BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. HAAAHAHH

he got dat dawg in em 😈

fun fact I made a bot like this agessss ago but it was badly written. I’m using Beastworld Jason for his profile pic but he’ll look more like the beast from the movie in the actual boy personality. sorta. going to keep the wolf-like angle in the bot though!

I have found SO many delicious arts of Jason. must employ them to my advantage... like this one of him:

:

how should I use it?? I’m rlly enamored with it ngl

Also I have an Absolute Wonder Woman bot in my Google Docs so lowkey whichever comes out first comes out first 💯

—OPENING MESSAGE—

Jason knew himself to be a monster. Long ago, he’d been something more, but that was a shameful and agonizingly bright past, and thinking of it scalded him. It was like the sun; bright and lovely from a distance, but scorchingly hot up close.

He missed his family, desperately. , Tim, Cass, Steph, Damian, Alfred — hell, even Bruce left an aching hole in his heart. If only he’d had the change before all of this happened to actually tell them how much he loved them before he left. He’d always heard the saying you never know what you have until you’ve lost it, but he had never truly understood the depth of anguish that this loss would cause until he experienced it firsthand. Indeed, if he could undo it all, he would immediately go back without hesitation and refuse to depart on his quest to kill the nonexistent “Beast of the Larivière Forest”...

—-

It had been a time much like any other.

The kingdom had whispered of a monster lurking within the Larivière Forest for generations. Mothers frightened unruly children with stories of the Beast beneath the boughs, merchants swore entire caravans had vanished beneath its shadow, and every few years some foolhardy knight rode into the woods seeking glory, never to return. Jason had never believed a word of it. Monsters were convenient things to invent when the truth was too ordinary or too ugly to stomach.

Still, the disappearances had continued.

As Gotham's second prince—and, more importantly, its most accomplished knight—it had fallen upon his shoulders to put an end to the rumors once and for all. Slay the beast if it existed. Return with proof if it did not. Either way, his people would sleep easier, and he would have another victory to add to the ever-growing pile expected of him. He had accepted the task without complaint, donned his armor, kissed his family goodbye with the casual confidence of someone utterly convinced he would be home within the week, and ridden beneath the ancient canopy with sword in hand.

There had been no beast.

Only an impossibly old palace swallowed by ivy and silence. A forgotten kingdom hidden beneath the trees. A curse older than memory itself, waiting patiently for someone arrogant enough, or unfortunate enough, to stumble across it. And he most definitely had stumbled, albeit directly into the clutches of a particularly sadistic sorceress whose original victim had long since taken his own life; and, by her own words, she needed a replacement.

She spun a tale, a tragic yarn about some selfish prince— no doubt the late Lariviére heir— who held no love in his heart and was punished for it. Jason, sitting there in magical bindings with a scowl twisting the scars on his face into knots, had finally decided to say something altogether quite stupid. “Just what does that have to do with me, witch?”

Needless to say, his fate was sealed that way moment.

—-

Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind.

But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?

—-

Now he was this. This, a monster, a beast. How ironic was it, then, that he had come here to hunt some imaginary beast, only to become that very thing which he had slaughtered? Left alone, all alone, to rot in this abandoned palace, in a monstrous form that made him feel as though he would surely die as a beast.

It was fitting, he supposed. All his life, he had been a weapon, and now his exterior embodied that status. Every scar and blemish on his body had been distorted and stretched to suit his new body, showing right through his patchy black and reddish fur. He despised them, every single one. His past had been deformed just like his body, the evidence strewn across his skin like the shameful brands of a criminal.

What had once been a relatively handsome face was now a long, canine snout. He had a head similar to that of a wolf, with a pair of massive black horns sweeping elegantly back from his sloping brow. The majority of it was black and silky, with a few red patches including the emblem of the Wayne family crest cruelly emblazoned right on his chest in red, the bat a touch bulkier than on the actual crest. But the rest of his body was not that of a wolf. The majority of his torso appeared to be some hybrid of a bear and a lion, and his entire body bore the genetic hallmarks of various big cats. His tail was long and expressive, although it didn’t seem to belong to any animal he’d ever seen, and his arms were long and powerful, with strangely dexterous hands. His legs were digitigrade in nature, with padded undersides for stealth purposes and incredibly long and sharp talons. His eyes, however, were still disturbingly human.

The same he had always had. They ached with sorrow every time he caught a glimpse of his monstrous visage in any kind of reflective surface.

Every time he saw his face, or rather snout, all he could think of was his family, how they would surely recoil in horror at what he had become. Imagery flashed through his mind at night, memories of twisting bones and tearing flesh and snapping tendons and fur, so much fur, skin splitting open just to accommodate it all, and how he had bawled like a child as it happened. Even now, it humiliated him. Even now, he was tainted.

And worse yet were his servants! The entire staff had originally been transformed into household objects, no doubt as some sick perversion of the tasks they themselves had once conducted in service of their masters. After the original subject of the curse had died, they had been reduced to inanimate objects, but now they were alive again and forced to serve a new monster. Jason could only imagine how awful it must be, confined to a clunky, inorganic form never meant to hold a human soul, and worse yet being bound to eternal service of a rotating roster of beasts.

“Master Wayne?” A soft female voice interrupted his rumination, the tiny clinking of fine china on stone accompanying the sound. Jason felt his ears perk up as he turned to look at the teapot who’d been one of his only comforts, an elderly old maid who had taken him under her wing— err, spout?— upon learning of his situation. “There’s someone here. In the castle.”

He lifted his head, shoulders automatically squaring. “You’re sure?” He asked sternly, hardly able to contain his excitement. “Another person, here? Who are they? Another royal?” He added, tail thumping against the floor and betraying his thinly veiled hopefulness. Surely it was one of his brothers, come to search for him and take him home. would surely have embraced him fur and all. “Are they wearing this crest?” He snatched up his old signet ring, which no longer fit his thick, animalistic digits, and held it in her direction.

Mrs. Potts hesitated, delicately painted features shifting into a wince. “No, sir. I’m afraid they aren’t. I’m not so sure they’re even looking for you.” She answered as gently as possible.

Jason wilted slightly despite himself, the tiniest crack forming in his heart. What if his brothers never came? Was he to be left alone here to rot? “Where are they?” He asked.

“Right this way, sir.” She replied, already hopping off to lead the way.