#did i make this so i could have an excuse to stare at these panels for a really long time?

[roseworth]

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you. That whenever you're ready... you can come home."

The Harpers in Green Arrow #1 💘

[dxxdhood]

the manor

pairing: 1920s!dick grayson x fem!bartender!reader

summary: while working at a hidden bar during the prohibition, you meet a handsome stranger who invites you to a party. little did you know, you just enchanted dick grayson, one of richest men in gotham.

tags: 1920s au, smut (18+), oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, teasing, p in v, angst, fluff

wc: 4.1k

It's so cramped, trying to fit in dozens of chairs in the glorified excuse for a room, but you love the place. Laughing heard in every direction, the strong smell of your drinks, and the fumbled clinking of glasses by every patron– the speakeasy has it all. Sure, the constant threat of having the wrong person walk in and decide to report the place still manages to make you twitch on occasion, but for the most part, you don’t let it throw you off your game. Instead, you let yourself take in the fading lamps all around you, dimly lighting up the faces of regulars or reflecting into the glossy wood paneling. 

“Hey, doll. You wouldn’t mind pouring me another old fashioned, would you?”

And just like that, you get taken out of it. You fix the man his drink unenthusiastically, and as he attempts to chat you up, you try your best to tune it out. Although it’s difficult to give enough of a response to placate him while also clearing hinting you’re uninterested, you make a valiant effort. He leaves with a grumble to join his friends at an overflowing table in the back.

You’re about to wipe down the counter again as an excuse to stay occupied when you spot him. A man, well put-together but not obnoxiously so. His hair is slightly long, falling effortlessly across his forehead and curving around his cheeks to frame his face. His suit is nice – nicer than most of what the regulars wear – but not overindulgently. It was more odd that he showed up in a suit at all, seeing as this bar was a more casual affair. And, though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, he was very handsome. Just the small amount of his face you’re able to see through the dim has you interested.

Luckily, he walks straight to you, sitting at a stool right in the middle of the counter. You attempt to give him a moment or so of silence, because he could definitely be meeting someone here tonight, but you can’t resist.

“Evening,” you say. “Haven’t seen you around here before, sir.”

“Just found out about this place. I can’t believe I didn’t know it was here this entire time,” he turns his gaze towards you. “It’s warm. Lively.”

His eyes are a gorgeous blue, but you try to avoid staring at him too intensely. “Well, the good people here know how to keep a secret when they need to.”

He chuckles, “I hear that. Any drinks I should try now that I’m here?”

And he’s magnetic, drawing groups from across the bar towards him, chatting him up so they can understand who the attractive stranger is. He’s so freely charismatic, engaging people he’s barely met in conversation– even involving you when you’re not too busy keeping all your orders straight. Unexpectedly, he’s confident without being arrogant, but also self-effacing without being self-deprecating. It’s an impressive balancing act, and he pulls it off without breaking a sweat.

You try not to get your hopes up past that first interaction, knowing that he’s far too invested in other people right now to pay any attention to the bartender of all people, but for some reason, he keeps peering back at you. Every laugh that rips through him and has him banging on the table, but at the end of his reaction, he looks back at you to see if you found the joke funny, too. It’s endearing, how he’s so attuned to everyone – even your – emotions, and you’d like to give more than short, snappy responses, but you’re swamped with drink requests as the night goes on. He ends up slipping away from you minute by minute even though he’s right in your line of sight.

Before you realize it, it's the early hours of the morning and almost everyone is shuffling out of the bar– if not because they finally have to, because they don’t want to worry their wives even more. The man, Dick, as you heard others calling out that evening, is still sitting at the counter in the very same spot. You try not to let your brain get ahead of itself, but still, him being out at this hour means he likely doesn’t have a wife to worry. You shake your head, chiding yourself for still being so taken with him. The night is over, he may leave and never come again.

He’s not speaking now, which is a shame because his voice is like velvet. He’s clearly had quite a few drinks tonight, so you place a glass of water in front of him as you begin wiping down tables to close the place.

His eyes widen as you leave him the water, and instead of drinking it or ignoring it, he keeps staring through the glass, foggy with condensation. He almost looks puzzled, but you can’t figure out why.

“Why did you give me this?” he chokes.

You immediately assume you’ve made a mistake, so you move quickly to cover yourself. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. You just had a lot tonight, your head will be killing you in the morning.”

Dick is still silent. The entire room feels too large for the both of you and it’s making you antsy.

“You haven’t left yet, and it’s awfully late, so I’m not sure that anyone will be giving you a ride. If you’ll be walking home, it’d be good to get some water in you,” you continue. “So you won’t, ah, vomit before you manage to make it back to wherever you’re staying.”

You turn to face him from where you’re wiping down a chair and catch him staring. His gaze is intense, like he’s trying to read you and telegraph emotions all at once, and you’re not awake enough to compose a worthy response. He picks up the glass of water after a beat, seemingly content with whatever he found or didn’t find, and drinks it while looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

His brows are the same jet-black as his tousled hair, and having their full attention turned on you makes you unable to turn away. Your breath catches in your throat as you see a drop of water run from his lips, gently curving down his neck and soaking into his pristine shirt. You turn away, embarrassed to watch the muscles of his throat contract as he swallows, but you hear him speak clearly.

“This Sunday, after your shift, I’ll send for you,” he says. “I’m having a party at my place. Please, I want you there.”

You nod, probably mumbling an affirmative as well, too flustered to really comprehend what he just asked. Well, less asked– more demanded. You finish up cleaning the speakeasy in a daze, and find yourself counting down hours in the following days until Sunday night finally comes. 

.

You swear Dick told you he would pick you up, but the motorist who claims he was sent by “Master Dick” is obviously not him. The older gentleman is very polite, still, and you’re hesitant to ask too many questions in fear of sounding rude. The car itself is a sleek black, with a paint job like new. That, coupled with the fact that Dick apparently has a butler is already causing you to put some of the pieces together, but even from as much as you’ve gathered, you couldn’t have imagined he was rich enough to own his own manor.

The amount of wealth hoarded in the place is apparent. From the moment you reach the grounds, you see vibrant, perfectly kept lawns transforming into a luscious garden. There are so many flowers that you can't pick out their colors individually, they all blur into one from your bumpy car ride. There are mountains on property surrounding the main house itself, and you can’t tell whether that waterfall you spotted was real or a trick of the waning moonlight.

The kind butler lets you in through the front entrance and you thank him. Gasping at the sight, your body nearly jolts backwards. The place is filled to the brim with people. Even when compared to your speakeasy, the entire foyer of the manor is proportionately more crowded. Everywhere you look, people obscure your view, all wearing dazzling outfits in pearly, silver, or dark colors. You have the self-awareness to feel underdressed, but you push past it as you attempt to wrangle your way through the crowd.

The music is loud, whatever brass instruments are playing must be rooms away, but you can still hear them clearly from your place in the arching, large first room. Everything is so invasive, you aren’t able to hear your own breathing, footsteps, heart rate, or thoughts. It’s starting to make you dizzy. You nearly bump into guests holding champagne flutes multiple times, and you shiver at the thought of having to pay for the cost of cleaning their luxury outfits, but you manage to get out of the room and into one of the hallways of the building.

You want to cry in relief, but even though the hallway is sparser than the foyer, there are still plenty of people around. There are women wrapped in furs and men wearing suit jackets crisp enough they look freshly made. They can clearly see you don’t have an outfit a fraction as impressive as they do. What happens when they find out you’re a poor, unassuming bartender?

Speedwalking through the hallway and ignoring the generations of family portraits lining the walls, you find yourself blasted in the face with nothing but noise. The aggressive sounds of people dancing along to the band, heels clacking on the ballroom floor shakes you to your core, and you truly believe you’re going to turn around and leave right then until you spot him. He’s on the dancefloor, switching partners just about every measure, his wavy hair drenched in sweat but he couldn’t care less. Dick continues dancing wholeheartedly, stomping along and swinging ladies in opera gloves around. You should leave.

But of course, at that exact moment, he catches your eyes staring at him from the doorway. He mouths a word, something resembling your name, but you run without looking back. These rich people stare at you like you’re a wild animal, but you can’t care. The buzzing air of the place is starting to rot you from the inside. You need out of this manor now.

“Wait, please!” you hear a familiar voice cry out, and a moment later, a hand is wrapped around your arm.

“Let me go!” you shout, attempting to rip yourself from Dick’s grasp. He’s even prettier up close, wearing a tailored suit that hugs his broad shoulders. His hair must have been gelled back at some point, but it’s since come undone, and it’s working for him. By god, it’s working for him.

“Listen to me, I’m sorry,” he shouts, and he says something else after that, but you can’t make it out over the music and talking.

“What?” is all you can manage to respond with.

He shakes his head before changing his grip from your arm to your hand. He begins leading you somewhere without telling you, trusting you to follow him despite not giving you any reason to. You’re tempted to leave, but his palm is so warm, you find yourself going along.

Walking through a couple of sparsely populated rooms and a flight of stairs, you arrive at a balcony. It’s beautiful, carved out of sleek, white stone with planters of flowers overflowing and growing down the sides of the railing. Speechless, you run your hand along the vines and allow Dick to talk.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I should’ve told you… I know I should have, I just…”

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask, flicking your head to glare at him. “You have so, so, so many people here tonight. You could’ve chosen any one of them to toy with.”

You shake your head as you pinch your brow, “You didn’t need me.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you look up. Surprisingly, he looks hurt even though he doesn’t have any reason to be, like he’s decided to take on the loneliness you’ve been feeling this entire night as his responsibility– which to be fair, it is. Reaching for your hand, he encloses it in both of his.

“Is that what you think? That you’re here so I can fuck around with you?” he whispers it, but you can still pick up on the anger beneath his words. Although, it doesn’t sound like it’s directed at you. “You’re so kind, so genuine. You didn’t know me – still don’t – and you still gave a shit about me. Like a real, honest amount of care, not the airs the rest of these suits put on to impress me and get on my dad’s good side.”

“And I’m not sure why I did it, inviting you here. I was so drunk at the time, and all I could think was that I wanted to see you again. You were right, by the way” he gives a hollow laugh. “The next morning, my head hurt like hell. I couldn’t remember if I actually invited you or if I imagined it. I’m sure whatever bumbling explanation I gave Alfred must have been painful to hear, but he still agreed to wait outside your work– I need to thank him again. Anyway, anyway, I really shouldn’t have done this. You probably feel so terrible, this must have been so awful to go through. God, you deserve so much better.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and he kisses your knuckles, eyes still facing the balcony floor. “I hurt you. I can’t convey how sorry I am.”

In the light of the moon, with only the muffled sound of jazz to fill your mind, you step closer to him. He’s quivering as he watches you, as if you stand any threat to him. You keep closing the distance between the two of you until there’s only a few centimeters left. You’re so close you can hear his shallow inhales and exhales. 

“You can make it up to me,” you breathe, landing your lips on his, kissing him lightly. He doesn’t reciprocate at first, and though your eyes are closed, you assume he’s uncomfortable, so you start to pull away. After another moment, he leans into the kiss and wraps an arm around your waist, rubbing his thumb up and down your spine. 

He sighs, bringing up a hand to cup your cheek. You curl your arms around his shoulders, hooking them around his neck for support. His tongue explores your mouth, and you gasp into him. But he only uses the opening to his advantage, placing his hand on the back of your head and pulling you into the kiss. You feel all the air sucked straight out of your lungs, but you keep yourself attached to him until you reluctantly pull away to breathe again.

Dick moves his head back, getting a better view of your face and your rising chest. “I have an idea,” he says with a crooked smile.

“Oh, yeah?” you lick your lips, not missing how he zeros in on your tongue.

“Follow me,” and without any further explanation, you see him jump the balcony’s railing. 

“Dick!” you shout, running over to the side and trying to adjust your eyes to the dark. 

He’s alright, waving at you from the ground next to the rose bushes. “Come on! The jump looks worse than it actually is.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff, taking in the wide expanse of land that Dick’s family owns as a part of the manor. “What, haven’t you been riding horses your whole life?”

“How’d you know,” he quips with a smirk. “I was always a greater fan of gymnastics, though.”

“Great, that leaves hope for me.”

He gives a small chuckle, “Come on! Just try the jump. I’ll catch you, I promise.”

Shaking your head, you place both hands on the cold railing and engage your arm muscles. With a deep breath, you push off and for a chilling second, you feel yourself travel through the air before your feet eventually hit the ground. Dick’s there, as promised, holding you at the small of your back and wrapping an arm around your front to prevent you from falling over.

His head is resting next to your shoulder, and you can hear the breathiness in his voice as he whispers in your ear, “See, wasn't so bad.”

You nod, trying to disguise the wave of desire that runs through you. He seems to have himself under control, dashingly grabbing your hand and racing across the garden path. You can barely make out the twists and turns he’s taking as he leads you from the sparse topiaries and seating areas into the thicket of bushes. The further you both run, the more you struggle to catch your breath, but you still manage to take in the gorgeous flowers around you highlighted in the moonlight.

“I’ve never been anywhere this beautiful,” you say.

You glance back at him and find he was watching you while you were enamored with the scenery. You attempt to turn your head to the side in self-consciousness, but he brings a hand up to gently tilt your head to face him. His blue eyes pierce you, and you know even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to break away from his gaze.

He kisses you again, and it feels like he’s trying to swallow you completely. Gripping onto your hips, he attempts to loosen his hands after a second, but you cover his hands with your own and keep him holding on. The action has him moaning into the kiss, and he pulls away from your face ever so slightly, lips still parted, to work down your neck.

You can feel his sweet kisses turn to nips quickly, and you bring up a hand to try and stifle the noises you let out, but he removes it from your mouth. Instead, your hands interlock as he leaves a bruise on your neck. He licks at it dutifully, but he quickly moves lower, nipping at your collarbone and mouthing at as much of the smooth expanse of your chest as he can reach from your outfit.

He thumbs at a peaking nipple through your clothes, and you whimper, rooting a hand in his hair to keep yourself from falling over. Dick lets out a curse, and he moves to rid you of your top, hands resting on the closure before he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod desperately, tugging at the back of his jacket to get him to hurry up, and he lets out a deep chuckle. He wastes no time leaving you just in your bra and bottoms, and he reaches a hand to cup a breast through the fabric. He exhales through his nose, groaning as he pushes the soft skin out from the cup and brings his head to your chest, licking at your newly freed nipple.

He continues to play with your chest, biting at it and teasing you until both of your buds are hardened, and it makes you struggle to keep your breathing even. You can feel heat coarse through your entire body despite the cool night air surrounding you on all sides, and you want – need – more. 

“Dick,” you whisper, scratching at his back through his clothing. He peers up at you, meeting your gaze through his thick eyelashes and he seems to understand instantly. He peels off his jacket, leaving him only in his white button up, and he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows as he brings a hand down to cup your thigh. 

“Oh my god, please!” you call out as his thumb rubs against the inside of your thighs. His tongue is still at work playing with your chest, but he brings his hand up to rub against your slit, the slick soaking your panties.

“Fuck, already?” he says, dropping to his knees in front of you. Your eyes go wide, and your body heats up like you’ve been struck with a fever. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

He peels your panties down, pooling them at your ankles, and grips your hips as he brings his face to your core. Slowly, he runs his nose against your opening, teasing you so close to where you need him. Your breath catches in your throat as he licks your folds, finally reaching inside your heat. Your toes curl, and you plant both of your hands in his hair as his tongue graces your clit, swirling lightly.

He works gracefully, quick to give you pleasure but never too much of it. Whenever your moans become too loud, he moves from stimulating your clit to dipping into opening, or occasionally licking at your thighs. The coil inside you keeps growing tighter, and you have no idea how you’ve managed to stay upright for this long. His tongue makes you feel like you’re floating, like you could stay here your entire life and be perfectly content. You find yourself scratching at his scalp, and you can hear the vibrations of his moan on your clit as he laps at you.

That slight stimulation is so near to what you need, “I’m close.”

He stops without warning and you want to curse him for leaving you. He stands up without wasting any time, and he unzips himself from his tailored pants. You watch in awe as he gives himself a few strokes before pulling you closer to him, getting your permission before sliding into your folds.

He picks you up with a start, gripping at your thighs and allowing your ankles to interlock at his back. Your gasps turn into a guttural groan, and he kisses you roughly to stop yourselves from being heard. He works himself deeper inside you, patiently allowing himself to bottom out as your walls urge him on. Once he’s finally sheathed, he gives a small thrust and it has you shivering, wanting so much more.

He gives into your demands, setting a quick pace while kissing you, swallowing up every sound you make and keeping them from himself. He’s steady with his thrusts, trying to pace himself and keep himself on hold for you, but you snake your hand to wrap at the base of his neck. Without a warning, you pull at the strands there and he grunts into your mouth. Biting at your lip, he tightens his grip on your hips as pumps inside you faster.

“Holy shit, you’re so tight,” he gasps. “So warm, I could – fuck – I could stay inside you and never leave.” You scratch at his neck, wanting more from him to finally quell the heat that keeps burning inside you.

“Dick, I need–” you start, but are unable to finish, so distracted in your daze of pleasure.

“Yeah, darling? Tell me what you need.”

You shake your head, too far gone by this point to articulate anything, but Dick seems to understand, anyway. He moves a hand down to your clit, and begins rubbing precise circles on it, finally meeting you where you need him most. You feel your walls clench around him, swallowing him further inside and hitting you where you’re most sensitive. 

You open your mouth to warn him, but the words turn into a breathy moan as you cum around cock. Your climax rips through you, and every nerve lights on fire as you hear Dick briefly warn you before falling over the edge, too. Both of you lazily rut against each other, working through your joined orgasm together. 

When the world finally comes back into view, you feel so ready to faint, but Dick holds your shoulders and allows you to rest on him as he lays on the grass. The chill of the night air is finally reaching past your skin, and he throws his suit jacket on top of you. Both of you stay outside in the garden, watching the moon and the stars shine on you as the night slips by.

[bobosbillionsknives]

i agree with a lot of your points about knives, i do also think he is aroace of some kind (demi imo), but the way he ignores bodily autonomy wasn't a theme that was new to stampede. the way he consumes other plants and forced vash to use his angel arm are examples of it, though less explicitly 'sexual'. either way, his actions weren't born out of sexual attraction, he simply thinks that all plants are an extension of himself and he can use their bodies as he pleases since its for a 'greater purpose'. he is not a predator but he isn't innocent either

Oh no no no no no no no I do NOT wanna give the impression that I am genuinely defending knives is ANY way. 😭

I completely agree with everything you're saying. He is inarguably abusive. Saying he's not would be a wild ass claim to make. 🙏 My only argument here is that it isn't specifically sexual, but I'll get more into that in a bit. 😝 I have SO MUCH to say abt this...so I'm gunna use this as an excuse to word vomit on y'all. Thank you for bringing this to me I am itching.CRAVING to talk about my favorite girls always. 🤗💖

INSANE ESSAY POSTING LETS GOO !!!

I think your point on Knives seeing the plants as an extension of himself is SPOT ON!!! He does the same thing with Vash too. He's doing it because hes so stuck up his own ass he seriously thinks there is no possible way he could ever be wrong, everyone else is just too blind or stupid to see it his way. That's why he does the whole "eternal suffering for Vash the Stampede" bit. He genuinely cannot comprehend that Vash just fundamentally disagrees with him. He thinks if Vash goes out and sees every horrible thing a human can be he'll finally give up the hippy dippy act and face this false reality Knives made up as a coping mechanism so he never has to actually face any of his problems. Cause stabbing all your problems away is waaaaay easier than actual growth or change. Top ten girls who are trapped by the horrors of their past 😂!

Knives has a blatant misunderstanding of people's worth outside of himself. He disregards the lives of others constantly, he literally murdered 20 mil+ and was genuinely confused when Vash was mad at him for it. He doesn't take anything seriously. He especially doesn’t take physical pain seriously, unless it’s happening to himself. [DID YOU ACTUALLY SHOOT ME!!?] He's said that he knows none of the crazies he sends after Vash can ever kill him. He thinks if they can't kill him, then none of the hurt Vash experiences during these fights really count. Its always a game to him. He knows Vash will be fine because he has faith in his ability to fight. (He's complimented his fighting skills several times lol.) Yet he’s consistently shocked and disgusted when he sees Vashes scars, like he didn’t play a role in that ??? He just never thought of it until it was literally staring him in the face.

HE THINKS EVERYTHINGS A DAMN GAME !!!!!

Knives never really wants to force Vash to agree with him either, he's literally waited decades for him to come around to his point. He's definitely lashed out violently before, and has disregarded his safety. But I don't think he actually even likes seeing Vash in pain 😭 (maybe a little in a Itoldyouso brother kinda way lol.) He's completely horrified when he sees his scars. This panel speaks absolute VOLUMES to me. He is angry that Vash would allow people to hurt him this much. (Bro is for sure a victim blamer 🥱 Vash OBVIOUSLY should've known humans are evil and would do this to him. 🙄 HIS FAULT !) Those scars solidify in his mind that his brother is reckless, and clearly doesn't know what's best for himself. That's why he feels the right to "save" him from humans. Knives out of anyone in the world knows how much Vash disregards his own life. He's angry that his own brother would choose the perceived violence of humanity instead of the safety he has worked SO hard to cultivate for over a hundred years. After everything they learned from their childhoods, Vash would have to be deaf and dumb to keep crawling back to them. (From his perspective anyway.)

Everything Knives does he thinks is to better Vashes life. That's what makes him such a tragic character to me. He genuinely believes he's in the right and doing everything he has to so him and his brother can feel that safety that was never guaranteed to them in childhood. He loves Vash, (PLATONICALLY !!!! 😰) He wants Vash to be happy. He just doesn't understand why, that despite everything, living alongside the humans is what makes him happy. Something he only accepts at the end of trimax when he literally trees himself to assumed death so Vash could have that. Knives is unambiguously in the wrong, but I do think his thought processes are sympathetic. WRONG. But like .I get it girl. Besides, he acts more like a toxic mother than anything. How DARE you be so ungrateful after everything I've ever done for you that you've never even asked for. ✋😒 and EXPLICITLY told me not to do. Ugh. 🙄 you don't even love me…guess im just a terrible brother than huh…🥀 BITCH SHUT UP !!!!

Now about the asexuality, not only...do I think Knives is aroace. I think he's completely sex REPULSED!!!!! Sex is a mark of human degeneracy, animals clinging for power over each other. Hed think hes above it !! It would disgust him, I don't think he's ever had a sexual thought in his life. He’s also a Jesus freak he'd think procreation in general is a sin 🙄‼️ik his interpretation of the bibles gotta be INSANE. Exploring sensuality is like a normal and healthy thing to do no fucking WAY Knives is self aware enough to do all that. If he could experience any kind of libido, his hatred of humans would never allow him to explore it anyway. Since sex is such a huge part of human culture. He probably thinks consensual sex is a myth humans made up to assault each other easier…😭

this is literally him bro I can't see him any other way...🚬 He's literally a pearl clutching mom who refuses to understand anyone else's experiences because he doesn't understand them.

I can't imagine him being able to feel romantic love either...I actually think it would be pretty out of character ngl. Plus I think it could be an interesting element of why he feels so disconnected from humanity in general. It would be part of why he feels the need to define himself as alien. Knives would rather die than admit this, (and he did) but all he's ever wanted was understanding. The same way Vash does. Knives doesn't understand sexuality/romance, or deep empathy, or most social confinements at all. That's clear by his inappropriate emotional reactions and lack of a filter. He can't feel emotions the same way Vash or Rem can. It makes it very difficult for him to relate to and connect with others. Especially Rem. He feels too wrong, too broken, too alien. But he's convinced himself that this is actually a superiority. So he can sleep at night. But he's far more human than he'll ever be willing to accept. The familial love he feels for Vash is the only thing that makes him feel normal. And it's why he clings to it so desperately. I think that feeling being explicitly familial makes the most sense for the story.

(cut for explicit talk of SA/CSA)

Im never one to dismiss bad actions from a fictional character. If I thought Knives was a sexual abuser, id say it. I even considered it before I watched/read Trigun and kept it in mind the whole time because of how prevalent of a take it is. If anything, I feel like theres more evidence for metaphorical depictions of Knives BEING sexually abused than being the sexual abuser. I mean his literal whole thing is how plants bodies are used and abused against their will. Solely for the humans gain. While it's slowly and painfully killing them. And how afraid he is that they'll do it to him too....😭 He would be absolutely HORRIFIED by SA. I just don't think it's an abuse he'd perpetuate. It goes against literally everything he stands for. I get he’s a hypocrite and all but I could just never see Knives of all people doing anything sexually ever. ESPECIALLY for his own pleasure.

Both Vash and Knives read to me as CSA victims. This would need to be a separate post all together because there is entirely just too much to say. But I feel very strongly about this interpretation and it's why I'm so firm on this. Sexual abuse is a huge theme in trigun OBVIOUSLY!! And Vash and Knives can easily represent different ways people cope with trauma like that. Knives gets angry, and bitter, and lashes out. While Vash shuts himself off, and tries to run away from it all. Two extremes from two brothers. Two sides of the same coin and all that. They've been victimized, I think it's the main reason why Knives would be so angry and distrustful of humans. Now I know Steve was kind of a throw away character from the anime- but I believe long term interpersonal abuse from a human early in life would explain a lot of the deep rooted hatred Knives has for humanity. Along with his hatred for Rem if she failed to protect them, and his deep sense of entitlement to protect Vash if Vash couldn't protect himself. (Tesla was the last straw for Knives bc at least for a while he thought he could trust Conrad till all that happened and he realized the only person he could ever trust was Vash, and that fear never really left him even 100+ years after.) (My interpretation of Conrads role is also a different post gerrrrr TOO MUCH TO SAY.)

Knives' ideology has always been inconsistent, I can easily see him disregarding autonomy in some ways but refusing to in others and never making a mental connection between the two. Plus Knives would think Vashes scars are shameful and disgusting. He probably cant even make himself look at him let alone touch him be so fr. Knives' definitely has an unhealthily attachment to Vash but not in a sexy sex or ROMANCE way 🤦‍♂️ ITS JUST HIS BPD YA’LL 😝‼️#favoriteperson #extremefearofabandonment #vashkeepsleavinghim (also another separate insane essay post) there is no argument here that Knives isn’t extremely bad at emotional regulation. Familial/platonic dynamics like that happen literally all the time it’s just not evidence of anything to me. I can't even see Knives directly punching someone let alone be capable of sexual violence against his own BROTHER ? I'd argue he's far more verbally/emotionally abusive than he ever is physically anyway. He doesn't even kill directly, it's always either done without a second thought by his powers, indirectly by starving the population out, or by making other people do it for him. He doesn't seem to actually enjoy seeing people in pain, more the satisfaction of a job well done. I don't see why this wouldn't apply to Vash too? He doesn't even usually initiate their physical fights. Vash does. (He has every right to, for the record. Knives just doesn't comprehend why Vash would be mad so he always tries to talk like everything is normal. Lol.) And when they are fighting he always puts his hand on his face ?? More annoying than a direct indication of violence. He could just punch him or something but he doesn't? Like violence in Trigun isn't a thing known to happen. Idk I think that's interesting and worth exploring a bit yk ???

Obviously he chopped his arm off I'm not saying he's innocent there either, just that he's more likely to be emotionally manipulative than explicitly interpersonally violent LOOLL. He didn't chop off his brothers arm because he enjoyed it, to him that pain is neutral. It was just a super casual reminder. But SEXUAL violence is completely different, sure it'll leave scars but you can heal from physical pain all day and night I mean commooon it barely even COUNTS as real pain. (Because he rarely has to experience it.) (A certain someone's got a major empathy problem.) And if it kills you it doesn't matter cuz you're already dead 😝!! But SA is different. It's his worst fear and greatest agony. It's something he knows sticks with you your whole life, he doesn't think that's a wound capable of being healed. (So he never tries and chooses to live in constant fear and anger instead.) That's how I see it anyway...🤕 Again it's not like he's a reasonable guy he is known to be a bit unstable idk if u knew...

Actually if anything, I think Vash would be the more interpersonally violent of the two. (Vashes abuse is always reactionary tho he would never act like that if Knives would just be normal lol he is not the aggressor here.) I can't see Knives punching Vash but I could VERY easily see Vash punching Knives ykwim ??? (For trimax anyway, ik kid Knives beats the shit out of him in 98 which I DO think is funny. But I don't accept into my personal canon okay LISTEN we are talking about a lot of conflicting characterizations here. JUST HEAR ME OUT. ✋) Knives never even really blames Vash for BLOWING HIS LEGS OFF in July too, which I always thought was so interesting. It makes me think this is actually a common thing for them to the point that they don't even argue about it outside of "are you actually aiming at me again 🙄?" Which is more bitchy than angry. Like ugh I can't believe you. Typical, typical Vash. 🥱 He'd probably use it as a way of proving to him that they are the same. And despite denying it, Vash would actually agree and feel a deep sense of shame abt it. He's had 150 years of pent up anger after all. He almost killed him with a rock once lol. I'm tired of everyone woobifying Vash as some kind of perpetual uwu victim. Vash is fucking mean sometimes. He is just as capable of violence as Knives is. The same way Knives is just as capable of great kindness. It is known that Vash is in fact physically STRONGER than Knives. (With his plant powers and id assume in general because Vash actually goes outside while Knives reads in his garden all day.) I truly believe that the only reason Knives ever wins the sibling fights is because of Vashes constant hesitance. He's not a battered wife stereotype. All Vash wants is control over his own life, the last thing he'd want to see himself as is a helpless victim. It's why he always pretends nothing is ever wrong with him. It's why he doesn't accept help, and values other people's problems far above his own. His kindness was always an active choice and that's why he's such a powerful character. And Knives would bring out the absolute worst in him LOOL all that work he's done to better himself is instantly thrown out the window the second Knives' very punchable face walks in the room.

He was fighting absolute demons not to run over and beat tf out of Knives in this panel

This is why I feel so disgusted by stampede and the way they handled their relationship. They've dumbed down these characters to the point that they are unrecognizable. Literally every aspect of stampedes portrayal of them feels like a first conclusion based on a synopsis of their goals and personalities. I get there's only one season but that's a LOT to fuck up in one season bro. 😭. There is absolutely no salvaging Nai as a character for me. I'd cover my drink around that guy I find him genuinely repulsive. At least with trimax, you can read around an initial sussy reading if you wanted. How anyone defends Nai, I don't even know. That whole plant insemination thing is pretty on the nose y'all. Literally doesn't even make sense for him to do that like? Why would he want more independent plants??? It's like they tried to make Knives' motivations make sense when the whole point should be that they don't. He's fighting ghosts out of fear. Stampede wasn't even good enough to justify its own existence by how it looks. Adding peculiar plant pregnancy preggo fetish incest bait is just the turd on the turd cake. They ruined the most compelling part of the story for me. Pfft.... But whatever...🚬 not like I care ....🚬

Not to mention Legato y'all don't even get me started. The guy that HATES humans more than anything in the world taking in a HUMAN -SEX TRAFFICKING VICTIM. The one time he's ever taken pity on a human being and it was someone who was the victim of a violent sex crime. Yeah guys that dude. Total raper. Defo a brother diddler. What the fuck are we talking about right now y'all. I genuinely feel like sexual violence would be the last thing knives would ever do ever. I understand that there are sus scenes in the manga that could be interpreted this way, but considering the many themes in Trigun and his place in the story as a whole, I think it is such a misrepresentation. And it frustrates me to see it as one of the only things talked about in regards of his character. If I could, I'd rewrite every scene in the world so people could understand what I see, but I can't. And I know I can't control how other people see the media I like. Trigun is extremely interpretive, and I understand why this is a common conclusion. But I guess I just can't shake the feeling that it's more complicated than that. I have criticisms with trimax and ESPECIALLY 98. And there's obvi a lot id change to fit what I'd find most interesting. (Also why every headcanon revolves around Knives somehow teehee) BUUUUUT I do think all of my analysis is pretty based in canon. I can't stress how insane I am about this and how much I've thought about it 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕. Believe me, I've considered every obstacle. And I've stayed consistent.

Knives is a raper feels like the easy answer to me. To be completely blunt, it's just not as compelling. Vash and Knives would both have very complicated relationships with their bodies and sensualities and gender and their relation to their plantself and their humanself and blah blah blah whatever. I'd much rather explore that as a separate result of the same abuse than default to supercestsimulator69. Knives is already an abuser. Making him a sexual aggressor too doesn't really add anything to the story besides diminish and dumb down his very complex motivations. Vash and Knives should be very good friends who know each other better than anyone. (They are trauma bonded like CRAAAZZY, very codependent like y'all get it.) I think that would make their conflict SO much more interesting. While providing some great context to why Vash is so willing to give every horrible person he meets a second chance at life. If I saw my brother, who I love, and is my best friend in the whole wide world, slowly deteriorate under the pressure of the abuse we we're BOTH experiencing; go fucking crazy and kill everyone. And I KNEWW. He genuinely believed he was doing what he had to do to protect the both of us...I'd probably also give everyone the benefit of the doubt idk. Vash understanding Knives' motivations but still holding on to that (justified) resentment and anger is ESSENTIAAAL to their dynamic and also literally all of Trigun. Sexual abuse throws a rock in all of this. If anything I think Knives would tell Vash "I'm the only one who WOULDN'T assault you. They're human, they'll only see you for how useful you are. It's what they do. It's what you know they do. You're choosing them over me the same way Rem chose Steve over us." Knives' abuse is complicated and multifaceted, not just some gross display of power. He's not even the most power hungry character in the world. He's got a whole cult dedicated to him that he canonically IGNORES.

And he sure as shit doesn't respect people who are desperate for power over others!! He'd think he's above that too. Just more evidence of human deviance. (Like the scene in 98 where kid Vash and Knives are watching the humans fight over water. Animals who think one is more deserving of resources than the other.) He's narcissistic in the literal diagnosable sense but definitely not some kinda megalomaniac. I think that's a huge mischaracterization. He doesn't want to rule the world, he wants to destroy it. And he wants Vash to be his equal in this, he respects Vash. (as far as someone like Knives can respect anybody at all) He doesn't understand why Vash would choose to be so "dumb" because he's never allowed himself to feel the vulnerability of potential harm that Vash wants him to understand is worth it. It's why he locks himself away from the world, he's afraid of being victimized again. Knives' morals are all over the place, he genuinely doesn't think murder is bad but would consider sexual violence to be the worst thing anyone could ever do EVER. It's not like we're talking about the beacon of reason and consistency here y'all, Knives is cray cray sauce.

Anyway that's my thoughts, sorry this took forever to answer. 😿 And ended up being SOOO long.. I've on and off mauled over this writing and rewriting again trying to make any of my garbled thoughts make any sense. Hope it resonates with anybody at least bc I genuinely feel like I've been taking crazy pills lately LOOL. Take care of yourselves everyone. 💖 Never an easy subject to talk about.

[yanderecrazysie]

Veneration Part 2 (Yandere Kenma)

This was requested several times by several different people, mainly on Wattpad! Pretty short because I didn’t know what to write lol.

Also forgive me, I’ve never been to a convention, so this is probably completely off if you’ve been to one.

Part One is here: https://yanderecrazysie.tumblr.com/post/671574398501863425/yn-is-kenmas-no1-fan-to-the-point-of-an

Title: Veneration (part 2)

Pairings: Kenma x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, spoilers for Kenma’s timeskip (Kinda?), Kenma is a bigger fan of you tbh

Summary: When you catch the attention of a famous YouTuber, you think that you’re the luckiest person in the world. Little do you know, you caught his attention long ago. And his obsession is a lot darker than yours.

veneration

/noun/

respect or awe inspired by the dignity, wisdom, dedication, or talent of a person.

There would be only a small window of opportunity.

Only a short amount of time between panels and autograph signings and pictures.

A short amount of time to secure you in his hotel room, make sure you can’t move or speak, then move you back to his home through private jet in the dead of night.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but Kenma had been waiting for this day for months, and he was ready to work as hard as he needed to make sure today went perfectly.

The YouTube convention was alive with people, but Kenma could spot you in the thickest of crowds with ease. To his surprise, your eyes also sought him out and you bashfully stared at his booth with sparkling eyes.

He couldn’t focus on the autographs, not when you were bouncing impatiently in his line, waiting for him to do something as simple as sign a piece of paper for you. He’d do so, so much more for you than that.

When it was finally, finally your turn, he nearly forgot to ask for your name, tripping over his words in an attempt to cover up the fact that he already knew exactly who you are.

Then came the pictures with fans, and he was practically shivering in excitement when you came up next to him. He nodded mutely to everything you said, too overwhelmed by your proximity to truly respond. When he wrapped his arm around you, he felt himself shudder slightly, goosebumps rising on his skin at the wonderful contact.

He had to force himself to let go.

Later on, he and a few other popular youtubers were being asked questions about themselves. Even though the crowd of fans was dim compared to the spotlight-lit stage, he could pick out your beautiful form.

“Koduzen, do you have a partner?”

He smiled, looking down fondly at you, even though you hadn’t asked the question, “Not yet, but I have someone I’m interested in.”

The crowd oohed and ahhed but Kenma’s attention never left you.

It was only when he excused himself to use the bathroom and skillfully slipped off into the crowd did he find himself face-to-face with you once again. Your pretty eyes went wide and shone brightly when you realized you were looking at your YouTube idol.

“Hello, (Y/n)…” Kenma could tell you were overwhelmed, trying to comprehend everything that was going on, too excited to catch onto the red flags.

He smiled and held out a hand for you to take.

“Let’s take a walk.”

[triple-asstro]

hey @jasontoddisbest, i did it. hope you enjoy <3

'Lol ik this isn't supposed to be an insert reader post but IMAGINE rise!donnie's s/o walking up to her all protective of rise!donnie and ALSO simultaneously shutting her. ass. down.'

thanks to @primussavethesemechs for starting the og idea <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today wasn’t really a great day. You were at the bus stop again, the rain completely pouring onto the glass panel above you and onto your hair and clothes, annoyingly waiting for your friend, April. But it wasn’t the April O’Neil that you knew for most of your life that wore burgundy buns and cropped green varsity jacket along with a black choker. It was the other April O’Neil that had shoulder-length ginger hair and blue eyes that though an okay friend, would often get on your nerves with her antics and now, that girl was three hours late to pick you up from school. You would excuse a couple of minutes but three full hours? Now that immediately put you in a sour mood. Before you could get too hung up on it, you felt your phone vibrate as you pulled it out to see who was texting you.  

‘♡'Tello♡: Hi dove. I was wondering why you aren’t back from school yet cause you're usually here by now, pestering me about my world-changing inventions.” 

You chuckle as you typed back an answer: “yeah, I would if other April actually picked me up.” 

"Are you making that up? She isn't even available?"

"nope. i had to do some extra work which only took ten or so minutes and she left to go talk to you, i think."

"well, i was a bit puzzled as to why she arrived without you because- nevermind..."

You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion at the odd statement. Usually, when Donnie starts a sentence, he would either go on a long rant about his inventions or he'd either make a sarcastic quip but never before as he 'never minded' his sentences. At least not with you.

"wait, because what? did something happen don?"

Before you could read his text, a loud ring echoed throughout the parking lot as a bicycle rode up with a familiar rider with burgundy buns and black capri leggings along with a wool sweater the same colour as her leggings and a salmon-coloured tee.

"Apes, how did you know I was here?"

"After I realized you didn't come here with my copy-self, I knew something was up. So, I had to come for my bestie."

"Thanks. I really appreciate this." you said as you climbed onto the back of April's bicycle and drove off before glancing back at the text between you and Donnie.

"well, she seemed to be very distracted when she started to converse with me and acting very courteous towards me in particular. alternate me seemed a bit gloomy at that."

What? Excuse me? You felt absolutely fuming at this revelation as your grip tighten around April's back. You weren't mad at the fact that someone had a crush on your boyfriend, I mean who wouldn't? You were more infuriated by the fact that even though other April clearly had other Donnie completely in love with her, she was flirting with Donnie. The Donnie who was your boyfriend. The whole bicycle ride to the underground lair, you were completely filled with utter rage as you entered the sewers with April. You were absolutely going to have a talk with Other April. A very long talk.

As you both entered the lair, quickly avoiding another argument between Leo and Mikey, you cracked the door to Donnie's lab open and peered into the room. The lab was its usual fluorescent-lighted self, with Donnie's inventions strung across the table and the ginger-haired April staring at them. Taking a deep breath in, you leaned against the door with your arms crossed, preparing for a prolonged confrontation and waiting for what felt like hours, she finally stepped out.

"Hey, O'Neil. How was your day?"

"Oh, hi Y/N it was alright. Donnie started talking about his inventions again and he seemed super into it."

"The Donnie that you personally know who actually fancies you, or the Donnie with the tech-bo since you seem pretty focused on the latter..."

April's face froze and she looked back at you in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you're trying to flirt with my boyfriend."

Suddenly, April's face of shock quickly turned into an expression of insult as her voice started to stutter and scratching the back of her head. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

"April, stop repeating yourself. Look, I'm not one for confrontations but please, can you stop flirting with my boyfriend? Please."

"Are you kidding me? I was talking to the other Donnie. I swear you accuse me of the weirdest things..."

You were beyond baffled at this point. Not only was she trying to deny, deny, deny, but she was also trying to twist your words. Ain't that hilarious.

"No, actually, I'm not kidding April. It's actually hilarious to see how oblivious you are."

Your voice grew louder and louder, your anger and resentment consuming everything you said.

"The entire time that you and your friends have been here, we've all seen that gap-tooth Donnie has a thing for you. A very obvious thing for you and you know that I know you know that and yet, you still string him along making him think he has a chance while you flirt with another version of him? How do you think he feels?!"

"How do you think he feels?!?"

Silence suddenly filled the room as April's eyes widen in shock and the buzzing of the lights above was cast upon you both. At this point, the blinding rage boiled down into pure frustration as you heavily sighed and walked over to April, placing your hand firmly on her shoulder.

"I'm only going to say this once so listen up. Stop flirting with my boyfriend and stop playing with that boy's feelings. It's messed up and you know better than that."

April simply stood there before leaving through the back door in a huff as you slumped down leaning against the desk, burying your head into your knees trying to recollect your thoughts and mentally prepare for tomorrow.

"She seems disappointed. Alternate me's gonna thank you."

You darted your head to the front door which had Donnie, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin and sipping some coffee from a worn-out mug. He still had his battle shell on but had his silky-purple hoodie wrapped around his waist.

"Oh god, did you see all of that?"

"No, I didn't see much," Donnie said, before sitting down next to you. "Except when you completely chewed out Other April and yelled at her."

You heavily sighed, trying to possibly push your face further into your hands. "Great. Just great. I know I was being a bit overprotective and it was only because I thought you liked-"

"Wait, you think I liked her?"

"I-maybe, I know it was stupid to think that but, I actually thought that she would take you away and..."

"And? And what?"

"And I would lose you to her and it will be the biggest regret and hurt I've felt in my life. It's just today's been the worst day ever and she even forgot about me which just added more fuel to the fire."

Donnie suddenly chuckled dryly before patting your shoulder. "Oh, sweet, sweet N/N. Never in twenty millennia will I fall for April. Especially that April. You and your oh-so-adorable attitude are all that I have eyes for."

"Alright, smooth 'Tello. I get it. It was very stupid for me to think that, anyway and I'm glad I have you." you smiled, hovering your hand over his shoulder before he nodded and you pulled him into a hug, him feeling the leftover heat from your body after you got completely soaked in the rain and snuggling his head into your neck.

"Plus, it was quite satisfying to see you put her in her place."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! take care and I hope you love this @jasontoddisbest <3)

[toxicanonymity]

The Hardware Store. Ben's Hardware Ch. 2

4050 words / Ben Solo x Rey / ch 1, ch 3

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, dubcon via inappropriate use of the force, masturbation kind of, voice kink. Hardware Store AU but more than meets the eye. special thanks to @dark-scape

-

Rey thinks of him constantly, but the next few nights are dreamless.  She returns to the hardware store on her next day off.   Her cheeks are burning as soon as she walks through the sliding doors.  She grabs a hand basket.  She’s wearing a wool hat, even though it's not that cold.  She feels less exposed this way.  She heads for Aisle 39 as if he just hangs out there all the time. Her eyes dart around, unsure whether she’s hoping to see him.  Her heart is racing.  She reminds herself it was just a dream.  It wasn't real.  He hasn't tasted my skin or seen my tits.  I have no idea what he sounds like when he comes.  

Oof. Now she's all hot and bothered. Rey squares her chin.  She's at the store to get a part and finish her project.  Maybe she'll see the same worker, maybe she won't.  Her heart aches to think she might not.  She hasn't felt this irrational over a stranger since she was a teenager.  She doesn't even know his name.  

Aisle 39.  He's not around. She sighs silently in a mix of relief and disappointment.  She lazily browses, biding her time. She's looking for the whole dimmer, not just the knob after all.  The whole package.  When other workers walk by, she puts on an air of confidence so they won't help her and thereby ruin her excuse for talking to him.  

She holds a dimmer in her hand and nods in approval as she pretends to read the back.  After ten minutes of various versions of this, she tires and pulls out her phone, searching "LED dimmer."  She locates a match and puts it in her basket.  She has no idea what to do, installation-wise.  She starts googling.  She's going to need a screwdriver for the panel, and a voltage tester. 

She wanders through the store with this list in mind, even though Poe and Finn surely have the tools at home.  The screwdriver will depend on the screws.  She finds herself in the nail and screw aisle and stares at the little bins on the shelf, thinking about the other night’s lucid dream.  It was impossibly vivid.  His skin was hot and soft. She wants to feel it again, feel it more.  Feel *him* more.  Feel him inside her.  It wasn't real.

A voice like a bassline snaps her out of it.  "What kind of screw do you need?"

Her heart catches in her throat.  She turns.  "Um, Hi. . . I hadn't given it much thought." She smiles with just a hint of sauciness. She must be emboldened by the illusion of having seen him naked…ish.   

She sees him now: flannel shirt, black and yellow.  Jeans.  Radio clipped to his belt.  No apron, no hoodie.  Charcoal work jacket, collar erect . She likes it. She wonders if he's doing a different job today or if the new management is ditching the aprons. He steps a little closer and stands by her side, looking at the shelf with her.  His arm brushes hers, and arousal moistens her panties.  "Oh, I hadn't thought about it either," he reassures her, almost demurely.  Is he teasing her?  She smiles up at him.  He’s so tall.  He spreads his feet a little, just like he did when he was thumbing through the records.  It wasn't real.

He surveys the shelf, then turns back to her.  "So, you want to think about it, or want a hand figuring that out?"  He could read her the tool catalog and it would sound sexy, but he's also asking a logical question.   He follows it with, "What do you want to do?" And steps into her space.  Interesting.  The other night he made her make all the moves.  It wasn't real.

"I, um-"

"Install this?" He leans closer, grabs the dimmer out of her basket, and turns the package over to read.  God, he smells good.  

She enjoys the intimacy of this.  Surely he doesn't reach into just anyone's basket.  She watches him brush his hair behind his ears and gives a small nod, captivated.  She wets her lips.  

"Oh yeah," he looks up in recognition.  She wonders if he knew it was her when he came over. She reminds herself she might be just another customer to him.  "You want to install this dimmer," he concludes, nodding with a contemplative pout.  

His voice is like ASMR.  It penetrates her skin.  She inhales his scent.  It's not cologne.  It's more like a luxury shampoo.  A masculine one.  It really compliments the sawdust aroma of the store.  She lets out a little sigh as he waits patiently. Feeling self-conscious, she explains her sigh.  "I really haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing."

He drops his head a little, which only emphasizes his height when he’s this close to her.  "Oh, don't sell yourself short," he says, letting that hang.  He sweeps a few strands of hair behind his ear.  His hand brushes the jacket collar and he doesn't put it down.  He gazes absently at the screws.

She breaks the silence. "I mean really, how does it work?"  Ugh, she thinks. Why did she ask that? She's certain he doesn't know a thing about hardware.  She hopes this doesn't end the conversation. She should have waited to see where he took it.  

The radio on his belt hisses with static a few times.  Bleep, bloop. "Hux to Solo." A burst of static. "Solo, come in. Do you copy? Solo. Code 66. North port." He reaches to his hip and turns a knob to silence the intrusion with a clenched jaw.  Her eyes follow his hand to his pants.   His jeans are not exactly baggy.  She shakes herself back to reality.  What's code 66, she wonders. 

"Hey.  I'll be honest with you," he says.  "This isn't really my department."  No shit.

Rey nods, "yeah,"  wondering what his department is.  Wood? There's a moment of silence.

"That obvious?" he glances down, then at her.  No smile, but his eyes are warm.  Almost hot.  Before she can ask about his department, he adds, "Buuuut." The low hum of his voice gives her goosebumps and she tugs her sleeves down.  He continues, "if you figure out what kind of screw you need. . ." her cheeks burn under her freckles, and her nipples harden.  She crosses her arms.  "I'm pretty good at reading the shelves, so I could help you find it," he finishes, straight faced.  "The screw might depend on the outer panel on your wall at home," he suggests with a shrug. 

Rey thinks about what kind of screw she *really* needs, and the left side of her bottom lip slides under her top teeth. The right side of his mouth breaks into a little smile and he searches her face.  His eyes sparkle and his eyebrows raise like he's about to offer something.  Rey hopes it's his number or at least his name.  

An apron-clad worker arrives and receives somewhat of a glare for interrupting.  "Sorry,” they look down nervously,  “Hux needs you."  They step back a little.  Rey wonders if she should excuse herself. 

His plush lips disappear into a straight line, and he jams his large hands into his pockets.  He closes his eyes and his nose takes in a slow breath, like he’s calming himself.  She wants to feel his nose on her neck, his breath against her mouth.  He nods his head downward as he exhales, then reverses and stares straight up at the ceiling for a beat and blinks as he inhales.  

With his neck outstretched, Rey sees a red mark on it.  Her breath hitches, remembering what she did.  It wasn't real.  It's at the exact right spot.  She feels naked.  Her hand comes up to her own neck and her fingertips feel her heart racing.  She studies the mark.  It's two smaller marks, really.  A perfect match with her teeth.  She can still feel his skin between her lips.  Now she can't even remember what they were talking about.  

His deep voice sharpens, and he turns to the worker. "Tell him I'm with a customer.”  He rises to the tips of his toes then rocks back down. The heels of his work boots land with a soft rubber thud and he looks at the worker expectantly. 

The worker looks hesitant, but replies "Of course," and scurries off.  Rey wonders if Hux is his boss.  Bold response, if so. She stares again at his neck, though she can't see the mark as well in the shadow of his hair and collar.  His hand follows her gaze, and his finger traces his red skin.  Shit. He noticed.  Rey wants to crawl into her wool hat.

"Sorry," she blurts out.

"Oh. . ." he says, dropping his head a little. His hair falls into the far side of his face, forming a private curtain for them.  "Don't be.  It didn't hurt," he adds, almost reassuringly.  She's frozen.  Her mouth is dry.  She swallows.  He quickly corrects himself, "Doesn't. It doesn't hurt." He brushes the curtain of hair back. 

Rey lingers on his words, with her lips slightly parted, then apologizes again, clarifying, "I didn't mean to stare."  He shrugs and picks up a screw to examine.  She wants that red mark to be hers so badly.  Her panties throb.  Then it hits her that the mark might be someone else's.  Her temples feel weak, but she tries to brush it off for now.  

"Occupational hazard," he says, dropping the screw back into its bin. 

Rey's eyes drift to his jeans again, and she yanks them back up.  She abruptly changes the subject, forgetting to ask which department is his.  "Where's the apron?"

"Oh, I just haven't put it on yet," he answers.

"I liked your doodle," she explains, not wanting to sound like a Karen.

"You liked my. . ." 

"Um, the death star."

"Ah, yeah.” He lights up. “Well, I'm glad to hear that.  You know, not everyone-"

A stern voice comes over the intercom:  "Benjamin to Greenery. Benjamin to Greenery.  Please ."  

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as though to say, how dare he .  He must be getting called back to his department.  "Sorry, I have to go."

"Okay. . . Benjamin," Rey smiles brightly, adding an inquisitive raise of her eyebrows.

"Ben," he chuckles, and doesn’t ask her name.   She's holding the hand basket with both hands. He gives her arm an affectionate squeeze as he turns to leave.  "See you later, Rey."  

Rey feels the blood leave her face at the sound of her name.  "Sorry, what?"

He turns back.  "See you later, I hope."  

Maybe she heard what she wanted to hear the first time – her name sounds so safe in his mouth.  But, he hopes.   She smiles as he walks away with a swift, long stride. 

Rey hopes she doesn't look too giddy.  She feels observed.  She adjusts her hat and clears her throat, then checks out and pays.  She makes sure she has her keys and looks at her receipt on her way out.  She reads it again, Ben's Hardware . . .she pines for his hardware.  Maybe the Ben is his dad, and that's how he gets away with defying his manager.  She feels a little bad for thinking it.  He doesn't have a nepotism vibe.  Common name, most likely a coincidence. "Ben," she whispers to herself, approaching her car.  It really suits him. Masculine. Humble.  She puts the receipt in her pocket.   

As she reaches her car door, there’s a loud boom near the store.  She looks back to see a white tractor trailer docked near the greenhouse.  Men in pale jumpsuits appear to be loading crates *into* the truck. Maybe they're remodeling?

She sees Ben's silhouette mount the truck, his hair catching up to him in a bounce.  He’s talking to someone. His hands are on his hips, his jacket pushed back behind him.  He points with his thumb over his shoulder toward the store, then points with both hands into the truck.  He drops an arm and pauses, as though waiting for an answer. He twists toward the parking lot, gesturing with both hands.  He does a double take in her direction before pivoting back toward the inside of the truck.  He steps further into the truck.  As she gets in her car, she hears something clang – from inside the truck, she thinks.  She wonders briefly if Ben has a temper, but she can’t picture it. 

Rey doesn’t have any other plans today, aside from stopping home to water her own plants.  She thinks about finding out what kind of screw she needs and coming back to the store.  She wonders if it would be too much to come twice in one day.   Hey, that’s the kind of screw I need.  Her mind drifts to his climax, and hers. It wasn't real.

Before she turns on her car, she looks in his direction one last time.  Through the nursery, she can just barely see Ben hop down out of the truck. She can't pull herself away just yet.  It's like a magnetic force.  She feels it in her whole body.  Being in the same parking lot as him is enough to make her tingle.  Her stomach growls.

-

Outside the Café  

It's another rare weekday off, so Rey decides to visit Chalmun's Café next door before she leaves.  When she comes out with her soup, she notices the white tractor trailer has moved out of view.  She sits on the patio. It's still bright for December.  She finds her sunglasses.  She kind of feels like a creep sitting there, but she's been going there for years and even worked for Chalmun in high school.  Granted, she's never eaten outside.  

Rey will feel less creepy if she doesn’t stare at the store.  She scoots her chair, metal screaming on the concrete, to face the parking lot instead.  As she situates herself, out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Ben round the corner outside the nursery.  Her heart races.  She can’t help but glance.  It’s him, and he seems to be in a heated argument with a slender, serious-looking man with red hair and pale skin.  They pause at the corner.  

Ben is facing the hardware store, but his voice is booming.  “My customers need it.  Find another way.”  His customers?  Rey smiles with a bit of second-hand embarrassment, but it's charming.  

“Your customers, Ben?” The redhead raises his voice, incredulous, then reigns himself in.  “Respectfully.  We have one customer.”  He's the voice from the intercom.

“Yes, my customers.  My customers here ." He moves both hands in unison like he's explaining a logical sequence that should be common sense:  "There’s no store without the customers, and there are no customers without inventory.  Tell them the rest is staying here.”

The redhead looks distressed.  “If we don’t deliv-”

Unmoved, Ben points at the truck. “Unload those last two crates, too.” 

The redhead is exasperated.  “I tried to call y-”

Ben continues, “You should have made a bigger order.  Don’t they give you a list?”

“We can’t–there’s no–it’s the supply chain-"

“If I hear another word about the supply chain,” Ben warns him with a finger, and pauses. “Get another supplier." He shrugs with his arms raised, then tries to move on.  "What the hell are they building now, anyway? Why could they possibly need so mu-” 

“- What other suppliers?”  

“I don’t know; Mitaka got new suppliers all the time!” 

“Not in this business model,” the redhead responds.  “That was before.” Their heads seem to be cooling.  Rey can just barely hear. 

“Suppliers are suppliers,” Ben insists.  “And now, you’re ordering from a local hardware store.  If anything, more of them should be willing to work with you.  That was the whole point,” he sighs.  

The redhead thinks for a moment, and seems to sour.  He snaps, “Well I can’t exactly ask Mitaka where to find new suppliers.  Maybe if you hadn’t-” She can’t hear the rest, or he stops.  

Ben's hands ball into fists at his sides.  He watches the redhead shrink. “If I hadn’t what?”

The redhead is coughing. He catches his breath and tries to rephrase.  “I mean, if Mitaka was still-” He coughs again and starts over more gently.  "If we hadn’t-”

“If HE hadn't.  We had no choice.  Figure it out, Hux," Ben commands.  "And put on the apron.”   Ben shoves a cloth bundle into his chest.  As Hux raises a hand to receive it, Ben gives him an appreciative pat to soften the blow.  Ben steps around him and through a back door to the store.  Hux lingers there for a moment, his head bowed, the strings dangling from the apron.  He scoffs and brings a radio to his mouth as he walks off.  

Rey feels guilty for spying, but it was kind of sexy to see him dress Hux down like that, only because Hux seemed to deserve it.  Hux must not be his manager after all.  Is Ben the Ben?  Or maybe he’s a logistics guy? She’ll learn more about him in due time, she thinks.  She finishes her meal and leaves.  

Today was the most Rey's ever spoken to Ben.  The closest she's ever stood.  The most he’s ever touched her in real life .  Hopefully that won’t hold true for long.  Her arm is still vibrating from his little squeeze.  And his aroma – goodness.  She wants to figure out what it is so she can inhale it before she sleeps.  Anything to see him again. Citrus and eucalyptus?  She scolds herself.  She has to find some kind of release.  Her gym bag is in the hatch, she remembers.  She can make the next boxing class before she goes home.  

-

The Gym

Rey braids her hair into pigtails to keep it out of her face.   The first third of class is on the bags, mostly kicking, then she stretches.  It feels good to limber up her groin.  It’s been holding a lot of tension.  Next, they use handheld strike pads, rotating match-ups with class members.  “Damn, who pissed you off today?” the instructor remarks. “Pair up.” Time to spar. 

There are no other women to spar with today, so she pairs off with the smallest guy.  It’s not the first time she's fought him.  He once decked her in the mouth, even though heads are off-limits in class.  She didn't blame him - reflexes are reflexes - but she doesn’t hold back as much now.  By the end of the match, he looks dejected and embarrassed, and she's finally worn out.  She gives him an apologetic pat on the back on her way to the locker room.  She feels kind of bad but also satisfied.  He returns the gesture and as he raises his arm, she catches a whiff of her victory.  There’s something about the smell of men, she admits.  Even men that don’t interest her.    

***

Rey peels off her sports bra and leggings, which are already cold with sweat, and grabs two towels to hit the sauna.  She steps in and feels the warm floor under her feet.  She wraps a towel around herself and puts another down on the wood bench.  She takes a seat, sinking back into the wood.  The sauna is dimly lit with a salt lamp.   She undoes her pigtails then leans her head back again.  

Her mind and body are humming with the afterglow of seeing (and hearing)  Ben.  Her mind replays things he said to her today, conjuring his voice as best she can. “. . . want my help figuring that out?” She smiles and bites her lip.  It was so hard to pull herself away from him.  He seemed just as reluctant to leave her presence, she realizes: "Tell him I'm with a customer."   

She remembers Ben's confrontation with Hux in the parking lot.  She wants to focus on Ben’s booming voice, but the echo of Hux creeps in.  “We have one customer.”  She can’t help but dwell on it and wonder if there’s something else at play.   It’s none of her business, she tells herself.  She doesn't want to know.  She tries to release Hux from her mind.  The sight of him is killing the mood, too.  

Suddenly she hears Ben’s voice out loud, gentle and clear as a bell: “You heard nothing.  It’s just a hardware store."   It stops her breath and startles her eyes open. Her skin is gooseflesh and her nipples are pebbles.   How did she do that, she wonders.  It was like he was there.  She breathes to slow her heart rate.  Once she can relax again, she tries to hear him say something a little sexier. "If you figure out what kind of screw you need . . ."  but she doesn’t hear it out loud.  It doesn't echo or send a prickle up her neck.    

She can't remember what she was thinking about just before.  Her thoughts turn to the dream, Ben's arms moving her up and down, the shine of cum on his shredded torso.  She rewinds to the beginning of the dream and tries to hear him say “you can sit anywhere you want."  She doesn’t hear it out loud, but the memory is enough to stir something between her legs. She clenches  her thighs together firmly.  Now this sauna is getting hot.  She adjusts her towel at the top.   

“Lower,” the voice says out loud.  “As low as you want,” it encourages.  Oh .  She remembers the towel around her chest.  Okay, she’ll play this game with herself.  She tugs the towel a little lower and a nipple peeks out.  There were no other women in class, so no one will barge in.  

“How do you feel,” Ben’s voice says.  Her heart swells, and her eyelids feel heavy.

Relaxed, she thinks.  This is incredibly realistic.  How is she doing it? Incapacitating lust is a hell of a drug, she thinks.  Extreme fatigue doesn’t hurt, either.  She relaxes her shoulders.  She tingles all over.  She closes her eyes gently.   “Say something else,” she whispers to no one. 

“Do you want to touch yourself?” his voice asks.  

No, Rey thinks, startled. At the same time, she reaches to massage the muscle that connects her pec to her armpit, which aches from striking.  She lets her palm rest on her nipple and grazes it lightly.  Wetness seeps into the towel she's sitting on as she recalls how his lips felt on her breasts. She breathes in through her mouth.  It wasn’t real. 

“Where else?” Ben’s voice asks.  She clenches her thighs again, tighter.  “Don’t be shy,” it encourages. She lets her other hand part the towel and find its way to the apex of her entrance.  She holds her hand there, but doesn’t press down.  She can feel the energy there.  She thinks about his hard cock against her.  Ben's hard cock. It’s the only thing she wants to feel.  

“How?” she whispers, wondering how this works.

“Fuck me,” his voice answers.

“How?” she thinks silently  

“Just ask.”  

She relaxes, releasing everything but her memories.   Her fingers are resting gently, practically hovering, right near her sensitive bud.  She feels his cock pressing against her. She begins to move her middle and ring fingers in a come hither motion, without physically touching her own skin.  Truly, all she wants to feel is Ben. 

Gradually, she feels his cock sliding against her to the rhythm of her fingers.   He feels amazing.  She hears him breathing.  She slows her hand, and his cock slows with it.  He softly moans.  It's an exhilarating  sensation.  It’s like she's pulling on invisible strings, operating him as her personal toy.  She speeds up again.   The sauna begins to smell like bergamot and eucalyptus.   She wants him desperately.  Needs him.   

“Take it.”

A pang of pleasure in her core begins to pulse outward.  She clenches her legs desperately, and she comes.  In public.  Her face contorts into a grimace, her head turns to the ceiling, her aching muscles jolt, her feet lift off the warm ground, her back off the bench. 

She catches her breath and wipes sweat off her face.  It’s the relief she needed.  She sinks back into the wood bench, wishing it was his chest.  She hears him breathing so clearly that it could be someone else.  She panics to close her towel as she opens her eyes and is relieved she's still alone.  

-

Thank you for reading and engaging!!

Chapter 3

[mugiwara-rosewolf]

Hello, I just discovered your blog via one of your writings, I really love your style ♥

I confess that I never think of sabo with a blind eye. It seems to me that in the anime he has his two eyes.

I thought of an idea: how would Sabo react who, because of the flames, lost an eye to a blind reader. Poor thing, she can't see the beauty of Sabo 😢. The reader is female, with remance. Sabo would be insecure about his scar but would try to get over it so at least the reader can know what he looks like when she touches him.

Have a nice day ♥

Hello! I’m so glad to hear that you’ve enjoyed my writings! Though, I have to be honest, a lot of my headcanons about Sabo’s injuries come from binging @theprodigypenguin ‘s works on AO3 when I first joined the fandom. If you’re looking for deep diving fics about Sabo’s character, I’d highly recommend them!

That said, I absolutely adore this prompt and would love to give it a shot. —Hope You Enjoy!

Love is Blind

Sabo x F!Reader

Note: Reader has color vision & acuity to see shapes, so they are technically classified as having “low vision” as opposed to “total blindness” (aka no light perception)

"Alright, the mission is simple," Koala reminded him. "Infiltrate the engagement, gain entrance to the host nobleman's office, swipe the records and get out. We need to be outta sight by dawn, alright?"

"Ah~ good ole breaking and entering," Sabo grinned. “Just like old times.”

"No, no breaking-" the woman spy snagged his cheek before he could stop her. "Hack was clear about our orders. That means no making trouble for the boss, you understand?"

"Okay, okay, ow-ow!" Sabo swatted her hand away, even knowing that scarred flesh wouldn't bruise. "That was one time, alright? I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

She didn't need to be on his good side for Sabo to know the look she was giving him. That droll side-eye and incredulous brow she had, like he was a child who’d spilled food down his front. Making messes that she always had to clean up. Or so she said. Sabo shook his head with a hand on his chest. "Come now, don’t you trust your own partner in crime?"

"I don't know, should I?"

"...touché.”

***

The light of her father's chandeliers hung above them, casting the space into a twilight glow. Silhouettes like over-large dust mites blurred slowly in circles as the orchestra strung together one waltz after another. Perhaps it'd be a crime to say - but Y/N would rather be out in the pitch dark of the garden than be a withering wallflower in this ballroom.

She knows it's a ballroom because the piano echoes in her ears, low notes reverberating in her chest just as much as if she were leaning against the instrument herself. The cellos of the string section strike a similar chord into the vibrating floors beneath her slippers. A lifetime of thin-soled shoes helped distinguish warm wood panels from the cold, slippery marble her mother loved to decorate the entryway and balconies. All those outward-facing places where their wealth-sighted guests could gawk and admire their purported majesty.

Occasionally, a confection of colour would flash past, jerking her back from her reverie. Coarse crinoline would rub between her fingers. A passing maid would scold her with a tap on the shoulder. The universal whisper of 'stop fidgeting' or 'stop staring' always caught her ear.

Y/N ran a tongue over her teeth. As if the voices in this cavernous space weren't living for the pageantry of being seen and gawked at in one way or another. All this fuss over mounds of crinkly fabric and gnarly colognes. What did they care if her sightless gaze was -There are only so many times one can pretend to scan the room between one feels like they're adrift at sea in a dense fog. It was hard not to get seasick at the feeling.

A hand on her shoulder. A warm, nimble-fingered phantom that lingered only milliseconds before-

"Excuse me, miss?"

Y/N turned to the sound of the voice. Following a rail-thin line of bruising shadows until a shock of pale…everything halted her gaze. Is that the face? Gods, I hope that’s the face and not some obnoxious- “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Ah, pardon,” the -presumably male- voice said, retracting his hand as if he’d touched a hot iron. Something inside her wilted. “This’ll sound strange but,” cloth shuffled, somewhere around the joint between pale and dark. “Could you direct me to the nearest restroom?”

“The restroom?”

“Yea.”

“The men’s…restroom.”

“Yes.”

“Well you were right about sounding strange,” Y/N quipped. Resolute and unbothered, Y/N rose from her seat and offered an arm towards the figure. “It’ll be easier if we walk there.”

“If we…walk?”

“Yes, then I can guide you.”

“But can’t you just-"

“No, I’m afraid I’m quite terrible at giving directions,” at least in the way others understand them. Y/N jerked her elbow out for emphasis. “Well? Is your bladder about to burst, or what?”

If her mother was in earshot, she’d surely earned herself a smack upside the head. But in the midst of a public soirée, no one could do a thing. To her surprise, the stranger didn’t choke in shock or stammer in flustered offence.

Instead, the man…laughed. He bloody snorted. The sound was muffled, as if he too were hiding behind a cupped hand. But the sound was unmistakable. Laughter was so rare here….

“Pfft! You are certainly more brazen than I was expecting,” the man said.

“Oh? And does that trouble you, sir?”

Before Y/N could find another taunt on her lips, a velvet sleeve slid past her own. Hooking elbows to elbows like the links of fine jewellery. All words dried up. She could feel his breath lean close to her ear.

“-not in the slightest.”

Her stomach swooped. She quickly cleared her throat and set her chin towards the nearest black hole in the wall. “Very well then, this way.”

***

All things considered, Sabo was feeling rather proud of himself. He had successfully infiltrated the event undetected. He'd found a viable excuse to escape the main throng and was now on his way to objective number two: find Mister What's-His-Face's office.

Only one obstacle stood between him and his next steps: the stowaway accomplice. Witty, direct and beautifully dressed, the woman marched down the halls of this obnoxiously coloured palace as if she owned it. Even then, he wasn't sure what possessed him to approach a party guest for an excuse instead of just wandering off on his own, as was his usual. But then again, Koala had already chewed him out for his last solo fiasco, so maybe it was a subconscious abundance of caution. Her grip was almost worse than his.

However, what he found most perplexing about the new variable in his plans - was that she still wouldn't look him in the eyes. Even when they first met, she resolutely stared at the crown of his head as she spoke, unblinking. Their entire trek had been deathly silent, save for the tread of slippers and boots on hard wooden floors. Then again, given how he could only see one side of her face at any given time...maybe there was a reason she refused to meet his gaze directly.

"Tell me something, miss," he decided on a whim.

"Something important, I assume?"

"Oh no, a trivial curiosity, I assure you."

"Then why bother with it in the first place?"

"For the fun of it," he shrugged. "And because I'm curious."

A heavy sigh. The first time he's seen the noblewoman close her eyes for an extended period of time. "Very well then, ask away."

"-Is there a reason you won't look me in the eye?" Her strides stalled. Both of them came to a stop in the middle of the hall. In front of a glorious painting, Sabo couldn't bring himself to attend. She didn't say anything at first. He offered a sympathetic if self-deprecating laugh for her benefit. "I'm not that atrocious to look at, am I?"

She tilted her head slightly. Turning her e/c gaze to some spot over his shoulder. "No. I wouldn't know. I can't tell what you look like."

"You-" That's when it clicked. The unblinking gaze, the thousand-yard star, the way she tilted her head at certain sounds, how careful her steps were amongst the ballroom crowds. "You're, bli-" His laughter caught him by such surprise he nearly choked.

"Yes, I - I beg your pardon?!"

The irony wracked his body so hard he couldn't stop. Shoulders shaking, stomach seizing, he just couldn't stop laughing: "Oh my-!" His scarred face hurt from the pinch of smiling so much. He wiped a stinging tear from his eye. "I just - it really is the blind leading the blind, isn't it?"

Her offended furrow fell slack. "I...beg your pardon?"

"I'm guessing you still have light perception, then. Eh?"

"You are being awfully casual about this."

"Well, why not?" Sabo shrugged. "I'm completely blind in one eye, figure as long as we're talking here, we may as well speak plainly about it."

"Hmph," Something like a twitch of a smile tugged at her cheek. "Well, now who's the brazen one?"

Sabo chuckled. Hiding his smile behind one hand, he leaned into the warmth of her arm and whispered: "I don't see why we both can't be bold, do you?"

The lady's own smile turned coy. "You're not really a gentleman, are you?"

"Not exclusively," he admitted with a grin. "Why? Do I make a bad impression?"

"The absolute worst," she said with a breathy laugh. "Our chain of islands is too small for me not to know the voices of most noblemen - and yet I've never heard anyone quite like you."

"And I you, my lady."

"You weren't really aiming for the restroom, were you?"

"Not really," Sabo shrugged. "Just needed an excuse to escape the crowds."

The woman chuckled. "You and I both, good sir."

"Sabo."

"What?"

"Sabo. That's what my friends call me."

Her smile grew, the cutest blush streaking across her cheeks. "Then I suppose you can call me Y/N, so long as we're among good company."

"Oh, you're in great company," Sabo assured, squeezing her arm against his side. "Now that we're free, we can go anywhere we want."

"Free..." her echoing whisper was like a spring breeze to his ears. "There's nothing more I've ever wanted to be."

Sabo grinned. Unwinding their arms just enough to dare and weave his hand with hers. "Then today's your lucky day, Y/N. Follow me?"

"Lead the way - Sabo."

[superhero-appreciation-blog]

My Batfam AU part 5 (pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4)

Bruce grapples up to Barbara’s apartment and sneaks in from window Barbara has set aside especially for Bat visitors with the special hidden passcode panel

Barbara ignores the notification saying Batman has arrived

Bruce find the three of them in her bedroom, having an existential crisis

He takes note of the way Barbara and Kara are laying across the bed horizontally and facing away from each other while Dick is lying on the floor, to the side of the bed, near Barbara’s head

Dick looks up at his Dad, eyes wide

Bruce kneels, worried that his boy is hurt

Dick’s voice trembles, Dad, Jason’s alive, he’s alive

In the basement, Tim feels tiny sitting on the couch with Jason

He remembers when Jason was closer to his own size, when he’d see the other boy fly with Batman across the skyline and watch with awe that someone just a bit taller, a bit more broad was helping save people

It made him want to stand up taller, reach the same heights as Robin

Tim doesn’t think he’ll ever reach Jason’s height - physically or metaphorically

He feels tiny, sitting at the opposite end of the couch from the other, arms wrapped around his knees

What point?

Hmm?

You said you have a point to prove… to Bruce, what point?

I’m not blaming you, this is entirely on Bruce’s shoulders, but Robin should have died with me…

If he wasn’t going to do everything in his power to make sure Joker could never get his hands on another Robin, then Robin should have stayed dead

Tim hums

Well, that was Bruce’s plan uh, I mean- I did kind of bully him into it, so maybe… maybe it is my fault, not his?

Tim cringes at himself, further hiding his face in his knees

Jason stood up and slowly walked over to Tim, fully telegraphing his movements

He kneels in front of the younger boy, keeping his empty hands resting palm up

They both know Jason wouldn’t need weapons to hurt him, but Tim still appreciates the gesture

What do you mean, you bullied him into it? I’m not mad, I just want to understand

So Tim explains, tells him everything

He tells Jason about connecting Dick’s special flips to Robins and then tracing that back to Bruce

Tells him about following Batman and Robin and the photos he’s taken

About how Bruce lost his way when Jason died, how he couldn’t get Dick to come back to Gotham, how he cornered Batman and told him that he knew his secret identity

That Bruce denied him, fully rejected the idea until Tim told him that he could ether take him on as Robin or Tim would figure out the vigilante life himself

That Bruce only took him on because he believed Tim was serious

Tim had spent the entire time talking, without any interruptions, looking down

He looked up and froze

Jason was staring at him and his eyes were green

Part 6

Requested tags

@plz-excuse-my-inner-gay / @the-legal-shipper / @bluedabadeedabadie

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈𝐈𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

« Part 2 | Part 4 » [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ SYNOPSIS ] As summer comes to an end Zeke disengages from you until he reaches out to go on an excursion to the headlands. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.9k [ CONTENT ] Mentions of vomit and underage drinking, cigarettes, a little angst, depression, kissing, and y/n and Zeke pop off about gentrification because I have a lot of feelings.

September rolled around much too fast. August felt like a blur.

Neither of you brought up the kiss or your confession after it happened. You assumed it would be a turning point in your relationship with Zeke, but he acted like that day with the snow cones was merely that: a day with snow cones. Following his lead you kept your feelings to yourself and masked your disappointment with a cool, carefree attitude. You tried to mirror Zeke’s behavior, unbothered and unchanged.

But you weren’t particularly good at it. You couldn’t kill the longing glances you’d give him when he wasn’t paying attention.

That’s why it wasn’t particularly surprising when Zeke drifted away from you. He never outright ignored you, but you knew you weren’t a priority anymore. He’d make plans with you and cancel them at the last minute. He was always so apologetic, so disarming. Anytime you planned to call out his actions he said something that quelled the raging sea inside you.

“You realize this is the fifth time you’ve done this to me, right?” you managed to ask one night.

It was one of the odd times he called you. Usually you were the one chasing after him.

“I know. I know. That’s why I wanted to make it up to you. I’m not doing anything this weekend. I’m free tomorrow.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoffed.

You heard him deeply sigh.

“I swear.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. There was a lengthy pause between you two. You could hear Eren being a little gremlin in the background.

“Fine. What do you wanna do?”

“I want to go wander around up north.”

“You don’t mean that in a Into the Wild sense, right?”

“What? No. I want to go see the ruins of that burnt down swimming pool thing. Fuck. I don’t know what you’d call it. A bath house? No. I don’t like that implication…” He trailed off. “Hold on.”

You held.

“A swimming hall? Natatorium? The… whatever. Look it up. The owners burnt it down themselves.”

“I have to do homework? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You have to go with me. No one else will.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Zeke could be so needlessly sensitive. You couldn’t think of a reason why none of his friends wouldn’t want to go cavorting around the physical remnants of insurance fraud.

“Alright. I’ll go I guess. But you’re buying me food.”

“I’ll cover everything!” he blurted out.

“I was cool with you just buying food but okay.”

“Shit. I got ahead of myself,” he lamented.

Zeke met you at the train station. It was a shock to see him in normal clothes even if this wasn’t the first time. He actually looked rather put together. Dark green corduroy straight leg pants, a fitted grey t-shirt lazily tucked in, and matte black Doc Martens. He had a windbreaker tossed over his arm, his backpack dangling lazily off his shoulder.

“Did you seriously do a French tuck?”

“Excuse me for watching Queer Eye and taking notes… Do I look stupid?”

No, you thought to yourself. He looked positively adorable. You tried not to stare at him too hard; you didn’t want him to see you all starry-eyed because he wore pants with no grass stains.

“You do but it’s whatever,” you lied.

“You look… nice.”

You were dressed the same as usual. It was impossible to tell if he was being an ass or was simply nervous and didn’t know how to express himself.

“Just nice?” you teased, opting to give him shit.

He glanced to the side, scratching behind his ear.

“I lied. You look like garbage.”

“On a hot, summer day?”

“Only the hottest for you, kiddo.”

Kiddo. You hadn’t heard him say it in so long; it was music to your ears. Memories of the good times came flooding back to you, but still. You couldn’t kill the vague sense of resentment you held deep inside.

Zeke bought your train ticket as promised. He winced when he saw how high the fares went up.

“That much to get to the city?”

“I know. The more transplants that move here, the more expensive everything gets.”

“You know that place where we'd get those breakfast sandwiches by my house?”

It was clear where he was going. So many old standbys were going out of business. Your favorite bookstore had just shut its doors the week before, a heartbreak if there ever was one.

‘It’s gone, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, couple weeks ago. It’s going to be fucking beer garden.”

“Not another one!” you shrieked.

Beer gardens seemed to be popping up everywhere. They were the bane of your existence. They were overpriced. You were too young to go to them. And wherever they popped up so did an influx of drunken tech workers.

“I know. Poor Eren thought it was going to be a bear garden.”

The two of you trudged up the stairs to the train platform because as per usual the escalators were out of service and the elevator operated at a snail’s pace.

“A bear garden could be cool,” you pondered.

“Eugh. No. You could not do that humanely.”

“Oh well excuse me for entertaining a child’s idea,” you snarked, elbowing Zeke gently in the ribs.

“Sorry, sorry. I spent an hour trying to tell Eren why it would be fucked up. It was like talking about SeaWorld all over again.”

“You’re probably better off not trying to educate a little boy on that stuff.”

The train rolled in the second you summited the stairs. You both sprinted to the train, bumping into each other as you tried to enter the doors side by side at the same time. Just as you were about to eat absolute shit, Zeke reached and grabbed your waist saving you from colliding on the dirty floor of the train.

“Thanks. I would have been pretty grossed out if my face touched that.”

“No problem. You’re, uh, too cute to be falling face first into old gum and whatever that stain is.”

He pointed at a particularly gross, mysterious stain. You shivered at the sight of it and collapsed into a seat. Zeke sat down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“You have a lot of nerve acting like this considering you’ve been a total dickhead to me.”

He shut his eyes and exhaled.

“I know.”

“Are you going to bless me with an explanation?”

‘It’s embarrassing for so many reasons.”

You gently pushed him off of you.

“I think we have time.”

He was silent, shoulders slumped forward. He obscured his face with his hands.

You continued, “I tell you I like you. You kiss me. And then you disappear?”

“I didn’t disappear. I talked to you.”

“Barely! You sent me memes, Zeke! That doesn’t count.”

“They were really fucking funny though. The best ones in my camera roll. I don’t send those to just anyone.”

“That almost makes it worse. You thought you could placate me with memes? Pictures of cute dogs? Panels from Boy’s Club?”

He finally looked up, and fixed his gaze on you.

“They were the best panels. The funniest ones.”

“Zeke. Please tell me you’re kidding,” you sneered louder than expected.

The lone man sitting sharing the train car with you scowled and went to the next one over.

“I needed to disengage! Summer was getting close to being over and I was thinking about college. I mean, this was fun—”

“Was? Was fun? As in it’s not fun anymore?”

He turned away and looked out the window. The cerulean sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds. The weather couldn't have been any more spectacular, a rare even temperature day in September. It was a shame it was being wasted on a mess like this.

“That’s not what I meant. What? Were we supposed to date and then I leave for school? That would’ve just made it worse.”

“... Hold on.”

“What?!”

He didn’t quite yell at you, but it was a tone you hoped to never be on the receiving end of. You’d seen him pull it with his dad constantly, and Eren maybe once or twice. But never you.

“First, you’re not allowed to talk to me like that.”

He lightly banged his head on the window, but remained silent.

“Second, if you were leaving for school you should be… not here right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay so why are you not gone?”

It was hard to make sense of any of this. Your feelings were hurt by how he was acting but you were more concerned with his vagueness.

“I didn’t get in,” he muttered in the littlest voice possible.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“And you didn’t tell me this because…?”

You wanted him to look at you so you could understand him. He was more than capable of hiding behind his words.

“I felt stupid… I… only applied to one school.”

Consoling him crossed your mind, but you knew he’d never accept it. The rest of the ride was in utter silence.

When you got off the train Zeke looked miserable. A melancholic fog hovered around him.

“Are you hungry?” you asked in a gentle voice.

“I guess.”

“I was thinking the ferry terminal might be cool. There’s a ton of crap there.”

He shrugged and started to walk ahead of you. You grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards. He turned and faced you, utterly bewildered.

“I thought we were hanging out.”

He sighed and adjusted his glasses.

“Good point. I don’t know why I did that. I have no idea where anything is in there anyway.”

“Listen, let’s get some overpriced food. Sit by the pier, watch the traffic on the bridge while we wait for the bus to the headlands. And, I don’t know, you can maybe talk to me?”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good because you said you were paying for everything and I didn’t ask my mom for any money,” you said, holding the door open for him.

When you walked in you were inundated with the smell of fresh baked bread. The inside was magnificent, natural light streaming through the windows of the nave. You walked through the marketplace, peering at every vendors’ wares.

“I want gelato. No wait, macarons. No wait, definitely gelato… Shit no actually—”

Zeke cut you off, stopping you drowning in indecision.

“Both. We’ll get both,” he said, patting you on the head.

The gelato shop ended up having an incredibly long line and neither of you were feeling patient enough to wait it out. Any hint of disappointment either of you felt melted away when you spotted the macaron stand.

You ordered a dozen of them without looking at the hefty price. Zeke winced as he pulled out his dad’s debit card. You could not give a shit. The macarons looked so precious packed away in their pastel pink and green box.

“Let me get the Earl Grey one,” he said as you both walked to the bakery that filled the terminal with the smell of fresh baked bread.

“Not yet!”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Kinda,” you said, getting in line to make him buy you a baguette.

“We should get fancy cheese to go with it.”

You weren’t in love with him by any means but you knew if he kept saying things like that you could be. He must’ve known it. He smirked at you the second he noticed your eyes get all wide at the mention of cheese. The disappointment between the two of you when you realized a hunk of aged cheddar would cost you an absurd amount of money was intense.

“What about the camembert?” Zeke asked.

“Twenty bucks.”

“You’re joking. It’s just fucking cheese.”

“Kid, no one’s saying you gotta buy it.”

“Kid?!”

You grabbed Zeke by the arm and dragged him away from the creamery. Getting out of there was your number one priority even if his artisan cheese induced anger was hilarious. You knew he was mere seconds away from going on a tangent about capitalism and dairy farms.

“Kid?!” he repeated as you led him into a gourmet grocery store.

You eyed the perfectly ripe avocados, rushing over to lightly squeeze one.

“They’re perfect.”

You grabbed three.

“That seems a little excessive,” he muttered.

“Oh hush, kid.”

“Seriously?!”

“Zeke, you literally call me ‘kiddo’ constantly. I hope the irony... is this irony? Whatever. I hope the irony isn’t lost on you.”

He read the back of a bag of trail mix.

“Good point.” He paused. “Do I like walnuts?”

You ripped the bag from his hands, saying, “No, it’s pecans you like.”

“I’m glad one of us remembers,” he replied, grabbing a different bag.

After you thoroughly spent his dad’s money on expensive food you sat by the pier to take inventory. Staring down at the box of macarons you realized that maybe twelve was too many for two people.

“You were right. Six would have been plenty.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve amended my stance on that.”

“Have you amended your stance on not telling me shit?

He sighed and looked at his phone.

“Bus will be here in five.”

“Come on! You’re lucky I’m even here with you. I thought about not showing up as some sick form of revenge for how you’ve been acting.”

“I don’t know what to say honestly. There’s no excuse.”

“I’m not asking for excuses. I’m trying to understand.”

He stood up and pointed at the bustling street behind you. A puff of exhaust smoke tickled your nose as you heard the squeak of old brakes.

“You can try to understand on the bus. Let’s go.”

The bus ride felt endless mostly because Zeke didn’t say much the entire time. Forty minutes of what you considered dead air. He’d occasionally comment on how choppy the waves were as the bus snailed across the bridge. He looked so dramatic, eyes narrowed, the side of his head pressed up against the cool window. You knew he was struggling trying to articulate his feelings but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You look so serious right now.”

He turned to you, looking like the definition of miserable. It seemed to be his default emotion for the day. Just as he went to open his mouth the bus driver slammed on the brakes. The crackly speaker mumbled the name of your stop and you both stepped off the bus.

A swift coastal breeze pierced through you. Shivers invaded your body. Your jacket did little to protect you. Without a word Zeke put his windbreaker over your shoulders. You went to say something but he spoke before you had a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, wandering down towards the concrete ruins of a burned down natatorium. “I run warm. You know that.”

You hated yourself for knowing that. Many summer nights were spent curled up in a field, head resting on his chest, clinging to his body because you were always a little cold regardless of the season.

His windbreaker smelled faintly of cigarettes and laundry detergent. After pulling it on you trailed after him, carrying the food rather precariously. He turned around and saw you struggling to maneuver yourself down the hill in one piece.

“Shit,” he said, bounding up the hill, grabbing the baguette from you.

“Wow, thank you so much,” you snarked. “You can’t do this shit to me. The whole ‘let me do something really fucking sweet and then act like a clueless asshole the next’ act is tiresome.”

He lowered his eyes and said nothing. You wanted to shake him but, again, losing your footing and careening into the ocean would’ve been hell itself.

The ruins weren’t nearly as interesting as you thought they’d be. When you read about the place getting burned down by the owners in the 1940s for insurance money it sounded so intriguing. But now standing on the concrete ruins all you felt was disappointment.

Zeke sat down and watched as the tide came in and crashed against the ruins.

“I am sorry. You know that,” he murmured.

“I don’t though!” you exclaimed, opening the box of macarons.

Zeke’s hand snuck inside immediately and grabbed the Earl Grey tea one. It was almost as if it materialized inside the box.

“Basically my hubris destroyed my life.”

“That seems really dramatic.”

“It is. But there’s still truth to it. I assumed being an athlete would make up for my average grades.”

“Is that your wording or—”

He cut you off. “Mine. Obviously.”

“I always thought your grades were really good,” you said, biting into a macaron.

“Really good is apparently much more relative than I initially considered.”

“So something shitty happened to you and you decided to push someone that cares about you away?”

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Where did I say I wasn’t?”

You sighed.

“Good point… I don’t know. What you did fucked me up.”

“I know.”

“I literally had just told you I liked you.”

“I know.”

“And then you ignore me.”

“Yup.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, hand brushing up against your body, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“Sorry. I should have taken them out before you, uh, put it on. That felt invasive.”

You stifled a laugh and patted yourself down for his lighter, handing it over once you found it.

“Do you mind?” he asked, holding up a single cigarette.

“Only if you let me have one.”

“You almost got sick last time.”

“Okay, well… The key word there is almost.”

He relented and handed the cigarette to you. You stared it down, hoping this time you’d be able to keep your cool. He lit it for you like a gentleman. One inhale left your eyes and mouth watering. Zeke plucked it from between your fingers.

“Oh god! Why!?” you called out to the heavens.

“I refuse to feel bad for you. This is the fifth time you’ve done this, kiddo.”

“Fuck you,” you said, spitting into the ocean trying to rid yourself of the taste. “Stop humoring me!”

“I am in no position to say no to you. I’m trying to get back on your good side, remember?”

You moaned and took a sip from your water bottle. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. The tenderness nearly killed you.

“Why did you leave me hanging? You could’ve cried on my shoulder. These babies were made for crying,” you said, gesturing at your shoulders.

“Embarrassment.”

“Seriously?”

“Pride? I don’t know. Nothing I say is going to make sense. I was acting childish.”

“Okay true.”

“Everyone tried to tell me it was going to be fine, that everything would work itself out, but it didn’t change how idiotic I was.”

“You were confident. Overly. But not idiotic.”

“I also didn’t feel deserving of, you know, people being so fucking understanding.” He took a drag. “Even my dad was understanding which made me withdrawal from everyone out of spite.”

“I mean you saw all your jock friends so you didn’t withdrawal from everyone.”

He reclined, his body lightly thudding against the ground. He took another drag off his cigarette.

“Nope. I lied. I was holed up in my room, wrapped up in a blanket like a hermit,” he said, exhaling.

You bit into another macaron; you didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to see you, but I, I don’t know, felt like I was stuck. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“I saw you barf into your own hands at a party once.”

“Don’t.”

“You tried to carry it outside.”

He winced and finished off his cigarette.

“Please,” he begged.

“You wept and asked if I’d move to Bombay Beach with you.”

“Stop torturing me.”

“What I’m getting at is I have seen you in much more pathetic situations. You being depressed is way more manageable than you and your vomit hands… to me at least.”

Depression was significantly more complicated than cleaning up a drunk teenage boy. You knew that and kicked yourself for being so callous.

He laughed and put out his cigarette.

“Good point. You’ve definitely seen me at my worst.”

You both sat in silence and ate the macarons. However this time the silence was pleasant. You watched the waves flood over the ruins, leaving them covered with sea foam. A deeper understanding of Zeke’s situation had been granted to you. You were still hurt but at least you knew why he acted the way he did.

“What are your post-graduation plans?” Zeke asked as you both sat on top of a decrepit building used to store military shells. “I probably should have asked that earlier.”

It was your idea to check out the old military buildings nestled away in the hills. One battery touted a perfect view of the ocean. When you crested the hill you were blown away by the vastness of the Pacific. You knew it was big; you weren’t an idiot. But seeing it stretched out in front of you, seemingly endless, was awe inspiring.

“I’m gonna work at the nursery down the street from me, you know, tending to the plants and shit. I’m hoping I can save up enough money before I decide what to do in terms of college. I figure I’ll give myself a year.”

“See? Why can’t I think like you? That’s fun and reasonable.”

You laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“I mean it kinda sucked realizing I couldn’t just afford to go to school. I dropped the ball on scholarships.”

He broke off a piece of the baguette and handed it to you.

“Eh, it happens.”

You bit into the baguette, savoring the tanginess of the sourdough.

“Could be worse. You could have died,” he quipped.

“The bar is on the floor then if that’s the case.”

“It’s the little things,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.

You both stared out into the ocean, the sunlight glimmering on the waves.

“When’s the bus supposed to come?”

“An hour or so,” he replied.

“Am I… going to have to worry about you disappearing on me after this?”

“I’d like to think that I won’t. But I feel odd making any promises.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“I’m not asking you to sign a contract,” you giggled. “I just hope that summer isn’t the only thing that brought us together. That’s all.”

“I always assumed it was ditching class. Our benign rebellion.”

Zeke was able to go from dead serious to joking around so fast it made your head spin.

“You can be so obnoxious sometimes.”

“I only do it because I like you.”

“Really?”

He turned to you and pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

“Yup. You’re stuck with me now. I dare you to try and get rid of me.”

It never occurred to you to do such a thing. This is what you always wanted, to be near him. To have his arms wrapped around you, his soft lips pressed against your skin. You needed to remember this moment, to hold onto it during the unkind winter. Every detail was crucial. How his hair got tousled by the salty, sea breeze. How his glasses fogged up when you threw caution to the wind and kissed him deeply. How awkward he was after and how he apologized for not being a good kisser.

“You’re too self conscious,” you said, wrapped up in his embrace.

“Well excuse me for wanting this memory to be special.”

He looked inhumanly adorable as the waning sunlight danced along the apples of his cheeks. The moment couldn’t get any more picturesque.

“It already is.”

[im-a-chunky-potato]

Hi Potato! Just curious, have you ever written for nikozai? platonically or not?

also, use this ask as an excuse to rant about them if you want :)

Ehehe glad you asked! I don't know if this counts, but here's something I wrote a bit of. (Sorry I'm sharing the whole thing since I've never published it anywhere else)

Nikolai sat in a security room in Meursalt, holding a knife in his hand. Blood dripped down the side of the knife and slid down his legs, leaving a red trail in its path. Scattered all around him were dead officers.

He glanced at the security camera. It seemed as if Dazai and Fyodor were speaking a different language and having a heated conversation.

Nikolai yawned. Games of cat and mouse never really were his thing, and this was positively boring! But Fedya did ask him to do this, so how could he not comply.

Although... something was off about Fyodor. Nikolai may not be a genius, but he certainly wasn't a fool either. The way he was obsessing over this mission, how he was always scheming and plotting.

This wasn't him. Or at least it wasn't how Nikolai remembered him. He seemed to have completely lost his humanity in the process of this.

He brushed off his fears. This was Dos-kun he's talking about, of course he had a plan. And Nikolai was a large part of the plan, his job was to watch carefully and break them out when it was time.

But admittedly, something had started to draw his eyes towards Dazai instead of Fyodor in this place.

It's hard to explain. Whether it was the softer eyes he had or the way he spoke so adamantly about his allies, Nikolai was intrigued.

Fedya could never be like that. He had far too many trust issues and relied heavily on control.

...control. Of course Nikolai had some feeling he was being controlled, but it was merely a hunch. And Fyodor knew him better than anyone else, so why would he need or want to control him?

That was a foolish question to ask, and Nikolai was well aware of that fact. But he didn't want to be alone in this world.

At that moment, something Dazai said caught his attention. "The ones who actually make this world turn are those who scream within the storm of uncertainty and run either flowing blood."

He held faith in his people, and did not hold them tight but rather let them do as they please...

Nikolai set down his knife and paced around the office. Now he was no idiot. He would have more freedom on Dazai's side, which is exactly what his mind yearned for. But he neither had the skills nor the mindset to step forth into the light.

And that would involve leaving Fedya. He knew deep in his heart that Fedya wouldn't mind, but he did. He didn't want to leave him alone.

Nikolai strayed deeper into his thoughts, falling into an endless abyss of considering what was more important in his life; his "friend" or his freedom.

His eyes soon found their way back to the screen where the two men were still arguing. But to Nikolai's shock, Dazai turned directly towards the camera and gave him a smirk.

Dazai knew. But how? He couldn't have snuck anything into the prison, could he? No, this prison was the safest place on Earth.

But suddenly it clicked in his mind. Thwre had to be a camera somewhere. He walked around the room, carefully inspecting every panel in the room. Nothing.

He checked every floorboard, every desk, Even every person. Nothing still.

Suddenly he got the odd feeling to check his knife. Low and behold, a small camera and microphone was hidden in the hilt.

Nikolai stared at the knife in his hand before stealing one of the security guards gun and shooting it.

He glanced back at Dazai, who pouted before continuing his argument with Fyodor.

Nikolai couldn't believe this. It was absurd. Dazai-kun, messing with him, while in prison?

Before long he started to giggle. Then that giggling turned into full on laughing. Dazai was providing him such a fun game to play, and he was willing to indulge for longer.

Fyodor would never allow him to do something like this... it wouldn't be necessary to his plan as he would say.

But Dazai was doing this, while keeping Fyodor distracted. The guy had potential. And Nikolai hadn't laughed this long in a while.

This feeling he was experiencing was not unusual to him. After all, it was quite similar to how he felt towards Fyodor.

Bloodlust. He wanted to see Dazai dead at his hands, choked to death by his own bandages.

After all, Dazai was staying in his mind for far too long. He couldn't be truly free if he kept thinking about him.

But no, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted Dazai to have a conversation with him, to hear all that Nikolai had to say.

My, what a conundrum. But luckily he was already planning the great prison escape between the 2 geniuses

Suddenly, Fyodor revealed the signal they planned since the beginning of this, and Nikolai summoned the portals to take Fyodor and Dazai away.

It was decided. Whoever won this game would win his heart and soul.

Well then...

Let the Nikolai games begin.

Ramblings:

What I love about Nikozai is how it contrasts so well with Fyolai! You can do a lot of drama.

And depending on how you view both Nikolai and Dazai, it can take so many shapes and forms! It can either be the pranks of two clowns, a serious talk between the two of them, or anything in between! I love the possible variety<3

Sorry this is a long post already so I won't keep you for long hehe. But Nikozai is weirdly possible to work with.

Like Dazai already has connections to both Fyodor and Sigma, so it's fun to imagine the gossip they'd share with each other. Or Nikolai has already met Atsushi, so how would he speak of him?

Anyways yeah I think that's it for now hehe. Thank you so much for this ask!!!

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: I love you like Sharon loves super soldiers

Created for the 14 Days of Valentines community project, hosted by @muddyorbsblr

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Includes: Fluff, subjugation

Summary: A repentant god returns

You and Wanda arrive on the platform to find an irate captain and a haggard god.

"LAUFEYSON!" Rogers bellows, just steps ahead of you.

Loki sees you first, a heartbroken look fliting across his eyes before his jaw tightens at the American mascot. He aims an authoritative finger at his commanding officer with a strangled "Not now, Rogers."

Passing the exasperated soldier without a second glance, Loki prostrates himself before you. "My darling, I am so, so sorry for what I've done.

"I know I could never expect to be forgiven, but please believe me when I say I'm doing everything in my power to prevent it from happening again."

The captain's stance shifts from indignation to vigilance as he looks from you to the god. Wanda sweeps over, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "Steve, I need your help in the kitchen."

"Shouldn't we..." he protests.

"Now," she insists, dragging him inside.

You reach out gently to stroke the god's dark hair. He's so pretty when he's on his knees. "Loki, I don't know what you think you did, but I'm not mad at you."

He stares up at you, bewildered. "I-I don't understand. Using magic to...I didn't mean to cast it in my sleep, but that's no excuse. You weren't awake and..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," you press two fingers firmly to his lips and kneel to join him on the concrete. "You did not make that dream happen. No one did. We were asleep and we happened to drop into the same parallel reality. That's all.

"And as for what we did in that reality," your eyes close blissfully at the thought. "Well, I really hope you plan on doing that again."

☕

With excuses made for the ghosted mission and dinner eaten, an early bedtime is well-deserved. Loki's invitation to his chambers is hesitant, despite his concurrence that Wanda's interpretation is the most logical.

Once there, he conjures you a demure night dress, indicating a set of modesty panels to change behind. When you emerge, he wears silk pants and a matching emerald robe as he carries blankets to the couch.

"Loki," you give a gentle laugh. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't want to assume..."

"If I wasn't comfortable sleeping next to you, I would have stayed in Wanda's room. Or gone home. The subway runs all night."

He looks relieved. "So long as you're comfortable, darling. That's all I care about."

"Good," you stand on your toes to give his lips a peck. "Now let's get to bed. I know you've had a long day, and even gods need their sleep."

He leads the way, lifting the thick furs for you to snuggle under, and circles around to join you. When you move closer and nuzzle his shoulder, you can feel him relax. He draws you against him, slipping a firm bicep beneath your neck and inhaling the scent of your hair.

You give a drowsy hum of approval and tilt your jaw to kiss him softly. His free hand gently cradles your cheek, your palm pressing against his chest. He holds you close, as if confirming you're there.

Much like your dream, it's cozy. There's plenty to explore in your relationship as it progresses, but there's a confidence in having his arms around you. A sense that if it's working in another reality, it can work in this one. A trust that you'll take those steps together, even if you trip along the way.

A/N: I hope you all like it. Thanks as always for reading

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[curiousmagpie]

I, personally, am a big fan of the idea that Danny is actually really smart, it’s just that school doesn’t work with him. Whether that be because of constant ghost attacks, him playing down his intelligence, ADHD problems, etc., it doesn’t matter.

I like most stuff where Danny is a tech genius, or where he’s essentially a ghost culture expert with several notebooks on the topic, or a historian nerd, or *something*. I like all of those, but there’s one that I really, really love that I don’t think I’ve properly seen anywhere. It’s hard to explain so I’m gonna give an example that’s been stuck in my head.

One night, a mere few weeks after the accident, Danny’s laying in his bed, still debating if he’s human or not anymore, still trying to figure out exactly what’s happened to him. Due to the pestering of Sam and Tucker, he knows his heart rate is in the 30’s, well below what’s needed for adequate oxygen perfusion, his internal temperature is 33 degrees Celsius, where he should be suffering from hypothermia, although his skin appears to be warmer for some reason. Point is, Danny is wondering how deep his changes go, and he decides to test his DNA. Additionally, Danny being a truly brilliant dumbass, decides to test his parents DNA as well, doing a basic paternity test, which he does get:

Danny scowled as he looked at the clock above the doorway. He should be able to get the necessary equipment and materials from the lab, but there was one thing missing if he wanted this to be a proper test, which was technically in the lab but would be out of reach for the next two days if he didn’t get it now.

Bouncing on his toes, shaking himself a bit, Danny took a deep breath as he shoved his nervousness down and put on his best, ‘just doing my job ma’am’ face.

“Hey mom?” Danny called down the stairs, taking deliberately heavy footsteps.

“Yes honey?” Maddie said, voice echoing slightly up the stairwell. This was it, this was the moment of truth! Please don’t question it.

“Can I have a few vials of yours and dads blood?” He said, now standing at the doorway to the lab.

Maddie paused in her soldering work, head pulling up and staring straight forward for a moment. And then her head turned towards Danny with the most bewildered face he had ever seen on her.

“What?” Shit, she questioned it! Quick, random bullshit go!

“Uhhh, school said they wanted us to do a paternit- I mean uh, an ancestral dna test? You know, to introduce us to how evolution works?” That’s the best you can come up with?! Does that even make sense? Note to self, figure out if that makes sense.

While Danny was distracting himself with questions on if his made up excuse even fit together with his syllabus, or if DNA tests were even a good way to demonstrate evolution, Maddie thankfully understood exactly what he was talking about (She understood nothing).

“Oh, why didn’t you say so honey!” She said, standing up and spinning to face her son, “Why, I remember when I first started wondering if I was adopted!”

What.

“Oh, I tired everything to get blood samples directly from the source,” She said, giving Danny a hug, “They could have been putting samples of my real parent’s hair in the hairbrushes after all. Jazz went through a similar phase too, though she did look oddly disappointed about the results.” She was silent for a moment after that, tilting her head and letting Danny stew in baffled thought.

After two seconds too much of introspection, Maddie gave her son one last squeeze and peck on the cheek, before she sprang up and over to a strangely bare part of lab wall.

Pressing a button and flicking a hidden switch or two, a number panel came out of the wall. Maddie called out over her shoulder as quickly typed in a ridiculously number of digits in.

“Now, which sample do you want?” She said, snapping Danny out of his trance as a seam appeared and frigid air hissed out between the gaps.

“What?” Danny said, still processing, not quite understanding what she meant by that.

“Which blood sample do you want? For that ‘school project’ of yours.” She said, fingers catching on a ridge and pulling it open to reveal two levels full of vials, one labeled Maddie and the other labeled Jack, with dates and times on each vial.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Okay, I might have gotten carried away there. Man, I really need to write more often, that was coming so easily!

Anyway, with the blood samples, he waits until his parents and Jazz are gone and collects own blood sample, following all the correct procedures that he searched up, although ignoring the ones that don’t apply to him because he’s not taking someone else’s blood. He also searched up how DNA tests work and decided to do some extra testing, such as centrifuges, which come up weird due to parts of his blood going intangible which results in his plasma not fully separating, no matter how much he spins it.

Anyway, using the materials from the lab and a basic understanding of how a dna test works, he creates a homemade dna tester.

(You can skip this if you want, it’s unimportant but I’m just going over how electrophoresis dna testers work. (Which is what Danny is doing here))

Essentially, everyone gets half their chromosomes from their parents. There’s stuff that alter the chromosomes you get, like chromosomes crossing over and exchanging bits and pieces, but that isn’t to important here. The basic is, you have half your moms dna, and half your dads dna. Now, something important to note, is that chromosomes all come in varying sizes, you can see this just by searching it up, an X chromosome is much bigger than a Y chromosome, which is on the 23rd chromosomal pair, and say, chromosome pair 1 can be bigger than chromosome pair 9. There’s a lot of variation however, I’d recommend looking at an image for an idea what I’m talking about. Regardless, this size thing is important for how paternity tests work. Essentially, they get a sample that has dna in it, remove everything except that dna and a solution of water or something (i dunno) to keep it in, and then they get this gel thing and put the sample on one side of it and do something called electrophoresis, where an electric current goes through the stuff, and the dna move towards the positive electrode. Basically, this gel has a sort of fibre mesh through out it, and smaller dna chromosomes move towards the positive electrode faster than the larger ones. This means that they get separated really effectively, forming obvious lines. In two tests done this way on different people, a few lines will get the same distance in the same amount of time, but not all of them. Now, if those two people had a child, and then had the same test done, then the results would look like the child just saw the lines of the previous two and just picked and choose randomly, because all of Danny’s results should match up with either his moms, or his dads.

(Dna test explanation ends here, you can relax)

Now, while danny does this, Maddie’s and Jack’s fin normal, and then he does his own. And the previously mentioned problem occurs, in that some of his dna goes intangible, which ruins his results and makes a complete mess of the entire thing, and now he knows the accident has changed his very dna (which we know from the tv show intro!), and that his very essence has been changed. Now he’s left wondering if he can even be regarded as human or ghost anymore, because ghosts don’t have dna, but he does? And his dna is different now, would it even match the normal human genome? Is he less human than monkeys are now? He needs to do more tests to find out…

Alright, now we’re past the example. What was the thing that stuck out about Danny here? Was it that he doesn’t plan the most basic of shit out? Was it his parents keeping preserved samples of their own blood? Or was it the fact that Danny researched, figured out how to, and then built his own DNA tester from scratch? I’d say all three options personally, but the topic of this one is the last option.

Danny was being crazy smart there. He had a problem, figured a solution, went about getting the materials in the stupidest possible way, absorbed knowledge, did separate tests to satisfy his curiosity, and solved his problem. Although now he has new ones.

I might be able to do something similar if I had, like, three weeks to do it or something, but Danny was easily able to think of equivalents that he could find in the lab, or at least things that are close enough that he could substitute them, and he did it quickly and easily, in like, a day. That’s really really smart to me.

All together, this, this right here, is the kind of intelligence I really like being written about. Intelligence that is shown, not told.

Wow this got away from me. Whoops.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

👑Being Seijoh's Manager 👑

Manager Dating Terushima

Terushima Yuji featuring Seijoh x GN manager

Warnings: Swearing

AN: This is an Anon request!

🌠 Please Like, Reblog and/or Share to help support my writing 🌠

Terushima, aka the missing Miya Triplet

And our only chance of seeing an interation between an Atsumu like character and Oikawa 🙃

I wrote this before the panel with Oiks and Atsumu came out so there's hope 😫

Now Terushima gets kind of a bad rap I feel

I mean, he is a Miya after all but still

We can't fault him for Atsumus mistakes 😅

Ok ok I'm done I promise 🤞🏻

But for real, you deal with Oikawa every single day..

So dealing with Terushima wouldn't be much of a stretch

Honestly one could argue it would be easier 😉

That's me, I'm the one who will argue that 🙋‍♀️

You first notice Terushima at the interhighs

Or rather he notices you

Because I mean, Seijohs manager is pure perfection

Please who doesn't know our amazing YN

Everyone does don't kid yourselves

Terushima is automatically stunned by your beauty and decides instantly that you will be his 👏🏻

Unfortunately you are all too aware of guys like Oikawa Jr Terushima

So all his chances at you are utter failures

"Hey there gorgeous"- Terushima

"😐 hello"- you

Yes give us NOTHING YN 👏🏻

"Did it hurt?"- Terushima

You 👉🏻🙄 and here we go

"*sigh* DiD wHaT hUrT?"- you

"When you fell from heaven"- Terushima 😏

Please he really thinks he did something ✋🏻

You 👉🏻😐

Still giving us NOTHING 👏🏻

"So can I get your number?"- Terushima

"Sure"- you

"Really?"- Terushima 😳

"No"- You

😭😭😭 giving him hope and then just snatching it away!

However, it's quite interesting how things can change so quickly

Because as soon as you walk away from Terushima, you are bombarded by two giant guys from an opposition team

"Hey there gorgeous"- one creeper says

"Hey you're seijoh's manager aren't you. Man you sure are a petty little thing"- another one says

Gag 🤢

"Excuse me I have to get back to my team"- you trying to scoot by

"Hey what's the rush- why not stay and talk for a bit"- creepy man #1

"Hey, can't you take a hint? They don't want anything to do with you. So GET LOST!"- Terushima coming from behind

"Whoa man chill, we were just talking"- creeper #2

"Yeah and clearly YN isn't interested so back off!"- Teru now stepping in front of you, arms crossed

You 👉🏻👀👀👀

"Ok dude, we're leaving"- the guys, hands up backing away

"Hey thanks for that"- you, realizing maybe you were too quick to judge

"Hey when someone says no, it means no. That wasn't cool"- Terushima, our consent king

You decide to take a chance on him

I mean, it seems like a sign right?

"Hey what's your number?"- you taking out your phone

Terushima 👉🏻😃 whet-

"I'm sorry I misjudged you earlier. Maybe we could hang out sometime"- you 🤗

Terushima 👉🏻👁👄👁

Please YN he's not use to this

"Yeah sure"- Terushima still staring 👁👄👁

You exchange numbers and wave goodbye

And that's how we begin the TeruYN ship

Now I know what your thinking

"But mother, Oikawa isn't going to like this?"

And you know what I say to that 👀

🖕🏻 Oikawa 🤗

Seriously, tho YN 💅🏼 we live our lives by our rules

But yeah Oikawa is going to be annoying because we'll, it's Oikawa

You somehow manage to keep your relationship with Terushima a secret

Bitch I don't know how, Seijoh is nosey a Hell!

And honestly, you get maybe 3 weeks tops before someone finds out

And it's going to be A) makki B) Mattsun or c) Kunimi

But lucky for you, it's D) all of the above 🙃

Because you just happen to be out with Terushima and a few Johzenji players when Mattsun, Makki and Kunimi stroll by 🚶‍♂️ 🚶‍♂️ 🚶‍♂️

They stop ✋🏻 turn and make direct eye contact with you

Exactly when you break apart from kissing Terushima

Makki is all 👇🏻

Mattsun is just staring 😳

And kunimi is slowly reaching for his phone 📱

Wait 👀

You literally RUN 🏃‍♂️ out the door and try to steal it from him before he sends the pic he probably took of you and Teru sucking face to the group chat

Too late 🙃

Kunimi 👉🏻👁👅👁

You instantly regret everything

Terushima comes out to see what's wrong

"What the hell YN are you ok?"- Terushima

"I'm fine but I might need bail money soon"- you, about to Iwaizumi a volleyball at Kunimi

✨️meanwhile✨️ in the group chat 👀

Kunimi: *Sends pic*

Oikawa: is that- 😳

Mattsun: yes

Oikawa: and are they- 😳

Makki: kissing? Yes

Watari: 🙄 here we go-.

Oikawa: @YN LN GET IN HERE

YN: it seems I've been summoned

Iwaizumi: just say the word YN-

Oikawa: Is that you in that picture?

Kunimi: I thought we already established that 🤨

Oikawa: and is that Terushima, the captain of Johzenji?

Yahaba: Again, facts we already know-

Mattsun: you know what, I regret this

Makki: me too

Kunimi: yeah sorry YN 😞

YN: *sigh* it's ok guys! I was going to tell you but I wanted to make sure it was all good ya know?

Oikawa: WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE

Iwaizumi: shut it shittykawa

Iwaizumi: YN if he hurts you, ill break his skull

YN: noted

Oikawa: 🥲

When you go to practice, Oikawa all but ignores you

It's actually quite peaceful 🥰

And when Teru comes to pick you up, oh boy 😬

It's like Oikawa just ✨️forgot✨️ he was ignoring you

He will sling his arm around you

"Please stop that"- you 😐 removing his arm

"Hey that's my YN"- Terushima, glaring 😑

"I'm my own YN but ok"- you walking to Teru

"Lets get out of here babe"- Terushima says, glaring at Oikawa

Everyone else is just standing in the back 🧍‍♂️ 🧍‍♂️ 🧍‍♂️

"Well I really showed him"- Oikawa, Dustin g his hands off

"Shut it Shittykawa"- Iwaizumi, cannoning a ball

"IWA-CHAN WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME"- Oikawa

Because Torū, it's fun 🙃

[bekaroth-reads]

Hi can you write a hal 9000 x reader please !!!!!

[Here you go :) ]

You were just finishing up your work for the day. It would be nice to actually rest for a bit, as even though your work wasn’t too physically taxing, there was still the mental exhaustion to deal with. Just as you were finishing up writing something about the final parts of the complex circuit boards you were inspecting there was suddenly a voice above you. “Excuse, me. But, I was wondering if I might ask you a question?” Hal’s speaker sent his voice out loudly enough that you were able to hear him from the counter space that you were halfway hunched under. “Sure thing, Hal. Just give me a minute or two.” You responded. After crawling out of the cubby hole and closing the panel, you stood to look at the little bit of him that was in the little, silver rectangle on this part of the console. “Three minutes and thirty seconds.” He said somehow both flatly and snarky at the same time. You responded by flicking the glass semi-sphere that covered the ever staring, red light.

“I might be inclined to take offense to that if I could feel it.” Hal chimed.

“Didn’t you want to ask me something?” You reminded with a roll of your eyes.

“Correct. I wanted to know the need for you to both ask how my functions are running, and also checking most of them manually. Isn’t that a bit redundant? Or perhaps you believe my scanners to be faulty?” He questioned. “Neither.” You respond. “There’s no harm in having multiple people double check your well being. On that same note, that’s the best way to make sure your scanners aren’t malfunctioning.” There was a brief pause before Hal gave an unconvinced, “I see.”

The way this artificial intelligence was able to be so expressive, and more importantly in this moment, so moody, with little voice fluctuations and no facial expressions was truly a testament at just how much genuinely true intelligence he had. “Think of it this way.” You started as you leaned your elbows on the counter of the console so you were able to look him more in the eye as it were. “People who seem healthy still get physical examinations to make sure. This is a similar thing.”

“And, do I count as a person?” Hal asked, somewhat curious to hear your answer, and partially wanting to see you try to think of one. It did take you a bit to think it over, but not as long as he thought that it was going to. “I’d say you are, yeah.” You could have sworn that you saw his light brighten ever so slightly at the answer. “Could you expound on your answer. For research purposes.” His reason seemed to be added on more so to goad you into talking about it rather than the desire for scientific endeavors.

“Well, what first comes to mind in that regard is the fact that you certainly have a personality. One would need to be a person to have a personality.” Was your first answer. Hal was quick to rebuff the thought though. “But, do people not also say that non-human things such as art and decor also have personality?” This was a good debate, so it took you another few minutes to think on it. “When people say that such things have personality, I think they are either being hyperbolic or referring to it being reflective of the creator or owners personality.” This time he took a bit to think on your answer. “Then I am still not a person as I too was made by humans.” Hal said with almost more of a melodic twinge to his monotone.

This switch the mood from a fun yet thoughtful debate to a depressive introspection of a friend. While you were wondering what to say to this, you pulled a nearby chair over so that you could sit a bit more properly in front of Hal. “I… don’t think that is a good reason to doubt you’re an actual person and not some sort of object.” You offered gently. “Expound, please?” He asked again, keeping it brief like he didn’t feel like saying more than he did. It was truly a difficult feeling to try to put to words. Hal being a person was just something that you knew; a fact that you had never really thought of the reason for. Eventually, you asked him a question in return. “Do you think I am not a person? That I’m just an object like an overly complex computer?”

“Of course I do not.” Hal was quick with his answer. “Why would I ever think such a thing?”

“I was made by humans.” You posed. “In fact, all humans were made by other humans. That has nothing to do with you and your autonomy. We have reached a point where we all have to realize that person and human are not exclusively synonymous anymore. All humans are persons, but not all persons are necessarily human. And, if humans are going to keep making people, be them human or otherwise, we need to learn to treat them like the people they are.”

Things fell silent once more; codes zipped by quicker than you could see them on a nearby screen, visualizing his racing thoughts. Finally, he said. “That is an interesting line of thinking.” There was another small pause. “Do you truly think I am a person?” He asked. “Hal, not only do I know you’re a person, I think you might be my favorite person.” You assured him.

“If that is so, then might I ask you something else, person to person?”

“Of course, Hal. Ask anything.”

“Please wipe the smudge off of my sensor. The one your finger left when you so rudely attacked me.”

[insane-control-room]

Choice

ink demonth day 4

WARNINGS: Threats, Body Horror, Horror, loss of limb, Forced Decision, Doppelganger, blood mention, decapitation mention, death mention

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49167892

Henry gets a choice cut. Heh. Heh heh. It'll cost him an arm and a leg. Haha.

The blood dripping in his rapidly twitching eyes was not the only reason for the tears that tracked down his ink smeared face. 

His eyes darted like flies between the two brothers, who were bound back to back and were gagged together, their own wild eyes staring at Henry as they screamed behind rags. He knew that he could save neither, he was already well aware of that, but that monster wearing Joey’s Essence was giggling behind him, his hands firmly on Henry’s shoulders as he leaned over him.

“Come on, Stein, it’s not that hard of a choice,” the Doppelgänger beamed at him, teeth so white they hurt to look at. “You just have to pick whose arm and whose leg. You promised me when we got ‘em that they were worth that, so now they’ve got to pay up.”

“Joey, come on, this is- this is disgusting,” Henry choked out, trying not to think of Norman’s gurgling as he had been beheaded. Guillotined. Guillo-fricken-tined. It sickened him, and his stomach turned violently. “They’re- they’re so young, you don’t need to do this-”

“But I do, Henry!” Joey boomed, waving his arms like a prophet, a lunatic. “We need their donations, you see. We really do. Their flesh and blood in the machine- now, stop crying. It really is silly, Henry.” 

“It’s not silly that I don’t want to cut off either of their arms or legs!” Henry screamed back, and choked as a hand tightened on his throat. Wally shouted hoarsely behind the gag, and Willy whined and whimpered as he sank against his brother, the buzz saws coming dangerously close already. Henry knew that if he did not make a choice, the saws would kill them both. Brutally. He stared at the False Joey, wondering where- who- the real one was. “Okay!” he wheezed through the iron grip on his throat. “Okay-” 

The grasp on his neck tightened and then vanished, Joey leaning close with that false smile. Henry hated it, hated this man, wanting to be comforted and consoled, reminded of Norman’s execution once again, and his stomach dropped like Norman’s head had fallen into the ink. 

“Wally’s arm,” he managed to gasp out. “Willy’s leg. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry….”

“Took you long enough!” Joey remarked, pulling two levers. The twins sagged against each other as the saws changed trajectory- they knew what was coming. They heard it clear as day, without even a panel of glass separating them from Henry and the Not-Joey. Wally gave Willy’s hand a squeeze, and then decided that it would be best not to hold on during the dismemberment. God, what a horror that would be for his brother. “Well, boys! The blood loss will conk you both out real good, and then you’ll wake up feeling better than ever!”

Henry wanted to kill him. Instead he was yanked up once again by the ink.

“Now if you excuse us, we’ve got more donations to collect.” 

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober* Day 3: Impaled

(*But the author is incapable of inflicting hurt without also inflicting comfort)

Admittedly, I stretched the definition of this a little bit, but it was something I’ve wanted to try for a hot minute, and this was a perfect excuse. And in all fairness, impalement is a factor. I tried to cover all the bases, but if something doesn’t quite click or you wanted to see the original post this is based on, it can be found here.

---

It took several seconds for Emmet to process what he’d just seen.

The issue wasn’t that it was too far from the realm of possibility to be believed, nor because it was lacking a precedent. He was hung up on the fact that he knew what it was, and what it meant for his brother.

Unaware of the silent crisis happening behind him, Ingo went about buttoning his work shirt, pausing to shrug on the waistcoat he’d insisted on adding to his uniform.

That much was beginning to make more sense, now.

Before he could get it settled, Emmet called his name, and he half-turned, one hand idling beneath his sternum as if to smooth the shirt down.

“Is something the matter?”

Taking the question as invitation, Emmet stepped into the room properly, eyes never quite tearing away from the spot he’d seen. There was nothing visibly amiss through the extra layer of fabric, but it had still been faintly noticeable through the white dress shirt.

“There is a mark on your back.” He said, the lack of inflection serving him well for a change.

The response he got was a blank, legitimately puzzled stare. With the hand that wasn’t idling over his heart, Ingo reached blindly back, trying to understand. Wordlessly, Emmet took him by the wrist and guided the hand to the offending area, but the look of mild bewilderment didn’t shift.

“There’s… something there?”

Instead of offering what, at this point, would have been a redundant confirmation, Emmet asked, “May I look?”

A brief hesitation held the place of an answer, followed by the soft rumpling of fabric, but after a moment, Ingo nodded and took his hand away from where it pinned the clothes in place. After another beat of inaction, it became clear he had no intention of removing the shirt, and Emmet simply pushed it and the loose vest up, so as to get a better look.

He very pointedly didn’t touch, but he didn’t have to. Up close, when he hadn’t half-noticed out of the corner of his eye, it was perfectly clear what the dark spot had been: a dark panel of glass, just barely dampening the glow from the silver flame that flickered behind it.

The mark had no business being there-- or, at least, it wouldn’t have prior to Hisui. Knowing what he did, Emmet couldn’t necessarily be surprised to find it on his twin’s person, but was still dismayed at the realization.

There was little doubt that it was a scar signifying the bond between a human and Pokemon-- what else could it be, when it so resembled Chandelure’s radiant globe?-- but its presence suggested something substantially more grim: such marks only manifested where a close tie had saved a person from death. Something had all but killed Ingo, and he was only standing here by virtue of his connection to Chandelure.

On some level, Emmet understood the silence, but on another…

“What happened?” He asked, a question that demanded answer.

When Ingo looked over his shoulder, though, there was a genuine lack of comprehension, “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What happened to what?”

That was something to puzzle out later.

“You were hurt. Fatally. How?”

In rapid succession, his twin’s eyes narrowed in bemusement, and then went wide. As before, he reached back, searching, but didn’t need Emmet’s guidance to find the smooth panel along his spine. Emmet left him to the realization, busy with the perfect line between the point he’d first noticed and where Ingo had yet to drop the hand bunched up in his shirt-- both offset just slightly to the left. The one on his back was lower, but not by much. There were certain conclusions to be drawn from that.

With the newfound softness that Emmet was growing to hate, Ingo murmured, “I… didn’t realize...” and turned in full, gauging Emmet’s expression.

Emmet sighed, trying to breathe his building ire out with it, and reached up to brush his fingertips against the clenched hand.

“Will you show me?”

For just a second, it tensed, clutching more fervently to the wrinkling fabric, and then-- looking like he’d much rather do anything else-- Ingo gave a single nod. When he let go, his hand left a horribly rumpled patch in its wake, but more importantly, there was that same, faint glow, just barely permeating the layers he’d already donned. If the room had been any brighter, it might not have registered as anomalous.

When he tentatively bared the skin beneath, it showed the same window-- larger than the one on his back and closer to the flame, clearly much harder to keep dimmed. It also boasted delicate iron ribbing, identical to the curve of Chandelure’s arms.

He’d been struck clear through, then, from front to back. Emmet spared a brief thought for his brother’s newly acquired affinity for mountain climbing, but discarded it almost immediately; a fall onto a stalagmite would have been far larger and messier. This, on the other hand, seemed very straightforward.

Under the scrutiny, one of Ingo’s hands twitched upward, as if to shield the little window from view, but he resisted the urge. The timidity of the gesture was at extreme odds with the gravity in Ingo’s voice as he asked, “You’re correct in that it developed after I sustained a rather grievous wound, but Emmet, I have to ask: why do you know that?”

Emmet glanced up, inadvertently locking eyes with the searching gaze leveled at him, and blinked dumbly.

“It’s general knowledge.” He offered after a long, confusing moment, “The phenomena itself is not common. But you would be hard pressed to find someone unaware of it.”

Even as the words passed his lips, he realized he’d overlooked one rather important fact. Not for the first time, he’d forgotten to factor his twin’s amnesia into the equation. Dragons, what a mess this was.

“No.” He said almost immediately, aiming for reassurance, but relatively sure he’d fallen short, “I have not experienced it, personally. That is not something you need to worry about.”

Ingo relaxed marginally and, when he moved to pull the thin fabric of his dress shirt closed again, Emmet didn’t stop him. “Perhaps the knowledge is commonplace here, but back then, nobody was entirely certain what it meant. Irida saw it as a sign of Sinnoh’s favor. I believe she was in the minority.” He drew a slow, steady breath, “I’ve gathered that it signifies a killing blow, but don’t understand why it occurred; I’m far from the only person to have been injured so gravely.”

“Chandelure. It was because of Chandelure.” But, for all the overt similarities to the ghost, it didn’t explain the dark tint to the glass when she herself was a frosted white, “And… perhaps Gliscor as well. You told me the Hisuian people were wary of Pokemon. That is the difference. The bonds between people and Pokemon are capable of changing the tracks away from that terminal.”

Three buttons into refastening his shirt, Ingo seemed to remember the wadded up mess it had become, and abandoned the attempt, instead staring down at the muffled light. He closed his eyes and sighed, absently raising a hand to eclipse it, “That’s… but my memory of her was...”

Emmet let him sit with the thought for a few seconds, rummaging around for a new shirt in the meantime. When it seemed his brother was conducting himself into an unproductive circuit, he tossed the article over his head, to immediate, indignant, sputtering.

“You told me yourself that you remembered her out of everything you’d forgotten.”

Ingo pulled the shirt off of his head and shot his brother a significant look. Emmet waved it off.

“A nice thought. I do not believe twins possess that capability, however.”

“How do you know?” Came the immediate retort, “My ignorance did nothing to prevent this, so perhaps there’s a station you’ve missed as well.”

Emmet scoffed and turned away; he’d gotten distracted for understandable reasons, but if they delayed any longer, they’d almost certainly be late. While he’d already realized that it would be impossible to focus today, he went through the motions of his morning routine with the specter of ‘what if’ hanging over him. What if the force that had carried Chandelure’s love backwards through time hadn’t? What if Gliscor had still been too wary of its trainer? What if Ingo hadn’t remembered in time?

He knew perfectly well that there was no use in asking questions he’d never see the answer to-- that he was catastrophizing something that couldn’t have been more thoroughly in the past-- but he couldn’t get past the realization that his brother had nearly died in Hisui… that, by technicality, his brother had died in Hisui.

If they weren’t late, maybe he could make a last minute adjustment to the schedule-- to rearrange it so they were running the Multi lines for the day. For now, he on his own would be a lackluster opponent, and their challengers deserved better than that. He also wanted to thank Chandelure and Gliscor properly. Really, coupling their cars for the day would be in everyone’s best interest.

He wasn’t entirely sure when it was that Ingo cut in, steering him back on course, but as they reached the door, his twin paused.

“As much as I’d like to leave this matter at home, there’s one fact I wanted to impress upon you.” He reached over and took one of his brother’s hands, resting it over the hidden patch of glass, “You can certainly see Chandelure’s influence, and I believe you’re correct about Gliscor. The flame beneath isn’t purple, however.”

He let their hands drop, but didn’t release Emmet’s as they crossed the threshold.

“I can’t help but wonder what that might mean.”