#don't touch the manager

[bluerosefox]

Phantomish Rogues

Team Phantom get ripped from their home universe into the DCverse. With no money or real ID's in this world. Now thats a problem.

Another big problem is that Danny is badly injured and his core kinda put him into a deep cryo sleep. He needs to rest and gather ectoplasm.

Bigger problem Team Phantom have no clue how to get home because they don't know how to decode the Fenton Portal blue-prints, not even Jazz who at the time didn't pay attention to her parents portal work anymore by the time they finished it. The only one who does have an idea is Danny!

Biggest problem, they landed in a place called Gotham that seems to be overrun with actual villains and heroes? (vigilantes). And for some odd reason many of them seem to find them no matter where the Team goes to hide.

Until they can get their hands on a safe space, tech, and money, Team Phantom might have to go a bit Rogue/Villainous if they wanna keep Danny safe until he wakes up.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[toadally-gay]

IRON GOLEM AS A SNAILLLL

(im seriously shocked that i locked in and managed to do the whole piece in like an hour and a half)

[teamsasukes]

Was Itachi's forehead poke to Sasuke a sign of distancing himself and not wanting Sasuke to get involved, rather than just a mere sign of affection? I saw a few people talk about that and how it's weird that Sasuke does that to his family considering the original meaning.

yes, you've got an accurate handle on the original meaning of the Forehead Poke. fundamentally it is an expression of distance that itachi wields at times when he cannot be with sasuke. and it seems to be a throughline of his childhood: sasuke asks itachi to do something as mundane as train together but itachi continually refuses on account of his duties as a shinobi.

it is not a gesture devoid of love -- it's not as though itachi ever delights in dismissing sasuke (on the contrary, he is always regretful). but there's a cruelty in the uncertainty of it all: the most direct translation is "maybe next time", so itachi fails to provide even an assurance that they can, like, hang out next week or something. this chasm between them is then widened by itachi promising, on the night of the massacre, that he might allow a final battle between them if sasuke ever proves competent enough to bother fighting, leaving sasuke in protracted pursuit of the looming specter of his older brother.

this distance is really only bridged (barely) in their final scene when itachi lays bare the truth of his motives, his regrets (which are lacking, to put it mildly, but for sasuke this is nonetheless momentous), and his unconditional pride in and love for his little brother. the Forehead Poke is notably absent here because textually, the enforced distance wrt sasuke is framed as itachi's greatest wrong. (seriously, itachi says something to the effect of: i shouldn't have done All That because maybe you, my 7-year-old brother, could have brought change to our clan... thereby reducing inconvenience for konoha, of course. the paucity of virtue in massacring the uchiha doesn't really register for him even during this reconciliation, and it's deliberate... because the author doesn't see it as much of an issue either!)

anyway, it might seem odd for sasuke to repeat this gesture with sakura in chapter 699, then, particularly because it seems to be invoked in a manner identical to itachi in his neglect. kind of an odd way to signify a happy ending for these characters, right...?

well, it works for me solely because it is not identical! and naruto's english dub is my worst enemy. i would grab a couple of manga panel screenshots in the original japanese to prove it, but it's easier for me to just plug these scenes from the anime. here is an itachi Forehead Poke (0:51) and here is sakura seeing sasuke off at the konoha gate (0:33). there's a subtle but meaningful distinction in the phrasing: "mata kondo da" vs. "mata kondo na". which, in effect, alter the meaning from "maybe next time" to:

(there's an excellent tumblr post from years ago which performs a substantive analysis of the japanese in both contexts, but eludes me now. pls send if any of you have a link to it!)

so personally i adore its inclusion in chapter 699 specifically. it obviously carries a great deal of weight for sasuke and it's meaningful he chooses to express it to sakura specifically despite leaving the entire team behind -- in lots of ways, and more than any other character, i think for sasuke, sakura is the anti-itachi. (that would require another post to elucidate.) so not only is it an expression of regret at unintended distance, but, more crucially, it's a promise of return. i think it's incredibly sweet that sasuke can repurpose the gesture from something soul-rending to something hopeful.

(also deserving of another post lol but this scene also achieves a neat and, crucially, subversive callback to sakura's foundational insecurities... it's like poetry it rhymes)

all that said, i understand why it reads as something different once we are then given the context of chapter 700 and gaiden... i dislike both of these installments, primarily for the implication that distance becomes a love language, so to speak, between sasuke and sakura/sarada. these relationships are ruled by distance and sasuke accepts it. it's disappointing! his journey to learn about more of the world in chapter 699 jibed with the character's arc until that point. this does not.

my unpopular take is i think this has just about nothing to do with sakura or the sasusaku relationship and everything to do with authorial outlook on sasuke's actions in part 2. and for the record, i maintain that these crimes ultimately amount to very little -- violence and death are occupational hazards if one is a shinobi. konoha is also foregrounded by a cold calculus on the worth of human lives; i'm sure sasuke's indispensable role in saving the world outweighs the killing of a few samurai. i just think kishimoto needs sasuke to atone, somehow, forever, via endless service to the village. and he also cannot sensibly write a kakashi- or naruto-headed government that would impose any meaningful punishment, so sasuke is relegated to a state of permanent rootlessness in some dumbass quest. it's a sacrifice on his part, but contrived for a number of reasons, chief among them being that the sasuke we came to know in the original series would literally never internalize konoha's ideals in this manner. so even though the Forehead Poke in gaiden and boruto retains the elements of promise and anticipation of eventual reconciliation, it feels kind of... lame and weightless. there is a superficial signal at growth but materially, for the parties on the receiving end of the Forehead Poke, very little seems to change.

frankly, i think we are meant to view sasuke's love as noble (and sasuke himself as penitent, suggested by the ascetic quality of his life). sasuke is still doing things differently than itachi, insufficient though it may be: he is honest about the reason for his travels, he does not rush to dismiss sarada when she needs emotional support, his motives are selfless rather than selfish (sasuke guards against the threat of the otsutsuki; itachi... wanted sasuke to kill him, in no small part as a desperate ploy to end his own suffering, notwithstanding the subsequent damage that would be inflicted on his thoroughly traumatized little brother). gaiden is surprisingly candid about the distance as a source of distress for sarada, sakura, and even sasuke, but by the end everyone understands why it must be as it is. the state above all! (you'll notice even itachi's apology to sasuke held this precept intact... there is a reason the series closes with sasuke accepting his old hitai-ate.) it is admittedly vexing, considering the totality of evidence here, to see sasuke's nomadic status in boruto pinned on how much he hates his dumb bitch wife and not, you know. the shockingly bad politics underpinning the narrative.

i appreciate the attempts of sasuke enjoyers to explain his distance as natural aversion to konoha, but this isn't canonically backed by any interiority (which seems to be absent in boruto-era team 7 at large) and moreover it requires miscommunication between sasuke and sakura (or even naruto) so great as to be unbelievable. i've accepted that post-pt2 sasuke is an unfortunate victim of kishomoto's nationalist views. his weird takes on how a man like sasuke would behave in a loving relationship and likely desire for a continued revenue stream don't help either. yes i will weep forever...

TLDR: i think the Forehead Poke fits in chapter 699 precisely because it diverges from itachi's. i resent its recurrence suggesting distance from loved ones is an inevitable condition of sasuke's life to which he's stoically acquiescent.

[fecklesheckleshacklesschmeckles]

me staring at reece shearsmith: a statistical analysis

70%: he pretty :3

30%: trying earnestly to comprehend how young reece and old reece are the same person

[skibasyndrome]

.

[un-merle]

The good thing about being a translator by day and a hobbyist artist by night is I get to be angry about genAI 100% of the time.

[fidgetspringer]

I knew my old place of work treated us like dogshit. I knew England treated minimum wage workers like they're less than human.

But nothing has driven that fact home more than telling my new coworkers about what Tesco was like and having them look at me in absolute horror.

[caliburn-the-sword]

emma made me viscerally uncomfortable from season 3-6 and the reason is because it was like watching a barbarian multiclass as a cleric. like girl stop with the magical energy blasts!! just hit him with your sword!!! punch him in the face!!!!

[tellescope]

@adoranoia { continued from here }

     Good, Otacon had been the right person to ask. This isn't something he can figure out on his own with the overload of options. Trial and error won't cut it here. And they make pretty good points about genres. Which means his shrug in response feels kind of half-assed. ❝I guess both could work?❞      If video games are like interactive movies then he probably would be familiar with action games. Do stealth games exist? But then again like Otacon said, maybe something further from home would be better.      A low grumble and shake of his head. Frankly he doesn't see the point. But after the truth came to light his friends had collectively decided to show him the things they'd missed about civilian life. Things he's never known. It's a process.      Stubborn ass Dave couldn't just pull up some favorites though. No apparently Snake had to figure this out on his own. Something about influencing tastes. Well where's he supposed to start when he knows jack about shit here? So he'd gone elsewhere for help. Does Solid play games?

     ❝I've never used a controller but I'm a fast learner.❞ Just a warning if Otacon is expecting some basic level of knowledge here. ❝Spent most of my life in a warzone though. Maybe the casual one first?❞ Even if he is badly floundering at civilian life. Could be he's better at it virtually. That'd just be sad.      Head tips enough to get a glance at the game up on Otacon's screen. ❝So what do you like then? Do people make anime games?❞ As good a guess as any with what he knows.

[mezzmerizd]

Oh my fucking god i just realised that if i switch to a new phone literally ALL of my writing will be gone,,,

^^^ uses samsung notes like a goddamn lunatic

[bedlamsbard]

feels like the tap water here shouldn't taste salty but what do I know

[beevean]

This scene was supremely uncomfortable to write.

~

A certain vampire hunter named Belmont had stepped foot into Wallachia. Hector had never heard of such a clan, but Lord Dracula hissed the name with hefty wariness, and every creature in the room knew that he was no trifling meat to mince: this Belmont could be a genuine danger to the castle. Isaac had noticed him, apparently, and eagerly reported the news to their Lord like a dog bringing a stick and expecting a treat in return.

In that moment, Hector knew. He had to prove himself.

It was not hard for him to enter back in Lord Dracula’s good graces. A few apologies that meant nothing, a couple of languid smiles that cracked his lips, and it was as if their last “conversation” had never happened. He kept his promise. Hector had always been special to his Lord, after all.

As his chewed, dried out remains laid there, cast away as he had fulfilled his purpose, the one thing that pushed him on his feet and dragged him through the vast hallways was the mirage of the forest stretched for miles.

He wanted to die so much.

No. One step further. He had to live for a little longer. Death would not take his soul so long as Lord Dracula held his leash; Hector would not allow it. After he had broken his leash, anything could happen to him. He would die soon, that much was certain; at his Lord’s hands, under the jaws of his loyal hound, or because eventually his body would give up on him. But as long as his grave could be a shallow hole in the forest, far from the enormous castle that used to be his home, he could take another step.

(I’m yours, he had sworn. He did not feel guilty for lying to his Lord, for leaving the kiss of Judah on his blood-caked hand. I can handle the Belmont myself, he had promised. He did not feel guilty for going behind Isaac’s back and taking away the one chance for him to prove himself. He was the lowest kind of sinner: it was what he was born for. He, too, could devour them to the bone. They would both be proud of him.)

« Don’t you look at me like that, » seethed Isaac. Hector started: when did he get back to his room? He didn’t notice himself applying healing oil on his neck. « I asked you a question. »

Hector wasn’t even looking at him, really. He just happened to be in the way of his gaze.

« I wasn’t listening, » he mumbled, hoping that Isaac would leave him alone and knowing he wouldn’t. And right as expected, everything fell into place: Isaac’s cutting glare, the tensing of his shoulders, the smell of a storm approaching. Hector had played the script one too many times.

« Of course you weren’t. Why would you? »

« Don’t start, Isaac. »

« Or what? Are you going to cry to Lord Dracula that I upset you? »

« I’m not being the child here. »

« Excuse me? » Isaac bristled. « Who gave you the right to speak to me this way? »

« According to your logic, Lord Dracula. »

At that, Isaac lunged at him; Hector flinched, body ready to receive a slap, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that Isaac had stopped in an awkward position, with his arm half-raised and teeth bared in a snarl.

Hector was less than grateful for Lord Dracula’s distant protection on his body. He wanted that slap, now. Not to make Isaac happy in his misery, but because it would break one of the many walls between them.

The man’s attention was caught by the fresh bites on Hector’s throat; he had a knack for spotting them, unless Hector buttoned his collar so tight that it clasped on his neck. Now, slick with ointment, they were in full display, the ghost of Lord Dracula hovering between the two of them.

Perhaps, the more he bit them, the more part of himself he infused in their bloodstream. Perhaps that was the reason Isaac passed a thumb on Hector’s scars, with an ugly mixture of scorn and fascination.

(What did that make of Hector?)

« I’m surprised you haven’t dropped dead yet, with how often our Lord feeds from you, » Isaac commented with the impression of aloofness.

« Why do you care? » One last chance.

�� What does your blood have that mine doesn’t? »

Hector pursed his lips.

Interpreting his silence the Lord knew how, Isaac replied to it by jamming a long nail in a particularly sore bruise; Hector hissed, and his hand slapped Isaac’s away before he could think of doing so.

And the fuse went off.

« Stop looking at me like that! » Isaac’s face went as red as his hair. « Like I’m not worth a damn! Just because you’re the Lord’s favorite it doesn’t make me inferior to you! »

Hector had planned to leave quietly, without rousing suspicion. He was ready to leave Isaac behind without thinking twice about what he had planned to do; he couldn’t delve too deeply into the consequences. He could still walk past Isaac and ignore him, slam the door shut, leave him out.

The words rose from his throat before he could recognize them for what they were.

« Then perhaps you should do more to be worth something. »

« What…? »

« What are you doing, Isaac? Slacking behind and stubbornly beating your head over the wall instead of listening to me. Crying that Lord Dracula won’t praise you and taking it out on me. Pushing me aside except when you need a warm body. Why should I feel sorry for you, when you treat me like dirt under your heel? »

Hector’s own voice sounded distorted to his own ears, jagged and unpleasant. As unpleasant was the visceral pleasure that seized him at vomiting the thoughts he had buried deep for far too long, at the sight of Isaac’s eyes growing wide and him stepping backwards, away from him.

He should apologize. He would never apologize. Isaac deserved to hear that.

But his surprise lasted for far too little, and he counterattacked:

« You… You would be food for the zombies were it not for me! You threw me away the moment I was no longer useful to you! The only reason Lord Dracula is even sparing a glance towards you is because I felt sorry for you first! I was ecstatic when you came here to study the dark arts with me, I thought you’d be… » A crack where weakness should have been. « How could have I imagined that you would have ruined everything? You are standing on my shoulders and basking in all the glory, and have the gall to pity me! That’s all you care for, selfish bastard! »

Oh, if Isaac thought Hector would fold like he would have in the past, he had no idea of how utterly sick of it all he was.

« I don’t want the glory! I don’t want any of this! » How could ever be happy to be a toy, to be coated in his Lord’s sick touch and sicker lies and expected to be grateful for it?

« Our Lord adores you more than anyone here, more than His own son. What more could you possibly want? What else does the universe owe Saint Hector, for him to finally be happy? »

Why couldn’t he have asked sincerely? Why couldn’t Hector trust whom he thought was his closest companion? He did want, and he wanted too much for him to burden alone: he wanted more of that sorry excuse of an existence, he wanted to cleanse himself, he wanted to live, he wanted out!

He wanted a friend.

« I’m tired, Isaac, and you never noticed, because all you can think about is Lord Dracula. » He would not wipe any tear. Not in front of that man who would devour him at the first sign of fragility. « If I spoke, would you listen to me? Have I ever mattered to you? »

« What you want doesn’t matter. You don’t matter more than Lord Dracula. Don’t you even insinuate that. »

The lack of an answer burdened in Hector’s chest. He wished he could be furious at it.

« I would never. Your world begins and ends with Lord Dracula. »

« And that is how it should be! For being Lord Dracula’s favorite General, you are obnoxiously dense! » Isaac spread his arms like a proselyte. « We were born and made to be His tools to wield. I am honored to be used by Him! I do not need a reward, unlike you: it’s about loyalty! It is the bare minimum of gratitude I can show towards the only person who has ever cared about me. »

Hector took the jab in silence. He would not try to defend himself.

« Do you think he does? »

Isaac stammered. « More than you! »

Is that so.

« You are the worst kind of liar and hypocrite. » Hector dug his nails into his palms, and willed his arms to stop shaking, even though he wanted to hit Isaac so hard. « You say that you’re loyal, but are you really? Because if you were, you’d stop crying and accept how things are! You would accept that Lord Dracula doesn’t give a shit about you! »

« Shut your mouth! How dare you speak in contempt of our Lord?! »

« I don’t care! I am talking about you! » Hector yelled with more force than intended. « If you were a weapon like you claim, you would not be here with tears in your eyes because I’m trying to make you reason. Why do you refuse to see reality? »

« Oh, do you now? Are you speakings from the heavens now? » In the light of the candle, Isaac’s tired eyes flashed a sickly yellow; with his gritted teeth and bulging veins in his neck, he looked less and less human the more he spoke, unrecognizable.

« You make me puke, Hector. Look at you, with that disgusting veneer of superiority, even placing yourself above Lord Dracula… You dare talking about reality? Well, the reality is that you are nothing more than a selfish little boy with an inflated ego, spitting in the plate he’s been eating, expecting to be worshipped because you gift us with the air you breathe on us. » He jabbed a finger on his chest as if to bore it: his hand, too, was trembling. « Never forget that when we met, you wouldn’t even talk, you were that afraid of me. You are here, looking down on me like I am your damn scullery boy, because Lord Dracula tasked me with making something worthwhile out of you. And right now, I am so close to breaking your nose to teach you the lesson you deserve, and then we’ll see how perfect you are. »

Hector let Isaac talk without interrupting.

He should have been offended, he knew it. He should have sworn that he never thought Isaac was inferior to him, he did it all by himself. Somehow, Isaac’s words reached him like a vision through a foggy glass: he had a vague inkling of what they could be, but they didn’t leave an impact.

He, on the other hand, yearned to leave an impact, for once.

« But you won’t do it. Because you are terrified of Lord Dracula not loving you. »

Why wasn’t he furious? He wished he could shout like Isaac, have his heart hammering in his chest, be completely engulfed by rage like flames devour a house. The man in front of him no longer stirred his heart.

What grew louder inside him, instead, were the echoes of his demon friends, always within him as they had never abandoned him – no, he had allowed himself to become them, and just like back then, just like when his mother dared to hurt him… Isaac deserved a lesson.

« I used to be afraid of the world around me, yes. But you are, right now. You are so, so scared of ending up alone and unwanted that you do everything in your power to make sure no one wants you and loves you first! You will drag everyone down in your misery, because it’s easier than clawing your way out! Forget about me – why do you think Lord Dracula would ever love a thing like you? »

And Hector kept talking, and talking, his words a river in flood; he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, his voice spilled out of him like it was edging at the rim and it couldn’t wait to get out:

« You are a doll to Lord Dracula. You’re a cute toy to play with before putting it on its shelf, once he gets bored of you. You will never be anything more than a thing! And it’s all because of you. You chose to be a thing to be used and thrown away, because, because… because you truly believe you don’t deserve better, I suppose, and when I tried to convince you that it was not the case, you rejected me, because it scared you. You broke yourself into pieces for him, and it was for nothing, and now you’re angry, and you don’t want to admit it, so you thought you could break me with you. »

Isaac recoiled at every word like they were physical blows, and the more he acted like that, the more Hector felt the desire to twist the knife even further, because Isaac only roused desire in him when his eyes shone with bitter tears: he looked like the human he refused to be.

« You are nothing more than a pathetic, miserable thing, and you could have been so much more! I had always admired your passion, your wit, your knowledge! I thought myself so lucky to call you my friend! But there’s none of that in you anymore. You call yourself a weapon, but no, you’re a puppet. Who loves a puppet? Lord Dracula doesn’t need it. I don’t need it. »

And who cared if Hector no longer believed in that axiom, that the both of them had to earn their Lord’s love somehow? Hector had grown past that, but Isaac didn’t, still a child clinging onto the breeches of his father, and Hector felt vile and so satiated in plunging his fangs in Isaac’s heart to tear it to pieces, he would see how it felt, to be weak and powerless and despised! If he wanted to experience Lord Dracula’s love, then by all means, Hector would be all too happy to oblige!

« S-shut up… »

« Don’t you believe me? Why do you think that Lord Dracula refuses to give you all the love that you crave, but he’s forcing it on me? Whose fault is that, Isaac? What did I do, other than exist? »

« Exactly that, » Isaac snarled, and the sobs did not soften the spikes in his words. « Do me a favor, and go die in the next mission. Filth like you should have never been born in the first place! »

The air froze.

No one spoke. Isaac was panting, but Hector could not understand what he was thinking, he could not recognize his face. His head hurt as if Isaac struck a blow and his vision wobbled. It was not a moment too soon that Isaac spun on his heels and fled, and Hector let that stranger march out of his room.

The same mouth he had used to rip Isaac to shreds was covered in ashes. With numb fingers, he touched Lord Dracula’s marks on his throat, where he had ruined him. He decided it was time to go to bed. No map could have taken his mind off the flames dancing behind his eyes.

That night, Isaac left Hector alone, as he wanted.

He tossed and turned around in a freezing bed until the crows cawed and all of his focus had to go on the most important mission of his life.

There was no turning back.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, First Time, Oral Sex, Dominant Bottom, Topping from the Bottom, Gentle Sex, Praise Kink, Soft Dom Dick Grayson, Control Issues, Unrequited Crush, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Dick Grayson is Batman Summary: Damian is pent up, lashing out, and Dick is just about at his wit's end about it. When he tries to talk to Damian about it, he learns that Damian is suppressing his own ruts to have some form of control over himself. Dick convinces Damian to give up control to Dick, instead. - Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 7: Free Day

[orangetintedglasses]

( Just tweaked Star's 'about' page some-- including a blurb about how he's tactile, but not 'cuddly', and I feel like I should elaborate on what I think that means? Star is pretty much the opposite of cuddly for the most part, given his natural inclination towards movement and squirming, and while he can be cuddly with the right people... that's just kind of it, it has to be with the right people. People he's deemed safe or established an interest in first via light touches and reciprocation.

And the man absolutely actively shies away from people who force physical affection on him when he hasn't displayed it with them first. Obviously there can be exceptions to this-- he's definitely weak to MW, and other Vashes get an immediate pass because of the instant connection he specifically feels with them --but for the most part, it's kind of like cat rules. Gotta let him establish it first or else he's just gonna nervously tolerate it and feel uncomfortable. )

[lamortwrites]

I love my cats very much