

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.” 

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance. 

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.” 

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!” 

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience. 

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did. 

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger. 

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.” 

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.” 

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.  

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end. 

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment. 

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth. 

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been. 

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back? 

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.” 

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat. 

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts. 

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you. 

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room. 

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano. 

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.” 

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before. 

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep. 

Were you ever his to keep, ever? 

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you. 

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you. 

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.” 

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off. 

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat. 

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock. 

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?” 

You were never his to keep. 

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew. 

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to. 

“I made loving you a blood sport.” 

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality. 

“I want to be forgiven.” 

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing. 

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk. 

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.  

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person. 

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone. 

You never came home. 

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again. 

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His  own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this. 

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night. 

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off. 

He never dropped the key. 

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated. 

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.” 

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page. 

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play. 

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness. 

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through. 

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench. 

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips. 

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you. 

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that. 

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[bts5sosempire]

the tyrant (vii)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,101 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, political, mentions of infertility, infant death, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you." 𝐚/𝐧: know y'all been waiting for this, got writer's block mid way too. Been seeing y'all wondering who got sacrifice too, and it shall be reveal 🤭. Thank you for all the support, lovely comments, and engagements too, it was fun seeing your guys reaction. Please like ❤️, comment in the "comment" section for tagging 📝, and reblogged too if you wish. Have a nice day lovelies! 💖

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The moment you fell was the moment you couldn't tell if you were alive or not; your whole body was numb for a second then it was blown hot like a furnace in pain. Yumi searched for help as Asuna was cradling you in her arms; you were fine just seconds ago. You couldn't move your body; it weighs like lead. The heavy pressure on your abdomen, especially where your womb lays, was excruciating. Everything inside there felt like it was being cut open and rearranged.

What's happening to you?

"Grab her and take her to her room! Bring a physician and fetch a pail along with a towel!" Uraume shouts, and everyone rushes. Even the slightest movement hurts you as you let out a low disgruntled moan when being lifted away by a guard. Asuna stood up, but Uraume raised a hand to stop her. "It would be best to retire to your chamber for the evening; what just occurred might affect heir Danzo."

"Will she be alright?" Asuna was concerned for your well-being.

"I don't know for sure," Uraume curtly told her. They don't; they were tasked to keep an eye on you. If Sukuna learns that you have fallen, Uraume will get reprimanded for failing to do something so simple.

[another side of the castle]

A maid checked up on their Mistress' baby to ensure they slept correctly and were warm. It was quiet when the maid arrived; they peered into the crib; the baby should be up and crying for its feeding time or at least coo. But it still slept peacefully. What threw them off was the child's complexion, pale and unearthly, like it was dead. They feared for the worst and curled a finger and set it underneath the baby's nose, and there wasn't a single breath when she waited for another few seconds.

"Mistress! The baby isn't breathing!" They shout and take the infant from the crib and huddle them into their chest.

[your bedroom]

Your servants set out your futon for you and usher to cool you before you even make it to bed. All the men in the room were escorted out. Your women retainers remained by your side and stripped you until nothing remained. They brought damp, wet, cold cloths to wipe away your sweats and set one on your forehead; Uraume remained outside your door. They were waiting patiently for the physician to arrive.

Uraume overlapped their arms one over the other and could hear the commotion on the other side.

[shaman's place]

"It is done," the shaman said; there was a quirked smile on their lips, "I reckoned you to take care of your wife, for this will be with pain." This time it was Sukuna's turn to throw a disparity watch, and the shaman had to reassure the man sitting across from him that is ready to strike him down. "Please don't be alarmed; what I mean is nothing comes free. What's taken is given, and this is a painful process, considering we're doing years of reversing any damages it might have caused her in an instant."

"What can you prove to me that this is true but not a hoax?" Sukuna inquiries and the shaman only laugh at those words.

"You did say 'yes' without doubt or conviction, did you not? Or did you only say the answer was out of sheer desperation and to test me?" Sukuna remains unmoving and unanswered, which confirms the shaman, "I can promise you I am the real deal; if you don't trust me, you can come back and slay me."

"By the time I get here, you'll be gone." The pink hair man pointed out, and the shaman could only throw their hand up and dismiss it with a wave on the side.

"I already accumulated too much bad karma, so meeting and being ended by you would be my fortune or not, by the fate above." Looking at Sukuna, he remains the same. What a tough nut to crack. "Each time I do a terrible deed, it will add to my bad points, and I will also take the other person's evil act with me. The reason why I am doing this is also a counteract those evil deeds as they can turn into good karmic until the day I die since I was willing."

So this man is playing a God and a Saint? How funny. Even though Sukuna was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Then, I'll take your word."

"That's all I'm asking for," the shaman grins.

Sukuna entered his apparel and threw three satchels of yen onto the table. "For your service." He gets off the ground and exits the building to return home.

The shaman waits and patiently listens until he can't hear Sukuna or his horse anymore. They took the cup Sukuna had drunk and looked at the leftover tea leaves inside. Every person who came to him; he made them drink a brewery that could determine either their or another's fate. What he didn't tell Sukuna was that it was for you since you're the primary target. The shaman only needs a connection, and Sukuna is perfect for that.

Studying the inside, this was a rare message.

Divine Retribution has intervened.

Whoever has wronged you got the message of the heavens from above. The shaman wasn't the one who directly took and gave it this time. They had happened to open the door simply for something else to do it for him. It was nothing but a coincidence.

°

The ride took a few hours to get back to, and once he made it back to his Castle ground, no one dared to look at him. Everyone was afraid, and Sukuna could feel the thick tension. "What is happening?" He got off of his steed and handed the reins to someone else.

"Your Lordship, Lady (Name) has suddenly fallen ill; her temperature kept rising, and we had managed to calm it down..." The mere mention of you had Sukuna almost bolting toward your chamber in haste, but the servant had another thing to say as they took a deep breath. "T-There is something else too, Your Lordship, Concubine Sena, and your child have passed away in their sleep."

Sukuna paused in his step, and the silence was deafening; the servant was ready to be slain, but they couldn't believe what came out of their Master's mouth next. "I see." The answer was curt and cold. Not even in their life could they stomach their master attitude of brushing the death of their child away that quickly again. Especially when this isn't the first death of Sukuna's child, they thought their master would at least acknowledge or show panic on their face for maybe once. They knew he was heartless, but to this degree, he was considered a monstrosity.

Sukuna: "Anything else you have to say?"

"No." Sukuna, rush off to your location.

[Hanami's room]

The news of one of her grandchildren passing away again was a surprise, considering this was Sena's second child, and it took her a while to conceive. Hanami wondered if this woman was just unlucky to lose both children. Sena lost her first child at three months of infancy, about two years ago, and now lost another that's only a month old, a few weeks shy away from being two.

Maybe the stigma of the Hanamiya's women was true. If she wasn't able to preserve life, then how could she keep her position? Sena's road could only end here.

But then her thoughts traveled to you; you fell into a fever haze not long before the death of Sena's child.

[your room]

Sukuna made their way inside and sat down next to you. You were slick in sweat, lips pale, and breath ragged. "You are all dismissed." Everyone single file out of the room and wait outside until further notice. The windows to your room are open as breezy airbrushes by and flutters a few of your things around. Your shoulders peak out from under the covers, and Sukuna grabs the basin and wet towel; he squeezes the excess out and cleans around your neck first and then any exposed skin.

You look peaceful but are in pain. Sukuna thought the shaman was drolling around, yet it was happening. Sukuna, once again, was a man who valued logic and statistics, not a man run by emotions or the whims of it; he even hardly believed in things tied to fate. This triumph his way views of superstitions and their forces by a fraction.

As a self-serving man, he got a taste of it.

"Bring in the physician." Sukuna summon.

°

"Surely, I thought you and the shaman claimed to be a sham, but it seems true," Sukuna said from across the room; he took a calligraphy brush and wrote a banknote. "What will happen to her now?" He picks up the note and gives it to the doctor, who hesitantly accepts it. They know this is nothing but hush money. The doctor looked at the amount; their mouth fell open a wide gape. "That's enough to start your clinic, no?"

They stutter to answer Sukuna, "No, this is fine, My Lord!" Throwing their body to the ground, the physician bowed shallowly until their forehead touched their fingers out of bursting respect. "Lady (Name) will be fine, considering your request was granted. Until Her Lady's fever subsides, I need to reexamine her."

[Sena's quarter]

Sena stopped sobbing an hour hysterically ago when her lifeless child was placed inside her arms, her eyes were blotch red and swollen, and her clothes were unkempt. Even if she wasn't loud now, her eyes still produced hot tears.

"Why did it have to be my son?" She asked no one in particular. Sena brought the child closer to her chest and caressed the backside of their head, swaddled up by a thick blanket.

The physician, who was Sena's doctor, stood by the side. They were waiting for her to give up the child to them when they were ready. Servants under Sena could feel their Mistress' sentiment of losing their child, not once, but twice. Two children who didn't experience the world yet were ripped away. They truly pity her.

°

"What's happening? Why can't I see them?" Someone cries out in suffering. "Are they okay? Please tell me!" They begged, but the person only let their head droop solemnly and shook their head.

That answer was enough for the person to be in more anguish than before. They tried violently fighting off the person holding them to keep them in place.

You slowly open your eyes and feel a throbbing pain behind them and hiss when the brightness of candlelight comes into your field vision for turning your head in that direction. You immediately close your sight and grit your jaws together and wait for the discomfort to subside.

"Yumi?" Weakly croaking out, you wait and see if there is anyone inside the room, but you are met with silence. Your throat felt parch and dry. Opening your bleary orbs, you finally notice how dark your room is, and daybreak is over. With a fragile left turn of your head, out through the open windows, the colors of numerous stars hung in the night sky with a few nimbus clouds adorning the vast space. Some stars were even hiding shyly behind it.

Flexing your body underneath the sheets, your whole body ache from the movements. The pain in your womb still lingers. However, it shouldn't be bad enough to cripple you in bed again. You thought you were passing through a nexus point of life and death. It was intolerable.

The door to your room opens, and Sukuna trails in; he sees you are awake. He was surprised. You went through a lot; he was expecting you to be still asleep, if not longer. "You're awake."

"Obviously." You were cranky on seeing Sukuna; it wasn't until he settled down sitting next to you, you caught a whiff of two different scents mixing into one, and you know it very well. "You smell of burning paper and incense sticks," pointing out, Sukuna grabbed the collar of his clothing and sniffed, and there were traces of it.

Readjusting his collar, Sukuna shrugged, "I was burning it for the child of Concubine Sena and me," shock ran across your face. "The child passed away in their sleep, peacefully." The words roll off his tongue like water; you can't believe he would say something so casually. Even his face says it all too.

"You should care more and stay until the funeral is over," you told him, annoyed that he would run over to you first. "It is your child."

"Do I have to care for every single one I've sowed?" He bites back. Sukuna does care, not in the way one would expect their father to. He manages for them through the mothers of his children; they do the rearing/ upbringing, and Sukuna does the providing by giving them pocket money. If he were to interact with his children, it would rather be very brief and barely acknowledged; he views them as nothing more than just extensions of him. Pieces that live for him and his causes.

Although you can't believe this is your first conversation waking up. His cruelty knows no bounds. "You could at least respect the life you brought into this world," your annoyance quickly turns to anger, "somehow, I'm glad to have never had your children if this is how you're going to treat them."

"Mind your words," Sukuna warns with a quick sheer. "You don't know what I went through for you." You raise a brow and give him a questioning gaze, but he wouldn't indulge you more. It's not like you expect him to. "You're being delirious upon waking up." Sukuna crosses his arms. "I would never treat the ones I have with you like that."

And that's the truth.

'He's so funny. Haha.' You sarcastically thought and rolled your eyes, but forgot there was still wavering pain and regret it as your face scrunched up. Arguing with him flew out of your mind.

It didn't evade the man's eyes, "Still hurt?" Sukuna didn't wait for your answer and grabbed the basin from above your head, which you didn't even notice. He dampens the cloth, "Close your eyes," he sets it above your lids. "I'll tell the kitchen staff to prepare your meal."

[funeral hall]

Sena burns paper and holds tightly onto her child's mitten in one hand. On the altar was their cremated ashes in a tightly sealed jar with their name labeled on the front. Sena didn't have time to mourn them for seven days; Sukuna had insisted the child be burned immediately (a day later) and sent the child's ashes to the family memorial ground in a tomb for placement.

It was just like the first child she had. Only she was mourning; she had never seen Sukuna weep for them. His face was stone cold like today. Yet, he had abandoned her for you. Sukuna should be here with her and grieving for the children they had lost together.

"How long have you been wanting him but still haven't got it? We both arrived and married Sukuna at the same time at the tender age of eighteen, and his eyes are always on me." Those words impulsively invade her mind, reminding her that her place is beneath you.

But there were whispering behind her from other Concubines, "Do you think it was a curse or fate? Lady (Name) and the child fell the same day yesterday."

"I don't think so; I mean, Lady (Name) has been working nonstop to welcome our mother-in-law's niece." They refuted, but Sena's mind couldn't let the grasp go. You and her child. Sena balled her fists ever tighter, evident anger painting her face as she forced herself to look ahead at the alter.

°

When it was time to retire for the night, after kneeling so long for the day, Sena made a beeline for your chambers. She rushes and pushes anyone who gets in her way. Sena grabs the slits of your screen doors and forces them open. They saunter inside like they own your place.

You, who were busy eating, looked up from your food bowl and set your spoon down. You made a gesture by pushing the food tray away, indicating you were done eating. Yumi, who gingerly took it with nimble hands, glanced at Sena and then looked back at you with a knowing look, 'Will you be alright?' A quick nod from you, and she exits.

"It is quite late, Concubine Sena; what brought you here?" Your lips form a Cheshire smile. Oh, how much Sena wants to rip that expression off your face. You were so vexatious. If a cat and fox were to have a child, the result would be you. You think you're so coy.

"It was because of you! You, that my child died!" She points the finger at you.

"Me? I am a sick person who happens to have frail health," you mock her, throwing the blanket off you; you stand up despite the ache of your muscles and joint. "Care to elaborate on how your child and I are correlated to this?" Taking steps closer to her, Sena didn't falter. "If you can't, then you're just a fool who tried to guilt me into feeling bad since you're incapable of preserving their life."

You then grab her by the throat; Sena didn't expect you to take action, "I won't take slanders from anyone, especially you, of all people. You had it coming; I suggest this is not foul play but fate." Your fingers dig into her vocal cords as Sena chokes. The person who was supposed to be angry is her, not you! She grabbed your wrist to loosen it, and it was impossible. For a sick person like you, you had such strengths.

"I am not slandering you; it's the truth! All my children died because of you!" She wheezes.

"You think you're so self-righteous for barging into my room? Think however you want; feed your delusional mind that I am the bad guy!" Your eyes burn with rage, "Go find someone who cares enough to punish me if you think I'm wrong." Sena's lavender eyes began to be misty, and she saw the conviction of you wanting to murder her right there and then. "Trust me, even if I were to kill you right here and then, it would be too kind of me."

You loosen your grip and toss her, and Sena stumbles back into her steps. She rubs a hand on her throat.

"Go and mourn your child." It wasn't a command or anything; it was a simple fact of 'get out.'

Sena glared at you and stormed out of your room with thunderous steps. Two angry people, but you were the one that was the most furious. It would help if you could calm your temper; pushing it would render you back to square one, lying in bed.

You pinch the nose of your bridge and massage it.

°

Another few days passed by, and you were recovering nicely; the chills in your body were gone, and the ache lessened. You heard that today Hanami's niece would be coming, and she would be the one welcoming her since you're left in bed too. While you wait for your physical examination to be over, Sukuna's looming presence in the room is stifling.

The physician made eye contact with Sukuna, and you were left wondering what's their relationship now. You remember how passive-aggressive the man is toward the doctor, and it's a surprise that the relationship is amicable where Sukuna wouldn't try tearing their head apart.

"Everything seems to be okay, you still have a slight fever, but the chilling is gone. Another day or two of bed rest should be fine." They explained, and before you could speak and ask for further details, the doors opened and trotted in Danzo, who came full speed at you.

They throw themselves into your lap, and everyone is surprised; Asuna, who tried to stop Danzo, pauses at your doorstep and sees Sukuna. She timidly greets Sukuna and then the doctor too. "I wanted to stop him, but he's too much for me to catch up," Asuna explained.

"Is child rearing that difficult?" Sukuna spoke up; aspersion bleeds through his voice. Asuna knows it was criticism against her, and she winced.

You notice how Asuna deflated by that remark. "Have one yourself." Throwing a quick wit at Sukuna, the man didn't flinch, "Besides, I adore Danzo." You settle a hand on top of the child's head and run your fingers through them, and Danzo, oblivious to the tension in the room, soaks up your affection. "Most children would run at the sight of me." You challenged Sukuna to go against you, "Having one that isn't afraid and do what their mother told them is refreshing."

Standing up for Asuna, she gathers how Sukuna quietens; her fear heightens that you would be next to be told off. Sukuna pursues his lips into a thin line; then, it turns into amusement. "Have what you want; I won't stop you if that makes you happy." Asuna then saw how fast the situation was diffused in a mere moment. She sincerely thought you would get hash but didn't; her heart calmed down.

Asuna noticed a particular fondness flickering around Sukuna's eyes that was never granted to any of them and the concubines. She heard about it all, how it was reserved for you, but was never one to witness until now. It was noted how easy he seemed to be in your presence and how he observed you and Danzo.

"Danzo, it would be wise if you don't stick too close, or you will get sick." The boy in your lap reluctantly pushes himself away and sits beside you like an obedient child. Asuna, whose child never really listened and would constantly rebel against her, did something he was told for once.

Sukuna heard your voice softening at the sight of the Danzo; it was quiet yet soothing. It was the tone he had never been able to listen to before besides your scorn and flippant attitude of indifference towards him. A peaking smile graces your lips when your fingers brush the boy's chubby cheeks to flick away a rice grain stuck to his face.

If you were this lovely to a child, what about your own when you have them? You would be perfect. He couldn't see why you would be redundant of remaining adamant about being child-free. He has healed your womb, after all. "I have a business to attend to; it seems like I can hear the carriage of my annoying cousin arriving in."

You didn't bid him farewell; your attention was on the child. You could still trace his back leaving without lifting your eyes from your peripheral view. Asuna sidesteps for Sukuna and the physician to go, and you usher the woman to come inside.

Once Sukuna was far enough from prying ears and eyes, he asked the doctor. "She well enough?"

"As well as she can be, her body is avail again now. Everything is flowing perfectly, no more coldness lingering, pulse running strong, and vitality too." The doctor confirms next to Sukuna.

°

"Hurry up!" The woman ushered the coach; she wanted to get out of to carriage since she hated being seated for so long. It was when the castle was in view, and the horses stop she flung the door open and rushed head-in first.

"Auntie!" She called out to Hanami, who graciously opened her arms and hugged her niece.

"How nice of you to visit me, my lovely niece; how is your travel so far?" Hanami inquires; her niece starts to bounce everywhere. She wasn't able to contain her excitement.

The young girl then goes into a barrel of animated talk, "It was beautiful, better than the barren, dry lands where I reside. Here it is so much more arable and fun." The next thing the woman wanted to say got her gushing, "Auntie~ I met a handsome man, their face is so pretty that I believe the Gods had taken their time to make them perfect. Can you please find them for me? I want to marry them by the time I go back home."

@sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samdric @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958 @shadowywizardarcade @huicitawrites @baji-keisukes-wife @choso-wifey @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @sanderaen @peonnnny @tiredlattes @waytomanyhusbands @whatamidoing89 @utena-akashiya @outrofenty @welcometodemonschoolfan @im-a-killer-queen @loverisa @bubera974 @sashaphantomhive @chaoticstrawberryland @onetwo123three @sxftiebee @bbrrose @gretel-gravain @slasherflickchick @floraroselaughter @kikis-art @21yumna @lifegosoana @sob4 @unknown-204 @dathoe @devilsbooksworld @guccirosegold

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #2

[masterlist] [part two] [part three] [part four]

Prompt found here

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

The thing about being the half-ghost protector of a small Midwestern city whose rogues gallery consists of both the inhabitants of a parallel dimension intrinsically linked to the "living" one as well as goons from the government, is that you tend to get a bit lonely. There's never any representation for him or others like him among the well known heroes of the world, he's really got no one to model how he should fight his city's crime. Sure, Superman has a lot of powers that are similar to his own, but he's a beloved alien not a hated eldritch entity. And sure, Danny loves knowing there's other sentient life out there, but when the government is one of his rogues, it's kinda hard to look up to government approved heroes.

Though Captain Marvel was pretty cool, not gonna lie.

But his point was, as far as Danny knew, he was the only eldritch being/cryptid to have taken up heroics, ever, and that… that hurts sometimes, that he was the only one out of a rather large cast of possible "other" beings in the world to decide that protecting others was worth more than his own potential safety. He was both the frontrunner and the sacrificial lamb. If he succeeded in changing the narrative, in convincing humanity that supernatural beings and entities couldn't be defined by a few really well known bad nuts, then others would publicly fly his banner, but if he didn't, if he failed, then, well, no ectoplasmic skin off their metaphorical noses, y'know? It was isolating.

Danny honestly expected the rest of his existence would be defined by that loneliness, by being the only hero to be of a supernatural flavor others were actively terrified of. Until, that is, Sam and Tucker nearly broke his bedroom door down one Sunday morning, breathless and beaming, which was so out of character for Sam that Danny was kinda expecting his ghost sense to go off signaling she was being overshadowed. But no, she wasn't. She was genuinely excited about something, enough to act like the daughter her parents wished she was, not the down-to-earth goth beauty they actually had.

"Woah, guys, what's up?" Danny asked, sitting up from his sprawled out position on his bed. Tuck shut and locked his door while Sam pulled her phone out and showed it to him. He stared at the screen in shock for a few minutes as his friends got their breathing under control. "Is… is that… is that what I think it is?"

Sam nodded, grinning like a loon. "Tuck double checked everything. There's multiple cases with enough correlation between them, buried deep enough in the web, that for it all to be one big hoax or just a huge coincidence would be functionally impossible. This is real, Danny. You're not alone anymore." On her phone was a website, which looked like a newspaper of some sort, with a headline reading, "The Cryptid Known as Batman Strikes Again! Twoface Back in Arkham!" It was posted just last week. Danny took Sam's phone and looked through the open tabs. There were articles and blog posts and Reddit pages and YouTube channels dedicated to what seemed to be a whole clan of cryptids who made Gotham City their home. All of them praised the elusive clan. Thanked them for protecting them. For saving them.

Danny started tearing up. He couldn't help it. Here was proof that what he was doing wasn't all for nothing. It was possible to be a hero loved by those he protected while being a member of the supernatural, part-time though his membership may be.

It was at that point that fourteen year old Danny "Phantom" Fenton decided the entity called "Batman" was his hero, his idol, the being he looked up to most of all. His method of fighting crime was a tad too violent for Danny, but his style was perfect. He couldn't change who or what he was, not without some serious side effects, but if "Batman" and their clan could turn the public's favor to their side despite being so obviously not human, something even literal aliens didn't attempt to do, then screw it, Danny was going to do the same thing. He would embrace his ghostliness as Phantom, instead of trying to pretend he was still human in that form. Maybe that was his problem, anyway? Could others tell he was pretending to still be human as Phantom? It didn't really matter at the moment, but it would be interesting to test that going forward…

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

In the end, a year and a half is all it took for everything to completely fall apart. Danny would say he was surprised, but honestly, he'd seen this coming as far back as that incident with Pariah Dark, which ended with him ascending the ghostly throne. The way Amity Park reacted to that whole ordeal was rather telling. Although a number of the younger crowd had started shifting their views of Phantom, too many of the adults still saw him as a threat and vilified him, even after he saved all of reality.

Living in Amity Park had quickly become too dangerous for him and his team—Sam, Tucker, and Jazz—, but while Jazz was fairly easily able to get custody of Danny and get the two of them away from the boiling cauldron of tension, Sam and Tucker didn't have that option. His core protested leaving members of his fright behind in such a hazardous situation, but with no idea how things would go down where Jazz and Danny were running to, they had to leave them for the time being. If everything went to plan, then Jazz would call the rest of their fright to them.

Thankfully, with him being the ghost king now, his ghostly rogues had cut back on their attacks on his haunt during the past year, instead scheduling time with Jazz to teach him more about ghost culture, as well as other supernatural beings and their cultures. Due to these lessons, Danny, Sam, and Tucker would often debate what kind of beings Batman's clan had and how many beings the clan contained instead of finishing their homework.

Batman was obviously an entity loosely tied to shadows that had ascended to minor divinity over the past few years, while Robin had to be some sort of fey being, considering their eternally youthful appearance. This theory was backed by Robin's ability to mimic the voices of seemingly anyone. Raven, the next oldest member of Batman's clan, had to be eldritch in origin, though it was interesting that they claimed a name so closely related to death and prophecy. Danny and his friends couldn't quite agree on what kind of eldritch being Raven was, just that they were one.

Condor was an interesting being to debate, as the name also had strong ties with death, as well as rebirth. Sam thought that meant Condor was a Phoenix that wanted to stay on theme with the rest of the clan, while Tuck thought Condor was some kind of zombie. Jazz was actually the one to propose Condor may have been a lich, which honestly kind of made sense. Condor was known to have looser morals than the others in the clan, which fit with the general idea of how liches come into being, especially if those they killed came back as undead servants like some rumors claimed.

Around the same time Condor showed up, whisperings of a being named Oracle started showing up within the forums Tuck had hacked. While there was no confirmed record of appearance for her, there were multiple accounts of the other members of the bat clan sending words of thanks to her, so she might have been the actual spirit of the Oracle of Delphi, which would be so cool.

Ibis was definitely some sort of trickster spirit, possibly even a kitsune. With their tendency to dance around an opponent until victory was assured and their tenuous grasp on the humanoid form, they couldn't really be anything else. Black Bat had to be another entity loosely tied to shadows, though they seemed more eldritch than Batman was. Starling could literally only be a banshee, what with her death shrieks every time she attacked. Weirdly enough, Signal seemed to already have a supernatural theory attached to them, said theory being that they were the bat signal given sentience and humanoid form, though Danny thought they might be more of a vengeful spirit.

There were likely others, those not as well known or even ever seen. There always were. For Danny's fright, that was Ellie, who was constantly on the move, especially now that she'd mastered teleportation and portal making. While most of his former ghostly rogues knew of Ellie, the only humans that knew of her were members of his fright and Valerie.

At the time, spitballing ideas about the members of the bat clan in Gotham was just all fun and games, a way to practice the knowledge they were learning in a more practical and entertaining way than just bookwork. Now, though, Danny couldn't be more grateful they had spent so much time on those debates, countless nights they stayed up late trawling through the deep web to stay up to date on the latest on Gotham's guardian deity and his clan. Because they had such solid guesses on what beings made up the bat clan, they'd be able to appeal for sanctuary in a more appropriate manner than if they had no clue at all.

As his and Jazz's bus drew closer to Gotham on the horizon, Danny anxiously checked that the duffle with their offerings was still secured. He hoped the bats liked their gifts; they had barely any concrete info on any of the more public members, let alone the lesser known ones. He wasn't sure what they'd do if Batman refused their appeal; with the schematics to rebuild the Fenton portal within easy access of the GIW, they couldn't risk hiding out in the Infinite Realms for fear of drawing Danny's subjects into a fruitless war.

Please, he prayed to Gotham's guardian deity, please don't turn us away. You're our last hope.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

As Bruce was getting ready for patrol that night, he felt the creeping rise of anticipation. Something was going to happen tonight, something extraordinary. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be a good thing or not. Like usual.

For the past year and a half, Bruce had noticed an odd trend. Whenever something big was going to happen, something that would affect the entirety of his city, he'd feel antsy all day, right up until whatever was going to happen happened. It certainly helped cut down on the number of times they'd been caught with their metaphorical pants around their knees, but not being able to tell if the nebulous something was going to be good or not was annoying. Though, to be fair, there weren't a lot of good things that had happened since he started noticing his new sense.

"Listen up," he sighed as he stalked over to the conference table in the cave. "Something's going to happen tonight, something big. As usual, that's all the information I have, so you know the drill; if you see anything unusual, call it in." Bruce looked over his brood of children, most of them adults in their own right by now. Goodness, the years have flown by fast. "Try to stick relatively close to each other tonight, please. I want to be able to watch each other's backs in case whatever it is manages to get the drop on us."

Dick nodded with a grin. "You got it, B," he said, slinging an arm over Damian's shoulder. "C'mon, baby bird, let's run through our stretches one last time before heading out, yeah?"

"Tt, it is Todd who needs those stretches most, was he not the one to strain his knee last week?"

"You listen here, you little—"

"He's not wrong, Jay. You sure you don't want my stretch routine? It'd do you wonders, y'know."

"You mean your torture routine, Replacement? How you can get your body into some of those shapes and still call it stretching, I'll never know—"

Bruce shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. He wasn't quite sure when that change had happened, but he'd be forever grateful it had. It pained him when his sons fought each other.

A small hand came to rest on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. He glanced down at his daughter and smiled at her look of concern. "I'm alright," he reassured her, "just thinking."

Cass looked at him thoughtfully before nodding. "It will be alright. Tonight will be good. We will stay safe. You stay safe, too?"

Bruce was nodding before she finished speaking. "Of course. We should head out, any longer and Stephanie will try banshee striking the first shady person she sees," he said, an amused glint in his eye as Steph cried out in indignation from over by the batmobile.

An hour into patrol, and Bruce's anticipation skyrocketed. Whatever was happening tonight was happening soon. "Everyone, check-in."

"Raven here, checking in, all clear here." Dick.

"This is Condor, everything's normal on my end." Jason.

"Robin, checking in, nothing is out of place." Damian.

"Starling here! Just some run-of-the-mill muggers, currently crying for daddy!" Steph.

"Black Bat. Clear." Cass.

Where's—? "Ibis here. B, I think I found the source of your feeling. Sending Oracle my coordinates now." Tim.

"Understood. En route now. Do not engage without backup, understood?" Bruce demanded, taking off toward the beacon indicating Tim's location.

"I'll try, B, but I get the impression they know I'm here."

The anticipation rose again. Whoever Tim was watching definitely knew he was there. "We'll hurry."

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Tim clung to the gargoyle overlooking one of the many rooftop shrines to the Bats and the Birds. There, sitting cross-legged about a foot in the air next to the shrine, was a glowing teenaged boy with snow bright hair and Lazarus Pit green eyes. He was wearing a black and silver armored suit, similar to the suits he and his siblings wore, with a flowing cape that blended into the night hung from his shoulders and a greenish black crown floating just above his head. In his lap was a black, gray, and green duffle bag that looked to be rather full, and in his hand was a beat up looking photograph. He couldn't make out what it was a photo of from this angle, but he'd recognize a well-loved photograph anywhere.

"In position, IIbis, you may initiate contact." Bruce said over comms. Tim didn't bother acknowledging he heard and instead carefully unwound himself from his hiding place in the shadows. Carefully, he danced down the side of the building he was on, contorting himself into inhuman looking positions as he went, until he could silently drop onto the roof with the shrine. He slowly slunk forward, keeping low and accentuating his curiosity. That was the key, here, he really was curious about this kid. That was what sold IIbis as something other, something not human.

Tim was about five feet from the shrine when wide, glowing green eyes suddenly found his own, covered though they might be. Tim froze, holding the slightly exaggerated pose he'd found himself in, crouched and arched in a way that screamed wary curiosity. Cautiously, he rolled his head to the side and chirped slightly.

"You really do exist," the kid breathed in awe before he shook himself and straightened, grabbing the duffle from his lap before letting his feet meet the rooftop. "Hi, um, I was wondering if I could possibly meet with your clan leader, Batman?"

Tim stared at the kid for a long moment as Bruce silently made his way to the shadows of the shrine. At Bruce's signal, a soft tap on the comm, Tim shifted and rolled and contorted until he was standing in a much more human-like fashion, then purposefully turned only his head to look directly where Bruce's beacon said he was. The kid whipped his head around right as Bruce seemingly melted out of the shadows, his size and sheer presence seemingly dwarfing the kid, who sucked in a surprised breath but barely moved an inch. Impressive.

"Yes?" Bruce growled softly, not the unpleasant, gravelly growl reserved for criminals, but the warm, gentle rumble reserved for kids and victims.

The kid's awe only grew more pronounced, but somehow he still managed to pull himself together enough to speak. "H-hi, my name's Phantom, I'm not sure if you've heard of me or not. I'd like to ask for sanctuary for myself and my fright-mates. Our previous haunt has become rather hostile towards us, and I'm not strong enough to keep them safe. Um, I've got some gifts for you and your clan, I wasn't sure how large your clan was, so I'm sorry if I offend you or anything with the lack of gifts for everyone. M-may I pull them out?" He asked, lifting the duffle slightly to indicate what he meant.

Bruce was silent as he waited for the rest of the bats and birds to form a loose circle around Phantom, stances mostly non-threatening, and stepped forward into the glow coming from the kid. At this point, the kid's awe was nearly palpable, glancing at as many of them as he could but always facing Bruce and not moving more than his eyes.

After a further moment, Bruce tilted his head slightly and nodded, causing the kid to outright beam.

"Right! Well, first, for yourself, I have a set of ghost steel batarangs, enchanted to return to their case once they leave a hundred yard radius. They're tied specifically to the case, so you can lend them to someone else, but it's recommended you be the only one to use them for the first ten uses in live combat. Next, for Black Bat, a cloak made by the best undead tailors this side of eternity. Made from the shadows themselves, whoever wears it becomes functionally invisible in low light conditions and beyond. I was also told it grants slight shadow manipulation, as well. For Robin, a shape shifting sword from the fey realms themselves, fitting for a changeling child. All curses and tricks were totally removed, as we weren't certain you wouldn't share it with some of your clan mates, and we didn't want to accidently cause any problems that could have been averted—" Phantom kept going, pulling something from the bag, naming who it was for, and explaining a little about it, before putting it back in the bag and moving on. But what drew Tim's attention, time and time again, was the fact that Phantom seemed to be under the impression they were actually members of the supernatural—he all but called Tim a kitsune, and definitely implied Damian was a changeling! It was both amusing the kid honestly thought they were members of the supernatural, and rather concerning at the same time. They were all human, weren't they? They were method acting every time they suited up, heck, Tim was nothing more than a self trained contortionist that could mimic a few bird calls and knew a bit of self defense. Why did this kid, who was possibly an actual ghost, think they were supernaturally inclined? Were they really that good at method acting? Or was there something more to it than that?

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Hey, guys! I literally stayed up working on this until midnight, so already in pushing my self proclaimed boundaries (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I had so much help from my friends on the @batpham-discord-highlights discord server, I'll look into tagging everyone that helped in the morning when I'm not struggling to stay awake (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I hope you enjoyed this long fic, guys, cuz I was NOT expecting to write 3,266 words today! Good night, good morning, good day!

[magnoliasandarson]

hoax

Tim was doing his absolute damnedest to project calmness, but he was losing his mind. Two feet away, munching on some cheesy fries, was the Red Hood—the prodigal son, the dead golden boy, his childhood hero, his Robin. The insane man who once beat him half to death, now the guy who occasionally dropped by the cave with a frankly worrying number of bullet holes. 

He’d been patrolling for an hour or so when he noticed the lack of gunshots, screams, explosions, etc., and tracked Hood to the gargoyle Dick took him to once when he was feeling sentimental. It was strange finding him without his signature explosive bucket on, with a bag of Batburger in his lap.

Tim didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something. Jason apologized for his actions weeks ago and explained that the pit had taken no dead Robins and turned it into all Robins must die, but there was still a weight between them. A clear line that said do not cross; luckily enough, Tim lived to cross those lines, “Takin’ a day off from murder and mayhem?”

Jason twisted his head to look over, his scowl somehow threatening, even with a fry hanging out of his mouth. He finished chewing, looking menacing the whole time, “Fucks it to ya, bird boy?”

Tim plopped down on the ledge; if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve already. He stared out at Gotham, at the empty streets and windows glowing with warmth and light. For once, the city was quiet, “Just making conversation, Hood.”

“What made you think I wanted to talk?” Jason’s tone was harsh, but it was about a five on the Jason-rage-meter, and Tim didn’t get fidgety till a seven. 

Tim kicked his feet out, idly drumming his fingers on the cement ledge, “Maybe I wanted to talk.” And in a weird way, it was true. This was Jason freakin’ Todd; the boy wonder that made Batman laugh. He oddly wanted to know everything. 

Jason sighed like he was accosted by young, costumed teens all the time, and, to be fair, he was. Stephanie had taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours with waffles, and she had only been shot at twice, “Fine, traffic light. Whatcha wanna talk about.”

“Y’know, you wore the suit, too. ‘Least mine has pants.” Tim spoke, then immediately hunched away. Robin was a sore spot for Jason- Tim was stupid to bring it up. 

For some reason, Jason didn’t immediately pull a gun; he just cocked his head and laughed quietly. Tim straightened back up and tried to muster up a glare, but that just made Jason’s little laughs louder, “Ooh- baby bird’s got jokes,” he rolled his shoulders and offered a thing of fries from the bag, “want some fries, Tiny?”

Tim groaned; why did everyone make short jokes about him? He snatched the fries sharply in protest, “You were short too-”

“Yeah, then I took a dip in poison snot,” Jason cut him off, “Ya wanna do that too, short stack?”

Tim immediately jammed some fries in his mouth- he was incurably dumb. He’d managed to bring up Robin and the Lazarus Pit with Jason. He should hang up the cape, “You got any advice? As a former short king?” Honestly, he wished Jason would just shoot him now. There was something wrong with his brain on a fundamental level. He’d been hanging out with Bart and Kon way too much.

Jason tilted his head like he was buffering and inhaled deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm himself through sheer force of will, “Whatcha wanna know?”

Tim chewed his mouthful of potato slowly; he hadn’t thought this far ahead. What did he want to know from Jason? He could ask about crime-lording, but Jason would probably snitch to Dick, and then Bruce would lecture him for at least an hour. Oddly enough, there was only one safe topic he could ask about, and it would still likely result in him leaving with lead in his body that was not there before, “You got any, uhm, Robin-ly advice?” Lightning should strike him down.

Jason didn’t kill him, which was a plus; just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, which was objectively hilarious, but Tim would die if he laughed, so he just ate another fry, “Robin was a different kid,” he blew out smoke rings like the cool guys in movies, and if Tim wasn’t acutely afraid of lung cancer, he’d be tempted to try, “Dickwing use’ta say, “Robin is magic, you have to be brave for the magic to work.” I used to believe that shit.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Another cool ring of cigarette smoke floated out through the sky, “I stopped believin’ when I dug my way outta my grave.”

Noted. Tim cleared his throat; this was not a conversation he was equipped for, “Oh.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah- oh,” he took another deep drag of his cigarette, making Tim’s chest twinge, “The thing is- Robin will make you believe you can be- make you think you can be a better person.”

“Then why aren’t you better?” The words left his mouth without Tim’s consent, and his whole body tensed to jump, his fingers finding his grapple gun at his waist. 

Jason gave a wry smile and stubbed his spent cigarette on the gargoyle to his right, “Because Robin isn’t magic.”