ohoho you thought I was done with tweet threads? think again
more reimob
thinkin abt that one reimob fic where mob absorbs a lust curse and the only way for him to survive is to have sex w whoever he saw first (reigen), yknow, the fic which seems to be abandoned
it leaves off with reigen convincing himself its gonna be ok, mob will (probably) be ok, and the worst thing that will happen is mob hating him and reigen accepts that as a possibility bc hey, at least he'll live?
mob is laying on the floor, writhing, grabbing at his pajamas
desperate and fully consumed by heat and desire that he doesn't know how to satiate
reigen leans over him, brushes a hand through his bangs so he can get a good look at mob
he looks like agony, desperation overflowing from him
reigen tells mob "it's going to be okay, mob"
"you're going to be okay"
he's still convincing himself with the words
the "please don't hate me" goes unsaid
he reaches down to unbutton mobs shirt, revealing smooth, pale skin with hardly any hair still. he ignores the discomfort he feels, focusing on mobs safety
mob whines as reigen slides his fingers down his abdomen, lingering just above the waistband of mobs pants, and reigen wishes the sound didn't stir something in him, deep and locked away
he keeps his eyes on mobs face as he pulls down his pants and boxers, not daring to look between the boys legs
reigen whispers again, "it's going to be okay," mostly to himself this time
he's surprised when mob responds between huffs, "you... don't. have to... shishou,"
reigen just stares at him, amazed. mob is so kind, so considerate. he knows mob heard what would happen if he didn't. mob knows this is life or death.
he takes a deep breath, "I know, mob, but I'm going to," he pauses, "I can't lose you"
mob flushes even more, somehow, and reigen pushes away the knowledge that mob definitely has feelings for him, that's a topic for some other day, when mob isn't.
dying.
he mentally waves away the word
mob will be okay
he's going through with this
he draws a breath and reaches down to grab mobs erection, ignoring the sirens in his brain, and mob lets out a sharp moan, almost painful sounding
reigen cradles his face with his other hand, "is it too much?" he asks
mobs eyes are closed tight, hands gripping at the futon. he shakes his head, though, breath leveling as he works to calm himself down
reigen nods, begins to stroke him slowly, carefully
he desperately hopes that this will be enough, but deep down he knows it won't be
(and even deeper, a tiny part of him that he refuses to acknowledge doesn't want it to be)
he shushes and whispers soft placations to mob as he works him to orgasm, mobs unfiltered groans and moans of pain and pleasure unceasing until finally, mob comes. his whole body clenches tight, curling inward
for a moment, mob simply breathes rapidly, and reigen thinks it might have worked
but another long groan leaves mob, and reigen knows it wasn't enough
picky fuckin ghost, he thinks
he doesn't want to, but he calls "ekubo, are you here"
he appears moments afterward, "I don't really want to be"
reigen only acknowledges that by nodding, "can you. find something I can use for... lubricant?" the last word a struggle to get out
ekubo grimaces, but nods
reigen wipes the sweat from mobs forehead, repeating that "its going to be okay," and "I've got you,"
ekubo returns fairly quickly with a bottle of actual lube he found in the drawers of one of the hotel rooms, and reigen thanks him, "you can leave now. I'd prefer you do"
ekubo responds in kind, giving reigen a sympathetic look before disappearing
reigen looks down at mob, still not daring to let his eyes travel downward
he uncaps the lube, making a quick decision
he squeezes some onto his fingers, bringing them around his body to his own hole
he hasn't done this (any of this, really) in a very long time, now, so he should go slow
however, mob is again writhing in pain, so he works himself open quickly. just enough. mob isn't very big anyway
he closes his eyes as he draws one leg over to the other side of mobs body, straddling him
he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes
mob is staring up at him, expression still pained, but now with a front of awe in it
part of him is relieved that mob isn't disgusted by him
he reaches down to grab mobs erection again, this time to hold it in place against him
mob shudders
reigen shudders
he slowly lowers his hips, feeling mob breach him
mob moans again, and reigen wishes that the sound didnt ring down to his groin
reigen is soon seated in mobs lap, mobs hips twitching and bucking upward erratically, chasing the heat of reigens insides
reigen lets him, trying to move in tandem with mob
it feels good, part of reigen acknowledges
another part of him shoves that part away
mob doesnt last long, even though he just came
he spills inside reigen, crying out, tensing again
this time reigen notices a nearby light flicker off and back on again
right.
he lifts himself off of mob, settling to one side again
he watches as mob calms, hoping desperately that this was it, this was enough
but sure enough, after a few moments of harsh breathing, mob whines again, clutching at his abdomen for something reigen definitely wanted to avoid
reigen sighs, drawing up the will for this
he's already done so much, but this. this he feels is different, somehow
worse
this is what would make him the monster he keeps telling himself he isn't already
the tiny part of him he doesn't want to acknowledge supplies "mob wants you, wants this" as if reigen had any inclination that the latter was true
he waved those thoughts away, focusing on the "mob will only be safe if this happens" part
he let out a long breath, grabbing again for the lube
the sound of the cap opening caused another sharp gasp from mob, who evidently knew what it meant
"it's going to be okay, mob" he repeated as he drew his slick fingers toward mobs ass, using his other hand to gently usher mob to spread his legs
mob obliged, though tense, and reigen finally failed to avoid looking down at his groin, getting a full view of mobs spread legs, his bare thighs, and, regrettably, his dick
he slowly brought his fingers to mobs ass, rubbing the muscle in small circles
mob started letting out a stream of small moans, only increasing in volume as he gently pressed his first finger in, slowly until it was all the way inside
he felt himself hardening at the sounds and the feeling of mobs insides
he gently thrusted the finger in and out of mob, until he was relaxed enough for him to add another
mobs voice only grew louder, more desperate as reigen continued carefully working mob open
reigen knew that he was objectively not particularly well endowed, but compared to mob, he definitely felt larger than usual, so he was extra diligent with this
mob was growing more desperate, though, and the words "please," "shishou," and, "inside," worked their way into his moaning
the last word in particular doing horrible things to reigens self control
he pulled his fingers free from mob, who whined from the loss of stimulation, and reached for his own dick, stroking himself until he was fully hard
the sirens in his brain grew louder, faster as he shuffled into position between mobs legs
"this should be it, mob, you'll feel better soon" he cooed at mob, cradling his face with his free hand, surprised to find tears along mobs cheeks
"mob? are you okay?" he asked, wondering if he'd gone too far
mob could hardly form words at this point, "need... shishou... hurts" were the only words reigen managed to hear
"should I stop?" reigen asked, even though he was fairly certain of the answer
mob shook his head quickly, "nnNo... please... please... inside," mob whined
reigen leaned down to press his lips to mobs temple, "okay... okay. you're gonna be okay. I'm gonna make you feel better, now"
mob groaned as reigen pressed his dick to mobs ass
"try to relax," reigen whispered as he pushed forward, sliding slowly inside of mob
it felt so fucking good, the press of mobs insides against him, the warmth radiating from him. he couldn't hold back a moan at the sensation
it really had been a long while
similarly, mob's stream of noises grew louder still, moans becoming more drawn out, more pleasured than pained
reigen pushed inside until his hips were pressed against mob, letting out another unrestrained moan
reigen gave mob a moment to adjust to him, before slowly drawing his hips back out and pressing forward again
a stream of "ohhh"s left mob at the sensation, and finally, finally mob was starting to feel the tension leaving his body
"m... more" he groaned, the word igniting the part of reigen he so desperately wanted to ignore, causing him to pull out and back in again, faster this time
he began thrusting into mob, rotating his hips in small circles as his body took over for him, reason and guilt leaving in favor of chasing the tight grip of mobs ass, the sounds he was drawing from the boy
"sh.. shishou, shishou... more" mob cried out, desperate for more stimulation
reigen obliged, speeding up, drawing further out of mob before slamming back into him, wet smacking sounds joining the streams of moans
reigen reached underneath mobs ass, lifting him slightly for a better angle, better leverage, causing a loud cry from mob
mobs hands eventually found their way to reigens back, fingernails drawing hidden red stripes along reigens clothed back, drawing the man closer to him,
"reigen... shishou... I need..." mob cut off, not really knowing what he needed
but reigen knew
reigen drew one hand back to mobs front, grabbing his dick and beginning to stroke it in time with his thrusts
mobs back arched off the bed with a loud moan, furniture clattering around them as mob started losing control, reigen unbothered by the prospect
he was focused on chasing the good feelings right now
"mob... oh, mob" he moaned, restraint leaving him, "you feel so good inside" he was starting to lose his rhythm, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased their collective orgasms
mob groaned, "shishou, too... feels good. so good, reigen,"
mob was first, overcome with pleasure, coming again, small amounts of liquid squirting onto his stomach
reigen didn't last too much longer, not with mob clenching so tight around him. he pulled out as soon as he could, not wanting to spill inside of mob
reigen collapsed, angling himself to fall beside mob
both of them trying to catch their breath, reigen impatiently waiting for any sign that mob would be okay now
when, finally, mob moaned quietly, and reigen momentarily feared the worst, but mob was starting to breathe more evenly, stopped shaking, stopped tensing, and it was clear that it was finally done
mob was finally going to be okay
reigen felt relief wash over him, temporarily outweighing the guilt creeping back in
"oh thank god," he whispered, pulling mob into a hug, "I'm so sorry, mob, I'm-"
a snore interrupted him. mob was fast asleep
that made sense, reigen supposed, considering what mob had just endured
he could feel sleep pulling him in as well, and he figured he could properly apologize after sleeping
they slept there, still tangled in each other, uncertainty and anxieties temporarily forgotten
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Family Dinners - dpxdc
"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.
The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.
"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.
"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.
"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."
Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.
Ancients, that's so weird!
The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.
Wait. Family dinners?
He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.
"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.
"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.
From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.
"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"
"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"
"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."
"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."
The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.
Come on, Danny, recover!
"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."
"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?
"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."
"Costume? What do you mean?"
Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.
"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!
"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.
"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.
His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.
"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.
Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"
"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"
"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."
"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.
It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.
It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.
Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.
"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."
Once again, the whole table falls into silence.
"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"
"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"
"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."
Danny's grin freezes in place.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."
"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"
Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.
"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.
"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."
An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.
"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."
"What did happen?"
"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."
"How long in the future was it?"
"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.
Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"
"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."
"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."
"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"
"What?"
"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."
Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.
"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.
"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."
"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"
"Damian, stop—"
"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."
"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."
"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.
"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."
"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."
"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."
"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."
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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au
this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--
his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!
So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.
Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.
Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.
And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.
Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.
Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.
He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?
Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.
Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.
They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.
Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.
He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.
His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.
Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.
It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.
He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.
Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.
He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.
He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.
Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.
It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.
"I've become my grandfather."
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blue collar simon x gn! reader. implied cnc.
Simon finds a journal on his lunch break.
It's inconspicuous. A5 black moleskin with an elastic holding it's contents together, bits of paper sticking out like nails on a poorly constructed house frame. He only notices it because his cooler slips off the bench when he blindly places it atop the fat book, sandwiches and packets of crisps now strewn across the dirty pedway.
The day's already been shit. A motley of blows, each made worse by the torrid sun overhead, sweat to cling to his grievances. An uptight site manager. A near loss of life after some tenderfoot got caught in between an excavation truck and the wall. Even his too-long hair, which curls around red ears – having not had a chance to buzz it off since being called in for this job. It's no wonder, then, that the tiny mishap stirs as severe of a reaction as it does; he chucks his hard hat across the road, satisfied only when it finds its fate mid-lane, an obstruction to inevitably fuck the tires on a white collar's new car.
When his rage settles as smouldering ash in his chest, he picks his food off the floor and cracks open the source of his animosity.
With no name or number, the first page holds just a chicken-scratch address. Interesting. Its owner hasn't made this easy on him, crafting it like one would a game. A skewing of traditional acquaintance. Granting nothing of their superficial identity, yet unrestricted access to their innermost thoughts. Thus he's forced to paint his own picture of the figure behind the words.
And what a picture indeed.
The first entry is brief.
13.02 – My therapist expects at least three pages a week. I'm not doing any of that, so don't get your hopes up.
It's evident that you don't stick to your guns. Though the next one is dated several months later, so he see's the attempt had been made. Written in a whole new hand, like you'd picked a dry pen off the floor and practiced your non-dominant grip:
08.05 – I broke my arm playing tennis. The umpire called a match-point in my opponent's favour and I threw the racket at his head.
I am no longer allowed to play tennis. What good is that resolution? My radius has a greenstick fracture. I'm already out of the game.
His laugh is abrasive and sudden, like it'd been pried from his chest by a pair of careless hands. Or as close to that analogy as it can get – your anger is intoxicating and only grows more potent across the pages. Inadvertently amusing. Simon chews through the tough crust of his torpedo roll as he reads, time wearing away under the stiff comb of your words.
There's hardly any variation in your cataloguing –
10.06 – The universe must need more bad people in it, because it tests my limits everyday. Can the fuck next door snore any louder? It's 2 am, goddammit. I wonder if it'd be overkill to ship nasal strips to his mailbox.
26.06 – Dad called today. Didn't pick up.
04.07 – I'm close to killing Kathleen. There's a reason the food in the fridge is labelled as MINE. GET YOUR GRUBBY PAWS OFF OF IT!
13.07 – The world is a shitty, stupid, crappy, icky, lousy, rotten, stinking, stinky, bad place. I hate my coworkers and friends and parents and landlord and etc etc. It's like everyone is out to get me.
– so it's like the honed curl of a hook. Whiplash-inducing, reeling his attention so quick that his neck strains in phantom pain. Simon stops everything, elbows settling onto his knees as he fixates on one entry in particular.
30.07 – I stand by what I said. The world is uniquely horrible. I think that's because I make it that way for myself. Whatever this exercise was meant to do for me, rage relief or introspection or whatever, it's clearly not working. I'm just as angry as I was before. Maybe burning these pages would help. I wish I could play tennis again. I don't know what to do with my hands anymore. I got fired last week. Need groceries. Eggs, spinach. Spinach always goes bad and I never make use of it. I keep buying it though. Dad keeps calling. I've got a migraine and I've run out of advil.
I just need someone to put me in my place.
And it ends there. No more entries after the fact, just a handful of blank pages before the journal wraps to a close.
He flips back over to the address at front. Looking at it a second time, he can tell the ink is still fresh.
Perhaps he misinterprets it. Perhaps it hits a little too close to home. It wouldn’t be the first time he looks for salvation in the empty lines someone leaves behind. Perhaps it’s just been a bad day, and he should go home before he does something he’ll regret. Perhaps it’s nothing at all.
Or–
Perhaps he sees it for what it is.
Here are all my colours. What you choose to do, or think, is no longer my concern.
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