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#like hes a Bat but he has the freedom of not being a son

obsessedwithceleste · 1 day

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Mattheo Riddle Headcannons

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Being the son of the Dark Lord is no easy task. Obviously.

Growing up, Mattheo had very limited contact with other people, which stunts his social skills a lot, especially with his peers

Once he breaks out and has the ability to meet other people, he's 100% an extrovert because he feels like he has to make up for everything that he missed out on

Growing up alone though made him very independent and self sufficient

Lots of trust issues, lots of abandonment issues

But he's also very bad at picking up on social cues, and reading other people's emotions

He grew up being outwardly judged by everyone around him, which caused him to develop a sort of apathetic attitude as a buffer

This gives him a sense of freedom because if he doesn't care about other's opinions, he can do whatever he wants, they'll judge him either way, so why not do what makes him happy

Mattheo also has a deep internal rage

Like, level 11 out of 10 on the scale of anger issues

He bottles up all his emotions and frustration with the world, often lashing out and exploding at the smallest triggers

His frustration mostly stems from the fact that it's not fair that he's suffering for the actions of his father. Because at the end of the day, he's still innocent in all of it

This is also why he's particularly spiteful and disdainful of authoritarian figures

He simply doesn't owe them anything

At Hogwarts it's hard for him at first. It's pretty clear that he didn't have much of a childhood and that he was forced to grow up much too fast

And once again, he finds himself being judged by everyone, so nothing new

His biggest pet peeve is when someone complains about a minor "tragedy" from their childhood, because he's absolutely certain that he had it worse

Lowkey victim complex™️

He's able to eventually bond closely with Theodore Nott, sharing a lot of similar childhood trauma (we <3 trauma bonding) and surprisingly Lorenzo Berkshire who shares his fuck-all mentality

Many assume that he's a malicious bully, based solely on his last name, but he's really more of a chaos instigator

He rebels against authority and stands up for what he might find to be an injustice, but he'd never go after someone without cause

Hogwarts is one of the first places he's able to truly act his age

He joins the Slytherin quidditch team,

He's a beater (which is kind of therapeutic as it allows him to let out a lot of his anger)

Often skives off of class,

He's not book smart like Theo, but makes up for it with street smarts

And likes to pull Theo into the fray simply because he can

This is also how he gets his reputation for frequently sleeping around to put it nicely

Mattheo grew up with a distinct lack of affection from those around him which causes him to search out any hint of it that he can find

He doesn't really use girls per se, he just doesn't quite understand the concept of love

But when Mattheo falls, he falls hard

The first time he catches feelings, he's absolutely terrified that he's under the influence of a love potion

Very confused, very upset, and denies it to the ends of the Earth

But once he comes around, he's all in

He doesn't like to think of himself as jealous, just territorial.

Jealousy is when something isn't yours and you want it. But you belong to him, and he'll be damned if he doesn't defend his territory

He also isn't shy at all when it comes to PDA, simply because he wants everyone to know what's his

Definitely love bombs, but he doesn't know what that means

Won't bat an eye before hexing someone for looking at you too long (will act innocent and pretend it wasn't him)

Honestly probably would not be the best partner initially because he's so used to being independent

And would likely try to hide a lot of his anger and emotions from you because his biggest fear would be being judged by someone he loves

It would take a lot of time and effort to work through, but Mattheo would be willing to put in the work because he's determined to have the one thing his father never could

#slytherin boys #slytherin #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle headcanons #harry potter universe #my boy desperately needs therapy

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redrobin-detective · 1 year

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Duke Reminder for when you get back from your run or whatever you’re doing (probably actually running but idk 🤷‍♂️)

Im sorry friend this is so late, it got buried in my ask and I forgot.

I've obviously lost most of the energy of the rant but I'll sum it up with: Duke's origin with the We Are Robin (WAR) movement marked DC doing something different with the Robin title. These weren't specially picked Chosen Ones. These are kids of Gotham trying to take back the city, being inspired by the heroes to do what they can to spread their own light in the darkness.

Duke being a leader of that movement, having met Batman early on (Zero Year) and making his own way apart of but still adjacent to the Batfam. In my mind, Duke would be like cousin Kate, in that he's absolutely a Bat, but he's not like beholden to Bruce and he kinda does his own thing. The idea of the WAR being almost like Baker Street Irregulars, like street level heroes to do good and if it gets too big, you call in the OG Bats. This is the perfect space for characters like Harper/Cullen Row, Maps Mizoguchi etc to fit in. They could have their own separate stories that occasionally link up with the Bats.

Duke is serving as a leader/Oracle like figure watching out for and organizing the Robins. When Bruce realizes he can't stop Duke or the others, he ropes Duke in and gives him equipment, training and generally helps the kids. Because Bruce is looking to the future, the future he won't always be able to save but if he can save these kids and empower them... then they can save themselves and Gotham. So Duke is a Bat, no questions. Its a joke amongst the WAR that Duke knows the Bats personally, sees them outside of costume. He and Jason vibe really well and Dami respects him for the good hard work he's doing.

Idk, I like Duke as a character but I will admit it eats at me that this kind of exciting, bold, progressive new character was kind of tosses aside for the same old 'nice kid, dead/unavailable parents, becomes Bruce's ward, slap him in a costume and fight crime'. It doesn't matter that oh! He's dayshift or Oh! He has powers!!! It's still the same formula. I love making jokes about Bruce's revolving door of kids but at some point it's gotta stop. Duke being his own dude, alongside the Bats making real change in Gotham. God that would have been So interesting guys and I'll forever be upset about it.

#like the we are robin stories are themselves bad #but the concept guys #do you KNOW how weepy eyed I got at the idea of gotham kids looking up to Robin and saying 'that could be me?'#and not waiting for Batman to magic them away and Choose them #they ARE Robin #even if theyre only Robin for a block of Gotham #they're filling in the cracks the big guns miss #and form a cohesive network of kids who are sick of the city failing them #Duke being charming charismatic bold and decisive as a leader #like hes a Bat but he has the freedom of not being a son #Bruce tells him No at something and Duke is like whatever #He has his own people! his own responsibility! Bruce and co are just there as support and backup!#Im sorry thats one reason I cant get into canon Duke #because they stripped him of his parents and his home built community #and threw him at bruce as a sad orphan who Chose him and made him a hero #its just............ its just the same thing #and sometimes god bless I want something different

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taking-thyme · 6 months

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🌅 Lucifer Deity Guide 🌅

Note: This is inspired by both my own experiences with Lucifer and the information I read on @scarletarosa's blog and her devotional guide to him. Please go read that one too!!

The divine rebel, Lucifer is the light of truth and divine wisdom; an ancient light which shines through the darkness, representing illumination. He is the driving force of innovation, liberation and transformation. According to Scarletarosa, who actively works with Lucifer and was told this by him, he was the first-born god of the Universe created by the supreme deity, the Source. He is so incredibly ancient and beautiful. Lilith was created to be his counterpart, the Queen of Heaven. However, Jehovah took the throne of heaven from Lucifer and cast him and his followers into hell. Most of them lost their connection to heaven and their energy became dark and intense. Jehovah claimed the throne of heaven and set himself up as the one true god, manipulating humans into betraying their original deities. Thus, Lucifer became the King of Hell and has been scorned by Christians for millenia.

God of: Illumination, Light, Darkness, Change, Rebirth, Challenges, Innovation, Logic, Truth, Knowledge, Wisdom, Strategy, Persuasion, Revolution, Luxury, Pleasure, Freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, Violins and Fiddles (instruments traditionally associated with him)

Plants and Trees: Rose, Belladonna, Mulberry, Patchouli, Myrrh, Min, Tobacco, Marigold, Lilies, Hyacinth, Sage

Crystals: Amethyst, Black Obsidian, Onyx, Garnet, Selenite, Rose Quartz

Animals: Black Animals in general, Dragons, Snakes, Owls, Eagles, Ravens, Crows, Rams, Foxes, Pigs, Bats, Rats, Moths, Swans

Incense: Rose, Frankincense, Patchouli, Myrrh

Colors: Black, Red, Silver, Emerald Green, Gold

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: The Morning Star, Venus

Day: Monday and Friday

Consort: Lilith

Children: Naema, Aetherea and many others

How was he traditionally worshipped?

There is not much to say about how Lucifer was historically worshiped seeing as he wasn’t worshiped at all for a large chunk of human history. He seems to have been worked with in some capacity according to the Gesta Treverorum, written in 1231, which is where we first see the term Luciferian being used to refer to his worship. This was by a woman named Lucardis for a religious circle, who was said to lament to Lucifer in private and prayed to him. However, the term Luciferians was later applied to basically any groups Christians didn’t like and wanted to fight, as one might expect. However, the modern Luciferian movement also sheds light on how Lucifer is worshiped. For Luciferians, enlightenment is the ultimate goal. Their basic principles highlight truth, freedom of will and fulfilling one’s ultimate potential, and encourage the same in all of us. Traditional dogma is shunned because Luciferians believe that humans do not need deities or the threat of eternal punishment to know what is good and the right thing to do. All ideas are to be tested before being accepted, and even then one should remain critical because knowledge is fluid and ever-changing. Regardless of whether Luciferians view Lucifer as a deity or an archetype, he is a representation of ultimate illumination and exploration in the name of personal growth.

Epithets

Phanes

The Morning Star

Light-bringer

The First-born

Prince of Darkness

Son of Morning

The Glory of Morning

Lord of the Lunar Sphere

The First Light

Offerings

Red Wine, Whiskey (especially Jack Daniels), Champagne, Pomegranate Juice, Black Tea (especially earl grey), Chocolate (especially dark chocolate), Cooked Goat Meat, Venison, Apples, Pomegranates, Honey, Good Quality Cigars, Tobacco, Daggers and Swords, Silver Rings, Emeralds and Emerald Jewelry, Goat Horns, Black Feathers, Seductive Colognes, Red Roses, Dead Roses, Crow Skulls, Bone Dice, Devotional Poetry and Artwork, Classical Music (especially violin)

Devotional Acts

Acts of self-improvement, spiritual awakening and evolution, knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality ; Shadow Work ; Working to overcome your ego to become wiser ; Defending those in need ; Working to better yourself without being too self critical ; Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it

Altar Decorations

Black or Red Candles, Snake and Dragon Figurines, His sigil, Roses, Fancy Chess Boards and Playing Cards, Silver Jewlery and ornaments, Black feathers, Goat horns

Appearance

For me Lucifer usually appears as a tall light-skinned man with long fiery red hair (so red it looks like it’s been dyed), a sophisticated face with a killer jawline, passionate eyes and dressed in a fancy black suit. From all my experiences with him and what I’ve heard from other followers, it seems Lucifer and most demons dress in full suits and tuxedos.

Personality

Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant. Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it.

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

^ The Sigil of Lucifer

#deity work #witchblr #witch tips #spirit work #lucifer deity #lucifer devotee #luciferian #luciferian witch #lucifer morningstar

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpdc crossover #dpdc au #dp dc #dp dc crossover #clone^2 #danny fenton is a clone #danny fenton is not the ghost king #sorry this got so long and i barely even got into them falling in love with one another #satoshy you should totally reblog this so we can talk about this more i'd love to bounce ideas with you or anyone else about it 👀#this is so funny to me personally because like. im imagining nasra doesnt show up unti danny's like at least 18-19 #which is a wild set of 3 years for danny because he finds out he's a clone when he's 15 #acquires Damian at 16 and then meets nasra at 18 #like he got one grace period where it was just him and his new little brother and then BAm another clone #damian showed up by accident but i promise you nasra was specifically clockwork's doing because its hilarious to me personally #CW loves danny but also he's a little shit. i was originally gonna call Nasra's vigilante name 'revenant' but thought it was too basic #also danny not meeting bruce until he's almost 20 is very funny to me. especially since baby dames was with the league for 6 years #beforehand #like what do you mean my clone has been living unnoticed for 18 years. he's had damian for HOW LONG? THREE YEARS?#morally gray danny has my heart ever since my post where he murdered three guys for nearly killing his brother.#nasra attacks danny and yay! he doesn't hurt his hands this time around! he's grown since he met damian. that was also a large part why dee #didn't like nasra right off the bat. she could've hurt him and made his hands even worse.

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mikareo · 5 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.

contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes.

Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure.

It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.

Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents.

The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan.

An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid.

But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.

It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by.

Tick.

The time is now.

As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century.

“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.

The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.”

At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons.

“Your majesty,” you bow your head.

As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.

While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away.

This is pointless.

Why is he being forced to be here?

It’s not like you're his bride.

Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin.

Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.

So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.

It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.

You aren’t really his type.

“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”

Typical Sae.

Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.

“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”

With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different.

“So the rumors are true then?”

You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother.

“Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.

A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart.

Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.

“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words.

“What is it that you make me out to be?”

There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume.

…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.

Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise.

This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.

“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit.

Sae would never say those things.

The people would never say those things.

Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.

As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?

In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.

“Are these your words?” he interrogates.

One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”

“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks.

“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”

So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.

And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.

Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks.

Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.

He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.

With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence.

Oh how he cannot stand you.

You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.

He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living.

“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”

Oh no…

“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”

Please, just shut up.

“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”

He hates that damn sound.

There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.

“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”

“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”

“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”

A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent.

“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”

You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people.

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.

“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”

“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”

“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”

“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”

The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you.

He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami.

Rin knows he’s frightening…

…and he’s enjoying it.

“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.”

He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”

“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”

On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.

Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face.

Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.

The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.

Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.

As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep.

You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.

A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child.

“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”

“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”

A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”

The castle staff?

He’s to stand with lowly servants?

Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father.

“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”

There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.

“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”

This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.

“You are a disgrace.”

His father tells him these things often.

“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”

That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.

With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.

So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…

…when he, himself, has no significance at all?

His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.

The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.

A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself.

A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.

A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.

“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”

Why are you looking at him like that?

The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all.

The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.

“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.

“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement.

“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”

While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.

“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?

“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?

“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?

A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”

“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now.

“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”

You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”

Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels.

“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”

Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”

You’re apologizing?

“I don’t regret anything, though.”

That makes more sense.

Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”

You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”

Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.

He should thank the man in the moon.

Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”

“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”

“...right there.”

One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful.

For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…

…if only you were his…

…but you aren’t.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

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gumballavocadoharry · 7 months

Text

A white house with a picket fence:

*MerylStone is a made up town in Vermont, Woodstock*

The sky skirted itself on the horizon of nightfall, emitting glints of stars; beaming like mood lights wrapped around the headboard of a teenage bedroom. Even the mellowness of nature, couldn't halt the clamorous roars of the incessant debate over your son, Lincoln's curfew. "Lincoln, for the last time! You're only 18 years old! You don't need a midnight curfew." Harry shouted from across the couch. Lincoln huffed and stormed to his bedroom without saying another declaration. Harry plopped down, hands smacking into his face, his breath huffy and shaky.

The faded ghosts of your husband's slipper marks bored a loud tense firmament throughout the living room.

"Why do kids think once they're 18, they're adults?" He sighed, "Don't they know how hard it is out there?" You swallowed gasps of breaths that you always held inside like gas in a balloon during tense engagements; something that you've learned in your youth. You squished next to Harry on the couch; almost on cue, started rubbing his shoulders and back. "He'll come around honey....it just takes time."

"Yeah, well too much," A gulp escaped Harry's throat, "What's out there that we can't give here? I mean....we gave him so much freedom...what is it that he wants?" Even you had to shrug to that. "I don't know. Maybe he sees his friends with their own apartments, going to college, being away from their parents and...." You stopped yourself. "What, you think he's tired of us?" Harry's voice sprung more hostility than he wanted. "I think he just needs some space." A correction to your first thought is what Harry wanted to hear in this moment.

You didn't want the thought to echo in your head for too long; Lincoln has his own job, money, he just saved up and bought a car and not to mention the legal status of his age had given him a birthright advantage.

It petrified you and you knew it did Harry as well; just the inkling of Lincoln's moving away from home, your only child stuck something unpleasant in you. All the time, energy, emotion and love that you invested into your best investment would now crave something more than the walls of his juvenile home; something better, better relationships, ones he would devote endless time to. Not even batting an eyelash to his parents, but to the friends who could only show him desire vs the worldly wisdom from his parents. The realization was gut wrenching in itself but the duplicitous fantasy that this was all stemmed for parental love ate away at the truth.

You knew deep down, what haunted your thoughts, what made your blood run cold was the idea of Lincoln forgetting you and Harry; other relationships would cloud his mind, leaving nothing but hollow postcards of updates from his life. Picturing the unruffled but customarily greeting written in black cursive ink, with only a memo of his life so far with a picture flipped to the back of an older version of your son, black sweater, coffee cup, kids curling on his lap, wife positioned only slightly above his shoulders, would highlight a missing piece of his life; once forgotten and discarded like old news clippings with no purpose.

Little did you know, Lincoln had been listening to the conversation you were having with Harry. The boy's blood boiled, mind caviling at the thought of being chained here the rest of his life. Like a house arrest without an official seal of proof. Chafing at the lack of support for his own liberty, but aiding to their own selfish whims gritted Lincoln's teeth. Years of protesting to this very moment, to these years....were finally coming to an end. Tonight, Lincoln would self free from his sentence and he would finally grapple things differently. His foot moved patiently across the hallway, like he was in no hurry to challenge his stone locked mind. He had a car, money and the night to guide him through this plan.

Sitting at his desk was the first things his eyes scanned to. The desk lamp illuminated the circling dust particles that would land invisibly onto the grainy dark maple desk top. Lincoln's eyes stood for a long time at the the second drawer; neighboured bellow the first tall skinny one. It carried his notebooks, packs of pencils and unopened highlighters, varying in every color of yellow, pink, blue, green, orange and purple. He took shy steps towards his chair, carefully pulling on the fringes of it and sitting down in it, adjusting himself to a comfortable writing stature. Lincoln's fingers gripped around a pen, snagging a notebook from a drawer and inched only a few centimeters away from the page. Holding the pen in his thumb and pointer strictly, he wrote out a small introduction.

The sound of his heart beating echoed like a drum throughout the bedroom. Ballpoint making its way across the paper, scattering out years worth of pent up angst. The sudden open of Lincoln's bedroom door reflexed him to crumbling up the paper and shoving it into bin under his desk. An easy investment against walking across the room or slingshotting a paper only to miss and have to pick it up in the first place. "Lincoln.." Harry stuttered on his words, "It's time for bed." His voice, guttural and his eyes scanning the dark room for anything that could spark an argument. But nothing: the bed was made perfectly, the floors were spotless, desk was clear and so was Lincoln's face; calm, relaxed and deadpan. Lincoln gave a simple nod, settling himself up from the desk and walking out in the middle of his bedroom.

He waited till the door closed and Harry's footsteps grew father and father away. Lincoln grabbed his robe, pulling the strings and using it as a clasp for the door by tying one end to the leg of the desk and the other to the doorknob. He tore another piece of paper from his most used orange notebook. It was a study one he had picked out himself, wanting to make the most of its use for his notes on binary and coding. The ballpoint of the pen positioned itself onto the paper before writing a carefully crafted goodbye. The once diluted blossom sky mixed in a orange powder now was a somber cloak of dark maroon blue. Looking out the window were only half appearing house silhouettes and the faded glow of the end corner streetlights. Something Lincoln would rely on once it came to moving fastly out of the driveway.

Sealing the letter on the desk, lying lifelessly, Lincoln now turned his attention to his closet. Grabbing his duffel bag and shoving shirt after shirt, jeans after joggers, sneakers after loafers and even the small accessories; watches, wristbands and rings were all sealed into sandwich bags. The closet was empty. Only a few hangers swayed silently in the shadow on a vacant little rack that held dress shirts, t-shirts with crazy designs of cats and lightning bolts and pants of all types shoved into the little drawers above.

Next, the hidden piggy bank. It was really a jewelry box his mother gifted him as a purpose of hiding all his action figures. But now filled in it was hundreds of dollars. Maybe even more than that. Lincoln didn't hesitate to shove the rolls of hundreds into little sandwich bags and stuffing his wallet with 500 dollars, sliding it in perfectly as if the wallet had carved out spaces for the thick stacks of paper to be slickly slid in without hesitation. The dust particles zig zagged around as the body of Lincoln was all over his bedroom, gathering every possible and necessary thing to show with him on his journey. His backpack, filled with textbooks and his notebooks from his desk.

The desk lamp, nick nacks, scissors, pencils, pens, markers, whiteout....everything that had a resemblance to Lincoln being on that desk was now gone. His whole bedroom with exception of his bed, comforters, and the desk and chair itself was empty and hollow. Like Lincoln was never there at all. The cell phone that had a tracker on it- installed by his parents- was now dead. Shoved into the same box where his action figures lied. He had gifted himself a new cell phone, new laptop, new tablet....nothing could make his parents find his empty tracks. There would be none. Only the lingering scent of his presence that now had vanished into the simple mist of air that his fan blew lightly into the mucky humid bedroom.

Lincoln turned off the desk lamp, closed the blinds, untied the door and hung the note in full view on the front door of his former bedroom. As he sighed, Lincoln glanced one last time at the childhood home he once knew and loved before closing his bedroom door quietly and tiptoeing down the stairs. He disarmed the alarm of the house and walked out without so much as a goodbye. The street was tranquil, only the sounds of crickets were heard. As Lincoln's eyes adjusted to the dark, the houses then appeared. The aromatic husky smell of the night sent waves of calm through Lincoln. He kept his feet solid on the pavement, taking quiet yet shattered steps from the walkway of the house, down to the garage where he kept his used dark gray chevy. The keys jingled slightly from opening the car door and then being plugged into the emission.

The sound of the car starting made Lincoln flinch. But nothing. No one woke, nothing but the sound of sleep and hollowness. Slamming the car door, Lincoln pulled from the driveway, swerving his tires to the main road and stepping on the gas, breaking free from the neighborhood. One last look to the house that sat so perfectly, so white, so big and sheek with its flowered bushes and fancy exterior that matched its neighboring houses styles. The hue that once glowed there had now burned out. Exhausted itself into just another house on a fancy road. Mom and Dad's house. Lincoln had already left mentally, but it was his physical appearance that would have to relinquish.

The morning was quiet. Peaceful. Like any other morning for a picket fence home. You were quiet, having already seen Lincoln's 'surprise' on his bedroom door and then opening it to see emptiness broke inside of you. You just didn't show it. You kept it hidden; festering it inside until it could explode at the right time. You let Harry sleep in as you did with keeping the note on the door for him to discover himself. Instead, you busied yourself with the morning dishes, cooking an English breakfast. The voice of the alarm blaring and the creak of the bed grew into a warm patch on the back of your neck that slugged down to your legs and back. It was numbing and heating in a juxtaposition way. You carefully listened to Harry's footsteps trail over to the right: Lincoln's room. The footsteps stopped for a few moments.

"He's reading the note." you thought. The jiggle of Lincoln's doorknob opening and the pattering of Harry's footsteps trailing into his room like a cave with hidden treasures. There was silence. The same one that smothered the clattery of Lincoln's midnight departure. Your face went cold. Eyes dazed and body in a stillness, not knowing the next step of your husband's reaction.

"Looks like the boy held to his promise." Harry thought. You, turning off the stove, setting the pans aside, goose stomped upstairs in jointace with your husband. But his face was just as casual as yours. No matter how hard you tried, the ringing of Lincoln still hung dry in the room. His bed, just perfect the way he left it. Except it was cold, straight...not one wrinkle in between the sheets of covers.

The desk lamp was still bended in its crooked position. Hunched over the desk counter, sitting alongside with the empty cubbies and dead pictures. Pictures that represented milestones in Lincoln's life. The sailboat Harry helped hang up for 3 year old Lincoln, newspaper clippings framed as a decor for his mystery phase of 12 year old Lincoln, 17 year old Lincoln- just a year ago- hung a lion picture. The only picture that was taken along with Lincoln but not the rest. They all stared at the broken pair of you. Like they grew eyes and taunted you like a buzzing fly that wouldn't leave the room no matter what.

The closet was empty. Any signs of Lincoln were dead. Like he never existed in this room. A sudden grown dread ran though you, leaping you from Harry's side and opening the bottom dresser drawer and snatching out the jewelry box. Opening it was the dead cellphone you had gifted him for his 16th birthday. You and Harry- like all the other cellphones you gave your son- had decided that the rule would be no different. It was never discussed with Lincoln, but always just there. Like it was attached to the cellphone when you bought it fresh from the apple store. He never questioned it, but somehow you knew he hated it. But there it was. Dead. Like Lincoln's bedroom. The life that was in it had dissipated with him. It was like a slap in the face. A reality check warning you were you were headed. Now its too late.

Lincoln was gone and god knows where he could be. What could you do? Call the police? Force them to bring a legal adult back home to his Mommy and Daddy? A gap of air went down with your tears. You swallowed them, ate at them and ignored them. But they still came out anyway. Your mascara smudging, traveling down your cheeks like a riverbank. You couldn't turn and face Harry. It would only make him mask more of his pain. A feeling you both hated to admit to yourselves.

"Well, I'm hungry." Harry walked past you, swishing a rampant of coolness past him. He was so nonchalant and aloof like he had just saw any old car scamper down the street. His son, his child was gone, nowhere to be seen, and this was his reaction. Broad fury infatuated you before dying down at the command of your mind. It just didn't seem like a battle worth fighting for. Walking down the hall now felt ominous and cleft. Like someone had ripped out a chunk of the house and planted a graveyard, burying Lincoln's body in it. Your stomach felt queasy yet empty. The wooden floors were cold and creaky, the stairs felt uneven and crooked like you were walking on floating rocks. The whole house felt dead. Cold, sterile and lifeless. The presence that once filled this house with chroma; giving complexion to the interior of it had bleed itself onto wherever Lincoln was.

Your feet stopped at the door frame of the kitchen. Harry was munching away on the toast that was set in front of him, sipping his coffee, catching up with the lastest on google news. Half of you wanted to slap him so hard that it would ricochet the sense of the matter into him. While the other half wanted to bungle up into his arms and cry copiously, choking on every breathe, gasping on every tear and squeezing some more out while he kissed the tiny stalks of hair on your scalp so deeply that you could feel his pointed lips puckering tightly, pressuring into your skin, whistling into a husky smooch once suctioned off.

But instead, you almost tripped on your own feet walking into the kitchen while Harry barely bat an eye. If he even cared enough to notice at all.

You turned your concentration towards the sink; eyes focusing on the single drips from the faucet, pulsing a beat on the sink floor with water beads lying all around it. It was the rolling sound your stomach made that made you grab a plate and plop the work of your family breakfast onto it. You sat directly across from Harry, staring down at your plate; bacon, two sunny side up eggs staring back at you, baked beans, fried tomatoes and toast just laying there lifeless onto your plate. Meanwhile, with the slithering glimpses of Harry just munching away at his breakfast like it was just any old morning. Like he had never ever known Lincoln, like he didn't exist was unpalatable in itself. You made it through breakfast barely, but upon stuffing your dishes into the sink, one of them slammed down harder then intended and broke a half of itself off.

Tears flooded your eyes; dropping the broken piece of stoneware into the sink and rushing to the phone. Your fingers, mucky, damp, thick with a bludgeoning adrenaline and fingertips dipped with humidity slowly dialed the numbers of Lincoln's number almost with the same carefulness a prisoner makes in calling the number of his lawyer or attorney. But it was just a hum of static on the other end. You dialed it again, static. Again, static.

No mistakes and no active number. Maybe more carefully.

"Hello? This is Parestake house, can I get a phone number for your order?" The lady's voice, dry and polite, but rather tired from the same busy rumination of answering with the same motto. But there was no response; hanging up without any apology for the wasting the time of someone completely oblivious to the situation.

Slamming the phone into its hook and sitting down on the couch to collect thoughts of what would eject Lincoln from this house so quickly, so quietly, yet so prepared. Like this wasn't a random thought....this was something that had been slithering through the depths of this house for a long time. Creeping through the brain of Lincoln for longer than you and Harry were led to believe. You and him both knew where you stood on Lincoln's heavily monitored independence. The words "I'm moving out" would've knocked a bitter drip into you. Like poison medicine in an IV drip. Springs of arguments would've poured out into the house, booming into threats, a fury of words that would have spilled from Harry's mouth and slapping Lincoln in the face with them. He knew that.

So he left quietly and quickly like a mouse of the night just like he wanted. No regrets and no returns.

Lincoln had settled himself nicely into his apartment. The space had been sitting empty for a solid month. The landlord didn't argue with the young and less experienced tenant upon realizing the boy was a lot smarter and prepared than his prejudiced mind had allowed him to comprehend. Lincoln being one of the youngest residents in the building was one of the mildest. Never throwing loud parties, no loud music, complaints didn't exist and above all, just a forgettable neighbor. Accompanying inside his new home was a calm iguana, Orb. Despite not having a couch, dining table or bed yet, Lincoln still made the small space a home; old bedroom pictures hung the walls of his bedroom, and the desk nick nacks were the new decor of the living area.

Taking his money and setting the groups of hundreds down on the table, organizing them into rent, electronics, food, lighting, furniture, and heating for those colds winters. Gas was complimentary of the landlord. Using a blow up mattress, Lincoln still made it up like it was the real thing. After all, he took pride in the freedom he now had. Despite being materially poor.

But that would soon change once Lincoln got his footing. A lot could happen in a years worth of time.

The blustery blossoms were rattled by the gusts of spring air that circled through the block. The white house sat empty, and you had sat emptier on the bed in your bedroom, watching Harry walk back and forth by you, straightening his tie for work. A voice in you broke; not knowing where it was coming from. "I tried calling Lincoln yesterday..." Your voice drifted to the fireplace, your glance finally turning your head there. Harry stopped for a moment before returning his attention to his tie. "And?" His voice, rasp with that albion accent, but still enriched with some sternness. "He didn't respond," You looked towards the fireplace again, "I think he changed his number in fact."

"He didn't call or text at all? No response from him whatsoever?" Harry questioned. His voice beckoned slight alarm. You shook your head. "Nothing." Harry bit the side of his lip. "Maybe...." Harry looked up to you. You took a deep breath and sighed, swallowing any rising fear because you knew what your husband's reaction would be to such a notion.

"Lincoln is 18...he's almost an adult. Kids leave for college around this age. If he did move somewhere, it was most likely with a friend or someone he trusts?" Even you and Harry couldn't deny that Lincoln was very trustworthy. A good kid, something you both took for granted. Lincoln cared just enough about pleasing his parents. That was it at the the end of the day....pleasing..not worshipping.

You could see Harry's anger through the collar of his shirt. His vein bulged out from his neck, throat pushing down a hard scoop of vile. "Maybe...but we're still calling the police if he doesn't want to respond." You couldn't deny the way Harry said it. He meant it to assert control. Something that he would never get in this situation. "We could...." Your husband turned to you. But you just sent him a shrug. Harry pierced his eyes into you like needles, before shaking his head collecting his suitcase. You swallowed your ideas and watched from the window as Harry's dark cherry red Honda left the garage and drove down the street.

You stumbled back over to the bed, plopping down and fiddled with the silver diamond studded band that held a decent sized diamond on your left hand, ring finger. How embedded it had been into your hand for the past 28 years. How hard it was for you to get it. Woodstock, Vermont. Your hometown, raised by your father in the sleepytown of MerylStone. The rich blanket of green grass that sprouted stalks upon stalks of it over the hills of the countryside, shining and echoing its sunny glow in the inaugural of summer. You remembered it there with some fond memories.

The big brick house on Swiva Street; its white window panes and shutters, the creaky swingset in the backyard, the arenaceous walkway -that was covered over in concrete that one summer- that led right up to the house and the shrubby bushes on either side of the house that your late mother's roses would spring out of every spring. Pa called it "heaven's little gift for taking your Ma." Your father worked as a workshop teacher at the local high school you attended. You had this allure towards books, science, biology. Potential to be something of your own credit. But Pa had his own idea of you; living in the house, baking cookies, feeding the children, catering to a husband freshly picked from the rounds of other 'good country boys' in the town.

"I'm not sure if biology is a major you can keep up with baby girl," Your causal sideway look eyerolls were a ritual whenever Pa's old fashioned aims vexed you. "Home Ec is more your speed, other girls would love to take this class! What's wrong honey? Don't you wanna learn how to sow a proper dress?" You would learn: by books, demonstrations or something else besides a dainty old class meant for girls. Only girls.

Stuffing the advice, you took the Home Ec classes to save face of your father's job. But college was different. You had your life set in stone; independent from you father's plans. "Yn, you don't need no college education. It's just a waste of money. You just settle yourself down with a nice boy, like Landon Pines only a few blocks up the street. You'll make a lovely housewife and mother...I'm sure of it." The thought of settling in this town is what thrusted your hands faster in packing away your clothes and everything else in between into two large suitcases, two duffle bags and a backpack. "Yn I-"

"Pa....look. I just don't want that for myself right now. Maybe someday in the future, but not now. I wanna be something more than that." And lord knew the backwards town would support a notion like that. How scuffling it was just to learn to drive. Pa lightened up when his heart started weighing him down. Driving him to the hospital quieted him just a little about keeping your 'little fingers' off the wheel. Pa looked into your soft eyes. His hands touching your cheeks, realizing this meant goodbye. Goodbye for good.

You'd much rather prefer the busy nightlife of New York or Boston, California or London. No old dirt or grassy fields. Instead, being replaced with thick walls of buildings that would tower a shadow over the city. From there, it was London. The college you had accepted on first invite. Your last year was when you had met Harry. His adze emerald orbs, Clark Kent curls, deep crater dimples and bunny smile. A financial planning student, locked eyes with you in study hall. Harry's deep reasoning of the world drew you in like bee to a flower. Harry, would invite you into his dorm to 'study'; painting the walls of his first apartment, a honeybee yellow before curling up into his satin navy blue sheets. And even after graduation, Harry saw a future with you.

His company of boomed, exploding within the first couple months of his investment and savings. But Harry didn't need riches, he had them already planted into his family seed. Gemma, his sister inherited her share before taking off to her journalism passion. "Now don't you two get into any trouble." Harry's mother, Anne, would state. Although, delivered in a playful manner, the pair both knew exactly what she meant. The Styles family were of an aristocrat sort, priding their name with glory and perfection, to the best they could deliver. It was something codeded into Harry's blood. Into Gemma's blood, Anne's....and soon, Yn's. You had taken the family name at the tender age of 25. Harry scraping by only a year her senior.

Your acceptance into the Styles family uprooted uproar. Not from Anne, no. But Pa. "You're engaged! To him!" Was his reaction upon hearing of his daughter wanting to marry a one of the supercilious type. But Harry's cavaliering ways were non-existent. He showed Pa the upmost respect, even when the normally mellowed man would patronize him with the most derogatory and yokel allegations. "Yn, what's wrong with Bruce Candem or Holt Jackner?" You shrugged those suggestions off, "They're not my type."

"But this macaroni is? He's no strapping treasure. Is that how you are? Some little macaroni?" Your face grew hot and sweat dripped from your temples. The blazing sun was no way to discuss this manner. "I guarantee...he'll leave ya! Just you wait Yn...he'll find someone who will satisfy him and then it'll be over!" But you had already ran from the hill and into a taxi cab, shooting you straight back to Boston, where a new home was waiting for you and your new husband. The last you saw of Pa was when he made a debut at the wedding, dragging along country folk that you had outgrown years ago. Their bleak minded views were no longer holding reign to your now freed polished and worldly ones. It had fizzled inside of you since birth and being born in the wrong place was just a simple mistake.

Your face grew tomato colored, glancing over to see your rustic souvenirs from the past, give harsh glares to the modern world of Harry's family. You tried to pay no attention; settling your eyes on Harry's green ones before sealing your vows with a kiss.

The twinkle of the wind chimes from Mrs. Laundbary's front porch sent a cooling sensation through you. It was like you could smell from the glass of the pine from the trees, the dew of the grass and the tickle of the wind. The house; tranquil, capacious...silent. No one home. You were alone in the midst of a blank home. Paintings hung with shiny timber or aureate frames, vases sculpted from scarce stones and decor hanging over the white walls, shadowing their singular designs over the home. Your footsteps into the hallway echoed like those of an empty museum. Cold, tense, fragile; everything too expensive to touch. They all represented Harry's taste: the derelict of stabling a proper piece of sentimentalism.

Even in your morning gown, your body still couldn't tug the wrap of such lavish silk. Like a stranger's body had morphed itself into this home, the surreal life. A home you knew well from physical travel. The ins and outs of the kitchen, the walk-in closet you and Harry shared, the master bedroom; a lounge to you and Harry and the well sunlit backyard patio; barbeque roasts, pool parties and simple sunbathing while Lincoln cavorted away in the backyard. But all this, the white mansion, the sumptuous neighborhood...nothing felt like your own. Just Harry's. It could've been yours. Maybe better.

You still had your degrees; hung somewhere in the basement with nothing for it to live under. Harry was the CEO of, Styles Inc. The multi million dollar corporation that catered to cars, planes, buses, trains, lavish transportations. Once that had happened, why bother working? Stay home, tend to the house, care for the plants, cook the meals, maybe even bake a cake just for the sake of it...at least that's what Harry said. He didn't mean it to be a step down for you; putting dollar bill after dollar bill into your hard earned education, to prove to yourself and your lout old town that a woman could be something more than their society of bumpkins. But...it was a waste. Escaping the prison of MerylStone, only to land yourself back into what your father had envisioned from the start halted you.

It wasn't until a week after Pa's funeral; the testator had assigned for you to clear out the home of your father, which meant a plane ride from Boston to Vermont. The old brick house hadn't changed a bit. The dusty tan welcome mat had eerily saved its writing still in its bought condition. The old windchime had pieces missing like those of broken teeth. The country hillside, the lush blanket of grass was now just grass. An empty home sitting below the little hill wasn't so cute anymore. Now..abandoned. You'll never forget the chill of your spine that slithered itself inside of you, as you cleared away everything that coincided your father ever being here.

Your old bedroom, still had its shadows from your old posters. Being in the ghosttown of the house gave you the same feeling walking into Lincoln's dead bedroom. The moving men packed your father's old things into boxes, moving the heavy things like couches, beds, and heavy dresses into moving trucks with your instructions. But before taking the old grainy nightstand by Pa's bed, you opened it to find his old bible with the red page sides pressed together into this bulky red velvet line. Just the feel of the soft leather brought you back into your senses. Memories of college, woodshop class in highschool, Home Ec....they all marked you into this person of who you wanted to be. So caught in day to day life of being a housewife, that you had slowly sunken into this mold of a lie. Pa was right....despite marrying rich, despite all your biology studies, London college......you still became nothing more but just a housewife.

Slamming the bible down into the drawer, you husked yourself out of the house, over the hill and into the rental car, speeding off to the nearest airport. You foot heavily pressed to the pedal, mind flashing in different directions all afraid to go to the one that haunted you the most. Pa was dead...there was nothing more to prove. The ring somehow tightened around your finger. Maybe to yourself? Harry was the one you loved happily ever after right?

He was at the office, as usual. It was just business...it was always business. Signing checks, business meetings in Colorado, Canada, Ohio and whatever you could think of. But he was home before you; coming back in the evening, settling your sunflower hat down on the rack, ripping the heels from your feet, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your light pink dress shirt and running your fingers through your thick strands. "He's really gone Harry. Pa's dead," You looked toward the window, "If you could get hedges in the morning, that would be nice." Harry just stood there, washing his dinner dishes. That was all to be said about Pa ever again.

Harry typed away at his computer, the usual smell of lavender hitting the edges of the office. There sat a tilted slightly mahogany framed picture of you and Lincoln. No sight of himself, but on purpose, as this was just something to remind him of those long work hours. The sight was a refreshing reminder to "not get into any trouble." The grayish colored room was nothing new to the CEO. Harry had been in and out of these rooms for as long as he could remember. There was nothing special of it as he knew this is where he would be. There was nothing else. His only partner that filled him day to day was empty hidden bottle of vodka under the desk. It helped him focus on some days when his hours just didn't numb the world out enough. Something he justified with layering the evening drink with his usual morning cup of joe.

He picked himself better than to be just another ritzy boy to snag off his parents loot without earning his name, his keep. Anne and Desmond boasted to him and Gemma to always make a name for themselves. Of course, they were entitled to as much money as their desires could carry, but nevertheless, it always thumped within the siblings to be their own Mr. or Mrs. Styles. The depths of their castle like mansion spoke volumes of its own. The posh interior of the house matched the cultivated taste of the family. The light gray walls were accented with light tealish blues and silver powdered with white. Those summers where the branched tickled the windows of the terrace and the lush poofy bushes looked like a painting hanging in a museum. The light gray house with a curve on the tip of the roof; racking its color in blush dark peach held the proper expectation to the public as did the inside.

Toying with the silver band on his finger, Harry finally racked up some numbers and matched them a check before clicking out for lunch. His breath was thick, eyes lumpy like they had been glued to a bright screen for days. They side eyed the picture, focusing closely on Lincoln. His preppy boy smile with his father's dimples and his mother's chin.

Those eyes, green and wide like his, but his nose and cheeks were rosey tinted like his mother's. Harry had underestimated the innocent little 8 year old he had known all his life. Those games of catch in the backyard, mushy bedtime stories and well calculated tactics of getting little Lincoln to eat half of his vegetables. The day Lincoln learned to crawl was when Harry's back was turned to the stove, heating up water in the boiling pot. He turned to see the giggling baby take rickety steps to his dad, before falling back down on the tiles to his little hands and knees. "Oooh!" Harry squealed, taking him in his arms and looking into his big eyes. "Did my little boy take his first steps?" Harry cooed, puckering his lips and kissing Lincoln's chubby cheek. Looking deep into his sugary eyes, not wondering what his little eyes were grasping, but more of what he was hiding from his father behind those cuddly looks.

It was shortly after you had lost Pa, the funeral had been now a solid 4 months behind you. Harry had been in his home office, figuring out the latest code for an account. The traction in the house was cabled. It was this thin wire of pondering looks and gagged words between the pair of you. Those stomach aches and backaches were nothing more than stress pins from what you were carrying in between. It wasn't until those 3 missed periods that you wheeled yourself to the doctors.

Sitting the cold unblemished waiting room of the obstetrician's office sent shudders through your gut. Goosebumps and raised hairs sprouted despite it being the dead of fall which prompted a sweater with slide on blue jeans and ugg boots. You tried to focus on the chipped white paint of your fingernails that had been wearing the color for almost a week and a half, instead of the fancy lab coats that swung by in the harmony with the nurses. Dr. Katz, your doctor swung by in her white lab coat, currant red blouse that was neatly tucked into the gray dress pants she donned and the clickety black high heels that clicked with every sophisticated movement. Grabbing files- your files- handing them off to nurses in their varying scrub designs with loose stethoscopes dangling around their necks, silver watches around their wrists, rolled up undershirts....the aesthetic was dreamlike. This was what you wanted....you remembered shadowing Dr. Hawke around the hospital before you had married Harry. The dream of being an established individual with a husband to side part you, not him just to show for your success.

Those sacrifices....were not something easy to let go of. Harry had promised to provide for you....but it wasn't enough. No, you needed the thrill of working, the smell of sterile hospital rooms was a second home for you, possibly a first one.

"Yn Styles?"

The name is what brought you back down to earth. A name that wasn't yours, only a jagged extension of something you had realized long ago. Those seven letter words flashed through your mind like a strike a lightning. Was it too late? Those years had become dull, hardened and pinching when understanding this was not what was expected from the vows of a man and woman. You kicked yourself for thinking of such an easy way out.

Pa was dead and the townsfolk were not completely eradicated from your memory. Word back home would be of a wiseacre from everyone who watched you walk away from their illiterate sleepytown and ram into this big city with better opportunities. Coming back to it, would confirm a thought you had shoved yourself to distance from. You had only yourself to prove to at this point.

But, on the call of the name, you still rose from the chair and walked to the exam room, taking a seat on the table.

"Well, Mrs. Styles..the reason for your missed periods is," Dr. Katz turned to her clipboard, grabbing a long paper and handing it to you, "You're pregnant." A pin dropped. "What?" You wanted to hear those words again. "You are 5 weeks pregnant." She pointed to the little indefinite fetus that had formed in your uterus. A smile transpired and you found yourself more animated. Once leaving the building, in the car, you took one last look at the hospital before throwing the ultrasound pictures to the passenger seat.

"No use for that now." You thought before turning the key and starting the engine. The light of the cloudy afternoon sky shined a glimpse of light onto the black and white picture of you and Harry's 18 year long project. Maybe...just maybe....it could spark something in between the pair of you again. You hoped.

Harry upon getting the news he would become a father delighted him. He questioned the wait of it, wanting to impose another name into the Styles inheritance. The nursery was all set, pictures of balloons, a bouncy yet firm crib, styled in the corner was large teddy bear, tied with a blue bow around his neck. The little detailed decor had come only after discovering that your baby was a boy. Lincoln Styles, was to be his name. Harry insisted it, the social plucking of someone with such an adjustable yet polished name suited someone of his variety.

The countless hours sitting at his desk, windling away at his computer, matching up number after number for accounts, upgrades for his machines and meetings discussing the latest car or train or bus. Following in Desmond's footsteps of being a businessman, Harry knew the unpalatable hours and the sharp work ethic he would have to acquire himself to. But he didn't mind. Seeing his company expand; rapid with his unsalable ideas and adroitness of the workplace. Fumbling over his pen, he caught a swift smell of Luna's, his secretary's perfume.

Luna herself was married with 4 children. Her husband, Hugh, a president of Sincomet, a rubber company, knew the ins and outs of CEO world, as he was tightly under one himself. But even more so, Luna understood the tough reign his job would contribute to the household. It was one Christmas party, an office one that was held at the Parkstor Community Center, she had revealed her upbringing was one of the same polished ave as her boss's. "My mother had old money, but my father ran this clothing design company. It was passed down to him from decades of other relatives." Her mention of this was brought up when Harry had shared his very much indistinguishable childhood himself. Hugh was of the same material; sharing knowing glances with his wife of how aware they were of each other.

Luna and Hugh connected like lego blocks of a puzzle. Both of the same refined culture they cherished near to their hearts..but it was the understanding of a certain way of life that fully brought perspective to them.

You stood by the punch bowl, glancing towards you husband, taking casual sips of punch. Harry looked down at his loosely laced shoe lace on his black loafer. Eyes squirming to you bleakly before gunning down to the floor again. Your beach style white dress was nothing compared to Luna's burgundy Ralph Lauren dress that hung elegantly above the knees that were covered by black sheer pantyhose. It was her apparel that made Harry question himself why she would be working such a banausic secretarial job, when she could be home enjoying the generosity of her riches. She had a strong work ethic. Busying herself with the day to day tasks of answering phone calls, scheduling meetings and lunches, rather than sitting in a dusky house all day.

The contrast effect of the two housewives was risible. Taking shattered looks to you and then Luna, sparked a quivering thought into Harry's mind. If it wasn't for your siren call in college; painting that old apartment, the effusive intimacy in those silk sheets, the way Harry traced those curves, remembering them like a map of a hidden path in the brazilian forest and those tender winter blue kisses on his lips and cheeks. If all that didn't' exist, then.....would he have married a Luna type?

Someone of the same social class, same upbringing- knowing the tight views of acceptable - or having a refined definition public. Never having to keep watchful eye of his spouses history in a hick town with her hillbilly of a community. She would fit right in with the Styles clan; having a well rounded view of society and money. Really, your own merit of sophistication is what united the two of you in the first place. Harry took a risk at 26 as did you; sealing in vows that wouldn't make sense only a year from when they first came about. It was the then, that he dragged you out of the party, mouth ajar like he wanted to speak, but suckled in his the last of his energy for the night. "Did Preston sign the account?" Harry, eyes steeled on the road, knuckles white and solid on the wheel, still managed to shake out a: "Yes darling, yes he did."

Putting his hand on your thigh, forcing a rush through his body like heroin. He pinched this tight smile together, showcasing enough of his little boy dimples, but his eyes were nuanced and dingy. It would remain that way until you both arrived home with different states of mind.

The hope didn't return until those faded black and white images of a fetus came into view. Finally, a son to show for the Styles family business. Harry still remembered that partially flowy cream sweater with stone washed jeans that bidded a flourish of appreciation in him. The way the sweater flowed over your bump but still hugged it enough to show how protruding it was lit his eyes like a child in toy store. Lincoln's birth was the best thing in the world for you both. Adapting your attention to your new addition wasn't at all a difficult. Glady devoting time to bottle feedings, late night diaper changes and playdates. Teddy bears filled his bed and toys filled his bedroom. You and Harry had developed your own relationship with Lincoln with an unspoken agreement. This was the heart of your marriage. A piece that brought it together.

But it didn't. Once the diaper days were long gone, and those preschool and kindergarten dreams fizzled, you were left with a newly independent pre-teen. One who finally saw all the cracks of his seemingly perfect life and was now on a countdown to escape. This parental involvement wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just two parents of any only child that put them more on the overprotect radar. Didn't matter though; like all the other parents in the world who were well informed of the risks that came with children were not to been given an excuse for such lackluster discernment on their kids. But yours and Harry's was different of course, like always. Working hard to convince Lincoln that his cocoon was nothing mere than a close relationship with his parents and this was the requirement.

But....who were you kidding. The kid saw like glass on how proprietorial his parents were. The reasoning became clearer to him, seeing other kids and their parents affectionate relationship. You knew he would. One incident of Lincoln meeting Susan Blakely. The coffee color of her long hair that hung so effortlessly to her waist with perfect curls that bounced at the end. Lincoln had been invited to her party, seeing him as eye candy was a mutual feeling they shared. The quiff Lincoln styled his brown curls into, the leather jacket that studded sophistication into it and his dark blue jeans, not too snug or loose, but hung just right above his black sneakers.

"You look so handsome!" Lincoln, trollied down the stairs; eyes abstracted on the front door. Harry's car was nowhere to be found in the driveway or garage, the only way Lincoln could make such a hasty escape with a settled acceptance from you. Shortly after Lincoln made a route from the house to Sam's car- a friend who had a license compared to the rest of the group- Harry's honda pulled into the garage. The house, dim, throttled like the air had been sucked dry. The slow but base footsteps followed the shadow of light into the kitchen. It made you stomach burn into this knot, poking at it like jilted feeling of not being able to do something that had to be done. It wasn't until Harry spotted your figure standing over the sink, washing dishes, daring not to make eye contact afraid of the first words being garotted out.

"Where's Lincoln?" You gave a side eye back glance, not fully looking into those stiff green eyes, but only his shadow that stood peering only over the stovetop. "At a party," It was like a gun being held to your head, forcing you to spill a dirty secret of a close friend. "But, I told him it was okay. I knew Susan's mother so, it's fine." You bit your tongue, punishing it for speaking out of term. "Susan? A girl?" You finally faced Harry, dropping the cup into the sink. "You know how much trouble they could get into! Yn how could-" Harry jolted himself to the coat rack, grabbing the keys from his coat pocket. "Harry, stop! It's not a big deal! Isn't my word enough? You'll embarrass him." Harry only glanced at you before buttoning up his long black trench coat. "You know we both have to verify things Yn." He coldly stated before zipping out the door and into his car.

The waiting was the worst part. Fingers tapping against the arm of the chair, drumming up its own melody of anticipation. The same one you had sitting in the bathroom that one night to confirm what you had already knew from Dr. Katz. Those two lines appeared like magic across the test, still shuddering this surrealness into you like it was the first time. Like the ultrasound had somehow made a mistake in diagnosing your pregnancy. The booming of the front door opening rocked your attention towards a furious Lincoln and a concerned Harry. Lincoln glanced at you as if to say: "Why did you tell him? Did he really have to know?" Before storming up to his room, cold shouldering Harry on his way up.

"I offered to take him to laser tag tomorrow afternoon." You shook your head, "He's a teenager Harry, he wants to spend time with his friends." "I'm his friend? Right?" Harry looked for any signs of agreement on your face. But your eyes, were just tired. Tired of the same broken record that played out not to poles apart from this. "What happened?" A deep sigh finally eradicated from your mouth, blowing out the wind from your lungs like you were too scared to even ponder the outcome of what you knew to be an explosive event.

Lincoln sat bitterly on his bed. His used up sneakers curled up on the floor by his closet, his leather jacket shot over to the back of his swivel chair and his glare still edging throughout the room. His father; downstairs telling his mother a stagnant version of the event, curveting over the little details that complete the puzzle.

Lincoln, making his move over to Susan, laughing, chatting and then kissing. Kissing her with passion, not daring to take a step in the wrong direction, but just savoring the touch of her strawberry lips. Pulling away, he spots this thick black coat walking towards him, mix matched with all the other shambles of kids circling around the party making this figure stand amongst them. Harry didn't yell, or scream or riot. But he simply looped his arm around his son's and dragged him out without a word. The flashes of faces staring out at this eccentric scene became spotted. Heat filled Lincoln's face: part with infused fury and the other with disregarded shame. The car ride was rigid; Lincoln faced the window, not speaking what ran so rapidly through his mind. Swallowing back any grimaces that could trace any more rebellion to him. Instead, Harry suggested laser tag which sent Lincoln shooting from the car and into the house.

He noticed how dry his lips were, recalling those last moments of innocence. The 16 year old would now realize just how twisted things would get and how this was just a mere act. An act of rebellion from his father as well. The wheels turned like car tires, rolling through a freshly paved road in the country in Lincoln's brain. His suspicions of his parents were just much more than to be brushed off with basic teenage angst....it was more sinister than that. The picket fence became discolored, chipped, cracked, broken....the lie couldn't be covered. Harry's fatherly concern was just a big six wheel game. His reputation, was a part of him. And with it, his lies. They're precious angel was just a fine line between the couple. A broken chance of coming together. They needed Lincoln. He understood. They needed him way more than he did. He was their last hope, without him, the marriage would just be a slash to the Styles clan, and hickey on your neck for MerylStone to be blasted long and wide for everyone to realize, you and Harry were just not the match made in heaven you both thought yourselves to be.

"I thought he'd be at work," Lincoln said aloud to himself, "I thought he was working late. He always does when it's Friday."

Harry and Lincoln wrestled on it the most, but you had this understanding. This knowledge of the whole view. You and Pa, working against his efforts to mold this housewife out of you and now Harry and Lincoln. Pacifying him, molding him to full dependence on you both. Making everything into a fool's paradise. Pa's only good reasoning was ignorance, but this was a well calculated, instituted masterplan. Lincoln became another life to you. He possessed this barrier between you and Harry; working together to keep the one lifeline of this family incased to his parents. Such a selfish plan was sure to face a humiliating defeat, but you didn't care. Neither did Harry. Plastering the name of good parents onto his reputation when he couldn't even get his own son to stay.

Willing to offer his son's life for his own was pure repulsive. You had realized that, the night Lincoln turned 18; a stabbing coolness in your back and sharp pinging kick told you this was it. Things were going to end and fast. And now, he's gone. Just like that into the night. No goodbye, no I love you....nothing. Because in the end, that's what you gave him. You and Harry....nothing. Those nights, hearing your panging yelling and Harry's screeching temper, seeped Lincoln under the dining room table. You knew the boy was smart, you knew he was fighting to survive, you knew he wasn't just this ungrateful brat who whisked himself away over some petty curfew hustle.

No. You and Harry were the problem. The toxic wasteland that threatened to rip the sanity from the only sane person in this house. Lincoln did what you and your husband could never....walk away.

He knew the truth, he didn't cheat or cover it. But simply left it out in the open and accepted it for what it was worth.

You grabbed the family portrait, looking it dreadfully in the eyes before slamming it down to the ground while a scream left your voice. Harry arrived back to see the broken glass and the disgruntled look on your face. Tears finally broke free, slashing their way down your cheeks. "You did this!" You yelled, practically spitting the words into Harry's face. "You drove our baby away! He was fine, he was happy! But you couldn't stand to let go! Now he's gone and you don't even care! You didn't cry or feel sorry, nothing! You're never letting go!" Catching your breath, "You know I didn't want this! I know what you think everyday going to work everyday! You know what I think and wonder!"

"Yes I do!" Slamming his suitcase down the the floor, papers scattering everywhere in the living room. "I am sad yn! I know why he left, I know all of that! He's my son! I love him! And you know that!"

"You couldn't stop being selfish! I wanted to let go! I wanted to take the parental controls off his phone, I wanted to let him drive at 16, I wanted to let him go to his friend's party! But you said no! Because he's your little safety net! You couldn't think about him as a person! For once, you couldn't see him as more than a boy! Now he's gone and I can't see him! He ran away from us! HE LEFT US BECAUSE OF OUR PROBLEMS!" Grabbing the stone washed vase, smashing to pieces on the floor. "I want my baby back!"

Harry silently grabbed your arm silently. Tears, falling like rain drops on a car window, wettend Harry's face. He went to the wet bar, poured himself a scotch before speaking. "I'm sorry." His voice, so quiet and collected, yet so broken and shattered. You didn't waste time running into Harry's arms, sobbing quietly into each other. He took your chin to his eyes. "We'll fix this. We have to try, no more beating around the bush if this is gonna be fixed." You nodded. "Of course."

"And maybe one day....he'll come back....and we'll be better." You added. You could feel Harry smiling into your scalp, kissing it gently.

And you prayed you and Harry could. And that you could be that happy little family in a white house with a picket fence.

This took me a week to work on!!! Hope you liked it!!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles and yn #dysfunctional #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles husband #harry ❤️ yn #harry and yn #harry x yn #harry x reader

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missglaskin · 1 year

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i personally don’t see Aegon growing up into show!Aegon if he and the reader were raised as brother and sister. at the very least he’d be a hedonist with a bit of a drinking problem but no one would really bat an eye at that considering he’s not set to inherit anything so there’s a bit more freedom in being born the ‘spare’ child. but the lengths this man would go to, to please the reader would be maddening.

it would mostly begin with Aegon attempting to become a knight from all those fairytale books the reader likes to read. mastering the longsword Blackfyre before testing the waters with daggers and lances. the first time Aegon declared he’d be taking part in a tourney Alicent nearly choked on her breakfast. but inevitably Aegon will realize that the reader wants more then a pretty boy donning pretty armour so he begins to attempt the whole chivalry part of being a knight too. something about Aegon awkwardly pulling out the reader’s chair think Jaime jumping up from the table to pull out a chair for Brienne to join them during the last GOT season when they’re in Winterfell together makes Viserys chuckle as he murmurs something about “young love” into Alicent’s ears.

but sometimes Aegon can become incredibly insecure standing next to his brother. not because Aemond is tall and strong and handsome but rather because Aemond’s intellect is already being compared to his grandfather’s as he spends his days studying philosophy and histories. the first time Otto runs into Aegon in the library, the old man has to do a double take believing he’d lost his mind for a moment before softly asking Aegon if he needs help finding something. and Aegon admits that he’s struggling to find a book that won’t numb his mind or induce a nap. within a week, Aegon enters his chambers to find a stack of fairytale-esque books that heavily incorporate war and politics but in a way that actually makes learning enjoyable. the prince merely stares awkwardly at Otto when they run into each other after and Otto nods in understanding. no words spoken. and the queen is left confused.

once Aegon enters his twenties, the prince realizes he must actually begin focusing establishing his place in court and building a future after seeing the reader is interested in Tyrion older men that are capable of thinking beyond the next tourney. so he uses his privilege as the king’s eldest son to usurp the role of Lord Commander of the City Watch despite several protest. and Aegon simply retorts that if Rhaenyra is meant to rule after the king, then as her brother, it is his duty to protect her, right? but it sort of backfired because although Viserys eagerly agrees, the king also believes Aemond should follow in suit and names him Lord Captain of the Red Keep’s Guard too, evening the scales between the brothers once again.

it’s during this conversation that Aemond, Viseron and Jace realize they’ve gotten so caught up fighting each other that they’ve completely overlooked Aegon under the belief he’d never grow out of his juvenile follies quick

I do agree. Aegon will go to whatever length to please and win the reader over. He tries his best to be a gentleman- he really does. It just doesn't come naturally as it does with Jace.

Alicent and Otto encourage Aegon further, and for the first time in a long time, Viserys himself pays attention to Aegon. Praising him for being so considerate to the reader.

Out of the boys, it's Aemond who first catches into what's going on. He knows his mother and grandfather always wanted to choose Aegon over him, he was the oldest after all. But Aemond felt he had the upper-hand in that he proved to be mindful of his duties.

So he notices when Aegon starts attending lessons. He notices Aegon hunched over trying his best to read. The final confirmation was Aegon's presence in the training fields.

Regarding the tourneys, Alicent rejects Aegon's offer. She knows how competitive Aemond can be and while Aemond may not kill his brother. The same cannot be said for Viserion who will love to have the opportunity.

It takes Viserion and Jace some time. Vis is too focused on making a rival of Aemond and still greatly underestimates Aegon. Jace is just awe-struck around the reader, too focused on her than anyone else.

Though when Aegon takes the position of the commander of the city watch, it's one of the rare times when the three boys have a somewhat civil conversation. All along they were busy fighting with one another that Aegon slipped under their nose.

#yandere concept

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transgender-bruce-wayne · 2 years

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Alfred has had the most insane career path I think about it weekly. Like imagine you're the son of a butler to some established American family, and everyone just expects you'll grow up to take his place, but you're like, "Fuck that! Give my whole life away? For some boring household service? No, dad, that's YOUR dream!" and you move back to England and join the military and become a secret service agent and go on spy missions like 007, and then you get sick of being a literal superspy and decide you want to be an actor instead so easy as that your undercover experience gets you onto the stages of West fucking End just that easy huh. And then you're called back to America, because your dad is dying, and you're like, "Ok, I'll come. I'll grieve. I'll help out. I'll take care of him. And then I'm going back to my life," except then you meet Thomas' son, and he's this lonely little bookworm who looks like what might come out if you took two of your dearest friends and stuck them in a blender, and he's immediately attaches himself to you and won't stop asking you questions. And THEN your friends/employers die after you didn't drive them home from the movies, and they leave this traumatized little boy behind with no one but him, and you're like, "I'm never leaving you again. You hear me? I'm never leaving you alone again." And you realize, shit, you've become your father. You've totally become everything you said you wouldn't. You've given up your life of freedom and excitement for one dedicated wholly to the service of someone else in boring household work. Except it's Bruce. And you're Alfred. And because he's him, and you're you, and you RAISED him, he grows up to be the goddamn Batman. And that's your career path. Very different from the expected job description.

alfred has every single right to lecture bruce when hes being stupid because alfred has lived both as citizen and as a man with a more "daring" career path, which means he knows what it's like to be on both sides of the experience that bruce puts himself through as batman. but at the same time alfred was fucking edgy ass hell going into the secret service so he also has no right at all to lecture bruce

oh, to be a british ex-secret service agent, ex-actor, current-butler working for a mentally ill rich boy in new jersey that fights criminals with a bat-aesthetic.

do you think alfred ever realized how unique his career path was, or do you think he just considered it normal compared to bruce's nightly endeavors?

#that bit about alfred never leaving bruce is so sweet #god you just bring hit after hit man #im going to be thinking about this for the next few weeks LMAO #bruce wayne #batman #alfred #alfred pennyworth

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tired-reader-writer · 2 months

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Arslan Senki Reread

Maybe they got too used to Andragoras' way of Head-on Combat All The Time™ lol. I don't believe the main Lusitanian forces have fought against Team Arslan at this point? So they were expecting more raw, straightforward power from Team Arslan's end only for the latter to go... “hahaha, nope~ :3”

This line probably doesn't warrant this much overthinking but somehow it got me thinking about gender roles??

So in Pars, women in general... don't tend to have all that much freedom or power? They rarely travel (nobility, at least. maybe merchant families do travel a lot, I dunno), they don't hold military ranks, they can't be monarch, they also probably can't be de jure head of the household (even if they can hold de facto power and sway). Alfarīd and Farangis pretty much seem to be the exceptions, as far as I remember. I might be wrong, I was going off of some old spoilers post I read or smth like that, the topic of gender hasn't come up in the manga unfortunately.

And Lusitania... Etoile is the only soldier we see that was born a girl. And even then, Etoile had to “throw away their (female, original) name” and functionally become a boy in order to be able to enter the army. They're the only child of a knight family, it would be up to them to continue the family line if it came to it, the truth of their gender would've come up eventually, I assume they would still be allowed to their knighthood by that point in the far hypothetical future? Otherwise the whole shebang would kinda turn out pointless.

I wonder how things are in Turan. Jimsa didn't bat an eye at the female warriors in Arslan's entourage. Maybe like in Otoyomegatari, the women possessing some level of combat capabilities is fairly normal?

A preliminary flying Daryun! I won't be screencapping the end-of-the-chapter flying menace Daryun but this little thing was nice to spot.

Guiscard being indecisive. I don't blame him, he took the treasure with great pains, his provisions already got burned once.

Very good Guiscard face, LOL.

Hello, son-in-law— *silenced*

Gieve and matters of faith. He hates the Lusitanians, and would use any word to hit them the hardest. And he must hate the hypocrisy too, the same way he hates the hypocrisy of Pars' ruling class. I like to think he has a romantic heart, but got disillusioned with the world due to... well, it's not exactly hard to be disillusioned with Pars' society the way it is.

It was Arslan in the end, who started to revive that small buried part of Gieve.

He questioned the validity of what the Lusitanians were doing while Baudouin fully endorsed it— and the latter died first. His narrative karma caught up to him, as I like to see it. (I think @innerchorus had a similar train of thought but w Kubard and Shapur?) Montferrat did question it but... he also kept upholding it.

For what it's worth though, the battlefield wasn't a complete wasteland, and he at least got to die with a smile on his face and with a tiny flower persevering despite it all as his last sight.

You did loot Parsian treasures the first time around during the chaos, you jackass.

#arslan senki reread #arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #montferrat #jimsa #etoile #estelle #daryun #guiscard #merlaine #merlain #merlane #gieve

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findingtruenorth23 · 8 months

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Even More HL Headcanons

I’m back with Part 3! You can find Part 1 and Part 2 if you are curious!

Sebastian and Anne were born October 31, 1874. If anyone has met an October Scorpio, you know why I say this.

Ominis was born January 11, 1875. I relate to him very much as a January Capricorn, myself.

Ominis’ only happy memories were made with his Aunt Noctua, who never had children of her own, and treated him like a son.

Noctua Gaunt was a twin. They are fairly prevalent in the wizarding world, and we know she was most likely a sister. Having a “favorite” aunt implies you have more than one, after all.

Speaking of Noctua, that name was once a constellation. We all know which family was famous for naming their children after stars and constellations—the Blacks. I can go into great detail about why I think Ominis’ grandmother was from the Black family.

Ominis’ mother is a Malfoy. This would explain the hair and the eyes, and though the Malfoys aren’t specifically cited as interbreeding with cousins, a marriage between a Malfoy and a Gaunt would have been lucrative for both families. Once again, I could discuss this theory at length.

Sebastian and Anne’s mother was especially fond of Muggle literature, so he has an extensive library of both magical and Muggle works in the Sallow family home.

Both of their parents were fascinated with Muggles, in general. They always wanted to learn about all their culture and new inventions. Sadly, a gas lamp, a Muggle invention, they used in the cellar library ended up ending their lives through carbon monoxide poisoning (this is pretty much canon, but I wanted to fill in the blanks of why it may have happened).

Ominis’ Patronus is a bat - Bats have a keen sense of intuition and precision, finding a way to see by means of echolocation despite their poor eyesight. They are often misunderstood and even feared, but develop small social circles that value their honesty and empathy. They represent the perception of things that others cannot see.

Sebastian’s Patronus is a falcon - Falcons represent a troubled soul with a dark nature who has chosen to stay in the light. They tend to symbolize freedom, intuition, bravery, a keen eye for detail.

I don’t see either of the boys becoming Animagi, but Sebastian might consider it “for science” because he’s a nerd and loves the idea of being able to sneak around in animal form. Since the form you take and your Patronus tend to go hand in hand, I’d imagine a falcon would make sense but Patronuses can change so maybe not.

BONUS reference to Darkness and Light fics! Eleanor’s Patronus is a raven - Ravens are mysterious and intelligent birds and are representative of someone with quick wit and a fiery passion who prefer to keep to themselves. They symbolize insight, transformation, intelligence, and good fortune. It’s worth noting that ravens are most commonly associated with Slytherins and not Gryffindors like Eleanor.

#hogwarts legacy #wizarding world #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #patronus #headcanon

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mintacle · 1 year

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I really think Jason and Damian should get some good bonding time in. Because Jason knows a lot about being young and being blamed for being wrong in whatever way. For Jason it’s the victim-blaming and character assassination after his death, for Damian it’s a different kind of victim-blaming, failing to acknowledge his youth and the tragedy of his life so far and blaming him alone for the way he is without putting his “acting out” in context of two unloving parents and absolutely no freedom of self-determination in his life.

I want to see Jason and Damian bonding as Jason being able to offer guidance and understanding to Damian as someone who is older and has been through much of the same or similar things. I want to see them bond for the sake of Jason to get to confront his younger self by proxy of Damian and have this conversation he wishes he could have with himself. I desperately want Jason to care for the current Robin. I desperately want them to both fight and bond over Bruce. The sheer anger of Damian that Bruce treated Jason like a true son, both of their loss that Bruce is not much of a father at all now to either. The ostrasizetion both still experience from the family. The way they’re both labelled as angry, irrational, impulsive.

I just think a less critical adult figure is something that Damian actually really needs so he can get out of the strict black and white world view that the superhero/vigilante world often pushes. He needs someone who knows the pressure and what it means to be part of the Bats and someone who will see him as Damian in first line and not Damian al Ghul or Damian Wayne.

#yeah I know there's Dick #I just think Damian needs someone like Jason on top of that #plus Dick should adopt Damian actually #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #Damian al Ghul #batfamily #rambling #like ok. Dick's characterization in the nu52 aligns him way too closely with Bruce's thinking #the ideal version of Dick (pre nu-52) could do much of the same for Dami #but even THEN I still think he could profit of both of the oldest batbros #and he deserves that too #and it makes no sense to have Jason and Damian actually dislike one another!!#game recognizes game you know?

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alphabetboyluvr · 6 months

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hi Holly. I just want to appreciate u. u don’t have to reply but this is more just a message to you.

I think ur the best person I have a parasocial platonic relationship with. Not only do you write the best stories (my heart beats for BD) but you also are the best most good intentions, good morals, person.

I like that you constantly update us on your work, your thoughts, and other stuff. It’s like you’re the teacher who engages with her students and tells her kids “guys the marks will be released Friday”, doesn’t take a long time to mark, doesn’t bat around the bush, etc. You never alienate your readers which I feel like a lot of other authors do. I love how appreciative you are of ur readers and friends

Also thank you for posting about Palestine. This is what made me wanna write the message. Im currently typing through tears as I just watched a kid cry because he saw the bombing in Gaza. His trauma is already started and he’s just 3. Thank you thank you for being a good soul. A true girls girl. A true citizen who wants the best for her world. I value you a lot. I love that you’re another girl who has big boobs ( I have a H cup girl it’s fucking horrible but I love that I get to be appreciated through ur stories) , thank you for being so creative, thank you for just knocking it out of the park.

U deserve nothing but the best. Please keep your standards high because you are of the highest standard. I love u girl

honestly i could have cried reading this, what a gorgeous display of kindness 😭 thank you so much.

this is a long answer so I'll add a read more haha

I think (in a way) I also have sort of a parasocial relationship with you guys - I'm often shown such generous amounts of love and support and it's a dynamic that I don't really know how to describe. we might not know each other and yet you all see such a huge part of my personality that a lot of people don't. you hear of virgo boy and of the little trips I'm going on and all sorts of intricate details and yet if you were to see me in the street, you'd probably have no clue of who I am 🥲 sometimes I wonder (when I go to army events / bts places) if I'm talking with people who have read my fics but we collectively have no idea. its a strange little life to live, but one that I enjoy.

in regards to Palestine, and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, I'm deeply horrified by what we're witnessing and am devastated at my government (alongside other western nations) facilitating what's happening. if all I can do is spread awareness or write letter, then you best believe that is what I'll do.

I'm afforded with such kindness that it only feels right I should reciprocate that - I keep you guys updated because it keeps us all happy haha. I love doing teasers and getting that initial reaction from you guys, it's so much fun, honestly. while I write for myself, I'd be a total liar if I said I didn't care for other people's opinions. your input is important to me!!

I've friends in all corners of the world, of all faiths and diverse backgrounds, and the idea of any of them experiencing such horror for the simple fact of where they were born is unthinkable. the people suffering are daughters, sons, husbands, wives, siblings - they are people and they are loved and it is barbaric to see what is happening and not feel strongly about it, in my opinion.

we all deserve the right to safety, freedom and a comfortable living environment. i don't really think my views are that groundbreaking, but I'm glad to know many of you feel the same ♡♡

honestly the big titty agenda part made me laugh so much!! I've been wearing a posture corrector lately cause the girlies have just been a nightmare 🥲 and the titty worship in my stories??? comes from experience!!! you'll find someone who appreciates them, as well as appreciates you, I promise 😭

thank you so much for your message - honestly you've no idea how much it means. have the loveliest day!!!

mwah x

#ask

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comphetkoncass · 4 months

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bat royalty au where bruce wayne is the prince of gotham but is an antimonarchist seeking to set up representative government for his kingdom but knows there is too much corruption among the nobles for it to succeed yet. so he spends his time rooting out corruption and removing titles from corrupt nobles and deeding land back to the people. he is waiting for the moment it is safe, and when it is, gotham will become a representative democracy. to be clear, this at times sounds like he’s stalling, but he waits partly because his parents were killed by monarchists for ceding too much power away from the throne and breaking traditions etc. it threw the country into chaos for years, and he’s trying to keep war from breaking out.

he also micromanages his relationships to prevent having a “true heir” recognized by gotham nobility. but he cares about children too much not to adopt ones in need. so then when they get older he has to micromanage their relationships to avoid them having any relationship that could count as a political alliance that would give the wayne ‘bloodline’ too much power to monarchists who want to maintain the throne.

…which doesn’t seem to be so hard, until his eldest son falls in love with a princess. and his third son falls in love with the cousin of the lost prince of krypton. and when it turns out he has a blood heir, despite trying to take every precaution against one.

(notes: jason is killed in this one when bruce is on the verge of dissolving the monarchy. but it’s clear jason would just be the first of many deaths to follow; gotham nobility still is to corrupt and has too much power, and would truly start a war and force a tyrant onto the throne. the only way to keep gotham safe is for bruce to continue to lead it and continue the slow work of removing threats and boosting the people’s living conditions, education, and political rights)

(i’m also entertaining the idea of kory being an unknown princess serving as a maid in wayne manor for a time to look out for political information on the state of the world. she seeks refuge in gotham specifically for its anti monarchy sentiment, as her sister betrayed kory and their people and sold her into slavery. she escaped and fled to gotham to plan a rebellion and take back her people’s freedom. funny enough, bruce supported dickkory in this au when he thought kory wasn’t royalty because no one could claim royal blood in dick’s descendants if he married a maid. but alas she’s a princess. kory reassures him eventually that she wants her people to be liberated too, and would like them to have self-determination so they’re never at the mercy of a dictator or foreign powers, like her sister or the gordanians, ever again.)

yes this is all on one planet in like a 1700s-ish era. yes i just binge watched bridgerton. what about it.

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wincestbigbang · 1 year

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2022 Master Post

Title: Bat Boy: The Fic Author: cleighwrites Artist: outofnowhere82 Other Pairing: side John and Mary Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Summary: A Bat Boy is found in the nearby woods and is adopted into the family of town Veterinarian John Winchester, much to his chagrin. The family - wife Mary and son Sam - falls in love with him, and they name him "Dean." Dean learns what it means to be human after so many years of living on his own in a cave. However, the townsfolk are less inclined to take him in, and life is not made easy for the untraditional family. Truths come out in a fatal encounter, will Sam and Dean be left in peace to live their lives in the aftermath? Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Taste of Endogenous Morphine Author: Jenchantress_stories Artist: MidnightSilver Other Pairing: Dean / OFC (in a flashback) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Underage Masturbation, Self-harm, blood and injury, first time, anal sex, top Dean / bottom Sam Summary: Set between 15x19 and 15x20. Since their adolescent days, Sam and Dean desired each other in ways they shouldn’t. About 20 years later, the two of them finally found peace and freedom. They easily settle into an apple-pie life. At least, that is what it seems, but Sam can’t shake off his doubts. Is this the reality? Or maybe too good to be true? Pain used to be a good coping mechanism until it got out of control. After a near-fatal incident, Dean suggests that something else might do the trick… Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Avenging Angels Author: ncdover1285 Artist: alexiescherryslurpy Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: mentions of sex trafficking children, kidnapping of children, trafficking of minors, murder, serial killers, descriptions of kills, blood, turned on by blood, John Winchesters A+ parenting, torture, violence, first kiss because of violence, murder, first kiss, Sam is demisexual, inappropriate boner, Dean Winchester’s first time with a man, top Sam Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, public sex, frottage/grinding, bottoming from the top, Impala sex, car sex, Sex in the impala, oral sex, blow jobs, virgin Sam Winchester, supportive Bobby, multiple POV, wincest, incest, torture Summary: When their mother was killed, Sam and Dean were tossed around from motel room to motel room by their father. That was until they went to stay with a family friend who raised them as his own. One day, they get a call that their father has died too. The brothers set out to find the person who killed their parents, not knowing what that would lead to and the life they had in store. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Can We Go Bump in the Night? Author: SetsunaNoroi Artist: OutofNowhere82 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: None Summary: Sam, still reeling from being thrust back into the life as a hunter and his dad’s demise, is rethinking things. Mostly his inability to be honest with his loved ones like Jessica or his dad. Desperate not to repeat the same mistake, he decides to tell Dean how he really feels for him. Problem? Well, he really kind of sucks at the seducing thing, and he’s very awkward about it like he always has been. But it’s okay! Cause Sam has this! He’s got a plan and is determined to make it work, no matter what embarrassing moments he has to force himself to live through. Luckily, his most hated holiday is around the corner and will help… maybe. Okay, maybe Sam doesn’t have this. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: To Hell And Back Author: jdl71 Artist: amberdreams Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Demon Deals, Demons, Hurt Dean, Determined Sam, Rape, Rape Recovery, Angst, Pain and Suffering, Violence, Blood, Torture, Death, Major Character Death, Resurrection, Hurt and Comfort, Nightmares, Wincest, Incest, Sibling Incest, Top Sam, Bottom Dean, Spells, Hell, Hellhounds Summary: Dean makes a demon deal, sacrificing himself to save Sam. Determined, Sam will do anything to bring his brother back from Hell so they can be together. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Your Mirror is Black Author: KillerofHope Artist: Alexiescherryslurpy Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: older Sam/younger Dean, top Sam/bottom Dean, pre series, light bdsm, underage Summary: Often, Sam and Dean only have each other when John leaves them alone. They don’t think about their strange, also sexual, relationship that much as long it’s fun. That changes when Sam decides to go to college. Art: Tumblr | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Magic In My Bones Author: yohkobennington Artist: bluefire986 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: S2AU. Temporary Character death. Summary: Something keeps taking Dean, and Sam is at loss as to what and how to stop it. They soon discover things as aren't simple as they seem and secrets are revealed about them that turn their world upside down. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Lose This Number Author: lovetheirloves Artist: ncdover1285 Other Pairing: Temporary Offscreen Sam/Jess Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Season 2 (Special Children) Spoilers Summary: Fifteen years ago, in an act of unforgivable cowardice, Dean Winchester ran out on his brother Sam after their relationship turned sexual. He left behind the Impala, his amulet, and decade and a half of silence. Now, Dean wants to reconnect, but he’s not the only one looking for Sam. The yellow-eyed demon is still searching for his favorite “special child,” who now has a child of his own – a six-year-old daughter whose terrible headaches come with mysterious visions, just like her father’s. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Red Taste of You On My Tongue Author: runedgirl Artist: midnightsilvers Rating: NC-17 Warning: Show level violence, Dub con, Addiction Summary: Sam is determined to cure Dean of being a demon, but Dean has his own ideas of how to turn the tables on his brother. Art: Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: The Salt-Filled Skins of Ptolemaea Author: Maven Morozov Artist: BlindSwandive Other Pairing: minor Sam/Azazel Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Underage, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Blood Kink, Trans!Sam, some queerphobia & consensual misgendering, Gore, Cannibalism, Murder, discussions of periods & pregnancy, Dark!Wincest Summary: Sam has always felt like a freak in his body. As long as he can remember, his life has revolved around his brother–but as he begins to transition from a child to a teenager, he’s forced into a reckoning of his feelings for Dean, and a strange angel appearing in his dreams that calls itself Azazel. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: The Viking's Alpha Author: outofnowhere82 Artist: bluefire986 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Alpha!Dean, omega!Sam, Alternate Universe - Vikings, hurt!Dean, Knotting, Mates, playing fast and loose with viking lore, Mild Gore, Minor Violence Summary: Sam is an omega and military leader of the clan. Dean is an alpha and his second. Ever since Sam’s birthday, they have had a run of bad luck during raids (injuries, not any loot, death) and his warriors are saying that Freya is displeased that he hasn’t found love yet. He has, but it’s Dean and doesn’t want to confront his feelings. When Dean almost dies, Sam decides it’s time to mate and tell Dean of his decision. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: I Don't Smoke Author: distortionofself Artist: ncdover1285 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Vague implication of weecest, cigarette use, bottom Sam/top Dean Summary: After John's death, Dean blames himself, puts up walls, and barricades himself from love. Sam tears every single one down. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: It’s You and Me Forever Author: blackrose_17 Artist: emmatheslayer Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Mpreg, bottom Sam and top Dean Summary: Dean wasn't about to let Sam spend his entirety trapped in the cage with Lucifer if Sam goes then so does he and that changes everything because Heaven and Hell's plans never counted on the bond between them. Making Sam and Dean soulmates would undo all of Heaven and Hell's plans and puts Sam on the throne of Hell and Dean as his Knight. Art: Dream Width Story: Ao3

#wincest big bang #wincest big bang 2022 #master post #2022 master post

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wesavegotham · 2 years

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if you were a dc writer and had complete freedom to do whatever you wanted with Damian would you make damian leave robin's cloak but without destroying development so he becomes an independent hero without being a red hood 2.0?

The thing is, I know sooner or later DC will give Bruce another Robin even though it keeps getting harder and harder to find a character archetype that isn't yet part of the batfamily and they also already have enough problems explaining how Bruce raised all these sidekicks without being too old to be Batman. But before that day comes I want to see DC just letting Damian be Robin. Like Dick, Jason (at least for a few years) and Tim got to be. With Damian it feels like his role is never secure.

It started with him being Robin to Dick's Batman and of course that didn't last long. After one year DC demanded that they bring back Bruce and the only reason Damian got to stay on as Robin was probably because Grant Morrison had always planned to kill him off anyway. There were also a bunch of comics in which characters told Tim he's better and their Robin, despite Damian being the official Robin.

Then Grant Morrison killed Damian off and it looked like Snyder would replace Damian with Duke or Harper as Robin. DC did decide to bring Damian back in the end, but Snyder gave Bruce amnesia and Tomasi's Batman and Robin book had to end. They gave Damian the Robin: Son of Batman solo book, which is an excellent book, but it was shortlived because of DC Rebirth. DC Rebirth seemed pretty determined to keep Damian away from Batman by putting him in two awful Teen Titans teams while they put Tim back in the Robin suit, only slapping a second R on it. Tynion made it pretty clear that it was his goal to make Tim Robin again.

Teen Titans by Adam Glass had the explicit goal to kick Damian out of the mantle in the most dishonorable way and Bendis made Tim call himself just Robin again. Since then they gave Damian a Robin solo, but after only 17 issues they cancelled it (according to Williamson not because of sales) and gave Tim a Robin solo instead. Damian has also been excluded from batfamily events for ages.

Like...can we just get Damian being Robin without anyone trying to take it from him for a few years? Letting him actually build relationships with the batfamily? He barely has one with Bruce, his own father, and most of his interactions with Dick are "remember when I was Batman and you were my Robin" nostalgia bait. His relationships with the others were either erased by the New 52 reboot (Steph), barely developed (Tim, Jason) or were never fleshed out in the first place (Cass, Kate, Barbara, Duke).

So to answer your question, if I had complete freedom I wouldn't force Damian to take a new mantle yet. I would tell the writers to stop sabotaging him because of their nostalgia or desire to make money by being the creator of the next Robin.

Damian is still too young, DC has barely used his story potential and his relationships with the other bats (and the wider DC universe) are underdeveloped. If they kicked him out of the prestigious Robin mantle for good right now I fear that DC will never fix their mistakes. DC will put out a Batman and Robin ongoing, they won't put out a Batman and "insert Damian's new mantle here" comic. We also aren't in the 90s anymore when even a new character like Azrael could hold a solo title for over a 100 issues. I genuinly believe that kicking Damian out of the mantle would just end with him getting sidelined even more.

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