#sorry about this ive just got a lot of feelings

[atoriv-art]

what are your thoughts on the hyuga siblings and their relationship

OOF now thats one of my favorite naruto dynamics lmao. i think neji and hinata have a very interesting relationship and i say that as someone who really didn't (and tbh still doesn't) love how that relationship developed in canon

i really like the hyuga fight in the chunin exams because the way it's perceived is sooo interesting to me.. neji comes off as an outright bully and i don't even blame the kids for calling him an asshole after all of that, but from reader's perspective it's really obvious that his animosity only exists because of a larger issue...

neji shouldn't treat hinata the way he does, but he does so because of her unique position as a scorned heir. she still benefits from everything that makes his life awful - her life is still valued more than his - but hiashi hates her enough that he won't care if neji dishes out verbal abuse on her. it's an awful dynamic and definitely contributes to hinata's terrible self-worth, but it's a symptom of the life they have been forced into by the man who the manga is intent on letting escape all of the blame for this situation lmao

(hiashi himself can be a really fascinating case honestly. i think he fully means everything he says, which is what makes him so grating but fun to me LOL. his apology to neji is entirely sincere AND it completely misses the point of all of the issues, but neji is young and deprived of acknowledgement enough that he accepts it wholeheartedly. hiashi thinks he's the best uncle of all time.)

hinata herself has so little belief in her own worth that she just sits there and takes whatever abuse people throw at her... i don't actually think neji's anger towards her was a constant - i think some people interpret it that way - rather i feel like it was something that came up whenever he was pushed too far. in more normal circumstances where he's not being made to fight her directly, he was likely more detached than anything. he wanted nothing to do with her.

in one of the filler mini arcs ive mentioned before (i think. the one that focuses on hanabi and hinata) there's a scene that rang very true to me (and im gonna recount this without rewatching it atm so sorry if i get details wrong,): neji was being made to train with hinata, asked to be allowed to leave because he felt his time was being wasted and correctly noted that it doesn't have to be him here, was told no by hiashi and then he started getting vicious and violent. towards hinata, of course, not hiashi. he then got horribly punished for it LOL i think that's the general dynamic they were living in, neji reaches a limit of disrespect that he can take and explodes on the nearest most acceptable target (we loove a boy with no emotional regulation <3), goes too far and suffers the consequence of it while nothing else changes. to him interacting with hinata at all is just asking for pain, either emotional or straight up physical

But, for hinata, she saw herself and neji as similar (the black sheep of the family i suppose), and would have liked to bond over that fact; theyve known each other since they were very little and she outright refers to him as a brother. it's clear to me she's always cared a lot about neji and imo feels responsible for what happened to his father (something that hiashi doesn't help with. Dad of the year), so she saw their match in the exams as a chance to close the distance between them and get neji to see her as a person, an equal instead of a symbol to lash out on.

but, you know, she was 12 LMAO so she ended up pressing all of his buttons instead and it led to his famous outburst, which led to the famous moment of Every Single Jonin (other than asuma.) coming to stop him and further cementing his belief that her life is seen as special. i think (and this is a mix of Shit I Made up, and Me trying to make sense of the manga's insane mishandling of their plotline) that despite her trying her hardest to reach neji she didn't really grasp the horror of his situation. that's the tragedy of neji's life really LMAO, no one really tries to grapple with the severity of what having that curse mark does to a person. she thought of his fatalism as more of a psychological, metaphorical way of dealing with hurt and not like... "my life literally does not belong to me no matter how much i try to fight it"

this is loooooong take this readmore.

i think hiashi-hizashi were hoping that the cousins could have had a better relationship than they did... letting them hang out often and stuff, introducing them early, hizashi not discouraging neji from being friendly with her, to me it all reads as very "ok well this didn't work for Us, but what if it works out for them... even though literally nothing has changed". they were proper family once and hizashi wanted to die for his brother, not his leader, so that just makes sense to me.

i do nautttt like the naruto vs neji fight so to keep the post positive i will gloss over it <3 but hinata and neji's relationship post-chunin exams to me is peak like. God i wish this was done better because it could have been soooo good

neji realizes that his anger is consuming him and adjusts his behavior accordingly, getting a lot of his kindness back, and he becomes intent on fixing his relationship with hinata... i don't hate that premise at all, it's just the way it's executed that bothers me!

the impression i got (and i could be mistaken im in the process of rewatching the anime + rereading the manga) is that their relationship getting better is done exclusively through like. neji repenting for being mean to her. which, don't get me wrong, he SHOULD apologize (AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN A COOL THING TO SEE ONSCREEN, BTW) but you CANNOT divorce his behavior from the hyuga system in general. from the way they act after the exams you would think their issues were born solely from neji being a bully for no reason, and not, like... him lashing out on her because his uncle is literally the devil.

i don't think hinata has the power to change a lot in her clan on short notice (she did get disowned. did that un-happen offscreen? we will never know. Hiashi gets to be a grandfather to her children btw.) but i certainly would have liked to see her standing up for branch members and in the stuff i draw that's the story i have in mind LMAO. like, her gaining a deeper understanding of neji's situation and trying to work against her father trying to make her cousin's life better? i think that would have been really sweet and even show her gaining more confidence in herself and her beliefs. you can still have neji fussing over her and being protective because he feels bad for how they used to be, i actually really like that because neji IS a very sweet person, i just reject the idea that it's his sole Moral Obligation to put everything aside and make things better by the power of I Will Die For You Now, But This Time, For The Right Reasons

as for hanabi i wish she had more screentime soooo bad because i'm obsessed with how she gives off Haunted Child vibes lmfao. talking abt her requires me to expose myself a little bit and have to admit hiashi is kind of a blorbo to me because of how much he sucks ass, but like. Essentially his insane resentment of hinata was born when hizashi died, it doesnt matter it wasn't really her fault, he needed someone to blame and he would never blame himself, at least not outwardly lol. hiashi did genuinely love his brother, it just didn't stop him from being a monster to him, and he is certainly not gonna grapple with that now that he's dead!

(and, you know, the whole "sorry we sent a guy to kidnap an heir. you do need to die for killing him though" thing is really dumb but if we stop at every single stupid thing in naruto we will be here all day.)

with all that being said i think hiashi tries his best to make hanabi everything hinata isn't, and he has very little interest in having her and hinata have any bond at all. he just left neji and hinata to fester in that god-awful dynamic with no supervising, and took hanabi as the best direction for the clan to head towards. but, you know, father of the year is very demanding and doesn't seem to be very fatherly to her at all from the little we see of them. she's just like. a good soldier, and that's what he needs.

i think hanabi growing to resent her sister for the situation she's been put into (if hinata weren't 'weak' she wouldn't have so much responsibility) is very interesting! by the time we meet her i think she's learned that the best thing to do wrt her sister is to just ignore that she exists. as for neji he barely registers as a presence to her; neji has no reason to interact with her and hiashi has no reason to incentivize it. it's very fun to me!

in general i really like all of their dynamics can be used to explore how hurt and trauma drive people apart, i could talk about them for hourssss LMAO i love the suna family for the same reason!

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV, Part V ,Part VI

Warning/themes : slight smut, eating out , submissive Vi? fluff, mentions of death, breakup, a lot of angst

Word count : 5.2k

The sunlight peeked through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Soft beams of light brushed against your eyelids, urging you to wake, though the true warmth came from the arm draped around your waist. Vi’s arm. Her touch radiated a soothing heat that sent shivers up your spine, a perfect contradiction—toughness softened by care. You stirred slightly, careful not to disturb her as you let yourself savor the moment. Slowly turning to face her, your gaze fell on her features. Relaxed, unguarded. Her usually sharp eyes were hidden behind thick lashes, her expression softened by sleep. She was stunning like this—her wild strength quieted in a way only you got to see. A tender smile tugged at your lips as flashes of last night filled your mind. It had been perfect, raw, and real. It had reminded you what safety felt like in another person’s arms. And yet, beneath that warmth, there was the weight of your secret. Was it selfish to want to stay? To hold onto this joy you’d found? Maybe. But after everything, didn’t you deserve this? The guilt crept back in anyway. You knew the clock was ticking. You’d either have to tell her the truth… or walk away before the truth could destroy her. Lost in thought, your fingers brushed gently over her cheek, tracing her jawline. She stirred at your touch, shifting closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her lashes fluttered, and when her eyes opened, the sight of you brought a smile to her face.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased softly, the words almost catching in your throat as her sleepy gaze pulled you in.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm, making your heart stutter. She tightened her hold on you, pulling you closer, skin against skin.

You felt a rush of heat as your bare body pressed against hers, every inch of her setting you alight in ways that should’ve been illegal. Still, you fought to keep your head clear, though it wasn’t easy when Vi was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing in the world.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, your voice soft but unsteady.

Her grin was lazy as she tilted her head into the pillow, never taking her eyes off you. “Like a rock. Haven’t felt this peaceful in… forever.” She wasn’t shy about her feelings, and that honesty made something ache in you.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “Yeah. Me too,” you whispered.

Her lips curved slightly as you leaned closer, pressing your nose to hers in a playful touch. She chuckled quietly, her fingers brushing along your spine. This was everything, you thought, in that moment.

No. You couldn’t lose this. You wouldn’t. You’d figure out what to do about your secret later. But for now, you pressed another kiss to her lips and let yourself sink deeper into this fragile happiness, as if it could last forever.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, the sound barely cutting through the gentle rush of the shower’s water. You hesitated, searching for the right way to explain yourself. “For earlier... I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Vi’s hands, which had been tracing lazy patterns on your hips, stilled. She tilted her head, her eyes searching your face as if to make sense of what you were saying. You felt the heat of her gaze even through the cascade of water dripping down your skin.

“I just... I didn’t know how to bring you into it,” you continued, swallowing hard. “I needed to handle it on my own. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, or worse, that I didn’t want you.” Your voice cracked on the last part, the vulnerability in your words catching up to you. You looked up into her eyes, feeling that all-too-familiar lump rise in your throat. “The truth is...” Your fingers brushed against her face, sweeping wet strands of pink hair away from her eyes. “Every second I spent without you, you were all I could think about. All I wanted was to be here—with you.”

Her expression softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away like ice thawing under the sun. She let out a soft exhale, like she had been holding her breath without realizing it.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice low but steady. “Sometimes, you gotta chase your own monsters. But,” she added, her tone firmer now, “if we’re doing this, I need you to know you don’t have to fight them alone. You have me now. You’re not alone anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, warm and grounding. The gesture made your chest ache, equal parts love and guilt.

“I know,” you whispered. “I'll tell you once I sort things out. I promise.” The words spilled from your lips, a promise that felt like both a lifeline and a noose.

Vi studied you for a moment longer, as if gauging whether or not to believe you. Then, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Good,” she murmured, brushing her nose against yours before planting a soft kiss on your lips. Then she stepped back slightly, her hands trailing over your waist. “I’m starving,” she said with a playful grin, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she looked at you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Shower first,” you countered, grabbing the edge of the blanket you had draped around you. Before you could fully wrap yourself, Vi’s hand shot out, tugging the fabric loose. Her grin widened as she let her eyes roam over your bare body without shame.

“You don’t need that in the shower,” she teased, her voice dropping slightly.

“Asshole,” you muttered, turning your back to her, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You felt her gaze linger on you, heavy and unyielding as you stepped into the shower.

The water was hot, almost scalding, but the sensation was drowned out the moment Vi slipped in behind you. Her body pressed firmly against yours, her hands finding your waist again as her lips began trailing soft kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Vi,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to be a warning.

She hummed against your skin, her grip tightening as she murmured, “Just let me.”

You reached for the soap, a playful smirk curving your lips. “Let me help,” you said, turning around to face her.

Her lips quirked up, but she didn’t argue, placing her hands on the wall of the shower and letting you take the lead. You ran the soap along her shoulders first, marveling at the strength beneath her skin. As your hands traveled lower, they lingered over her tattoos, tracing each intricate line with quiet admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly, your fingers moving down to the small of her back.

Vi glanced over her shoulder, the smile on her lips softer this time. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked,” she teased.

You laughed quietly, but your reply was earnest. “No, Vi. I mean it.”

Your arms slipped around her, drawing her closer as you lathered the soap along her collarbone and shoulders. The water rinsed away the suds, leaving nothing but her soft skin beneath your touch. Standing on your toes, you pressed a kiss to her neck, your lips finding that spot just beneath her jaw that made her shiver. Her breathing hitched when your hands moved lower, brushing over her breasts. You massaged her gently, your thumb circling her nipple. A low sound escaped her lips, barely audible over the shower’s steady . Without breaking the rhythm of your movements, your hand slipped between her thighs. She gasped, her hips instinctively shifting forward as your fingers glided through her wetness. You found her clit easily, the slick heat of her core guiding you, and began to massage slow circles that had her trembling against you.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her voice deep and raspy. One of her hands braced against the shower wall, while the other reached back, gripping your hip for support.

Her breathing grew heavier as you continued, her moans growing louder with every movement of your hand. When you leaned up to whisper in her ear, your voice was a husky murmur. “Let me taste you.”

She looked at you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was as much a “yes” as it was an invitation to take everything she was willing to give. Your heart pounded as you sank to your knees, the water cascading over both of you as your lips trailed down her stomach. She watched you, her darkened gaze heavy with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as anticipation built. Your tongue slid over her wetness, slow and deliberate, drawing out each movement as if savoring her taste. Vi's head tilted back against the tiled wall of the shower, and a soft groan escaped her lips. The water poured over her skin, mingling with the heat that radiated from her, steam filling the space around you. Her fingers tangled in your damp hair, tugging just enough to show she wanted more-no, needed more.

"You're driving me crazy," she whispered, her voice strained with desire, thick and breathless. That was all the encouragement you needed. Your hands gripped her thighs, firm yet soft, pulling her closer as you explored her with your tongue, dipping lower, deeper, tasting her as she came undone above you. Every moan, every quiet whimper from her made your pulse race, igniting a fire in your chest that only she co rause.

"Fuck," she groaned, her hips instinctively grinding toward your mouth, "Don't stop."

You hummed against her, the vibration making her shiver. You took your time, letting your tongue trace every sensitive spot, every inch of her that made her shudder. You wanted her to know that she wasn't just safe with you - but utterly worshipped. One of your hands moved from her thigh, finding her clit with practiced precision. The light brush of your fingers against her was enough to make her legs tremble. She pressed a hand harder against the wall to steady herself, her breathing uneven. Her wetness dripped onto your tongue as you worked her over, the taste of her more intoxicating with every stroke, every flick, every press , she was delicious. Your fingers picked up pace, moving against her clit in time with the thrusts of your tongue. Vi's body started to tense, her moans turning louder, rawer, echoing in the small space.

"Right there," she gasped, voice breaking. Her free hand gripped tighter in your hair, the pressure grounding you, urging you on. "Oh my god-, right there." Her hips bucked against your face as she lost control, her entire body trembling under the build-up of tension. She was close-you could feel it in the way she started to unravel, her muscles tightening beneath your hands.

"Look at you," you whispered against her, your voice low and teasing but filled with admiration. "You're so perfect when you let go for me."

That seemed to push her over the edge. Her legs nearly buckled as the first wave hit, her back arching, her breaths shallow and uneven. "Oh shit— oh fuck," she moaned, louder now, fully giving in to the pleasure you'd built up inside her. You didn't stop, riding the crest of her orgasm with her, tongue still teasing, fingers still massaging until she was trembling, her body wracked with wave after wave. Her cries became softer but no less intense, her hand pulling you closer as if afraid you'd stop too soon.

Finally, she let out a shuddering breath, her body slumping against the wall, spent but glowing. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and when her gaze met yours, it was soft, filled with something beyond lust-something raw and tender.

You stood, kissing her stomach, her collarbone, her lips, until you were face to face again, her arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

She chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. " You might've ruined me for breakfast."

You laughed, the sound filling the steam-heavy shower, your foreheads resting together as the water poured around you. For now, it felt like the outside world couldn't touch you. Only Vi mattered, only this.

And maybe, just for a little longer, you'd let yourself believe it could stay that way.

“Are you sure that’s the right way to do it?” you giggled softly, watching Vi wrestle with something unfamiliar in the kitchen. Her sleeves were rolled up, her brows furrowed in the most endearing concentration.

“Shhh, don’t underestimate my abilities,” she shot back with a grin, deflecting your playful jab as she kept working.

“Okay, my bad,” you surrendered, sliding into the chair by the counter, eyes trailing her every movement. “But… I still think I’m the better cook,” you teased with a smirk, unable to resist.

Vi paused just briefly, arching a brow in mock disdain. “Well, yeah,” she fired back, the sarcasm rich in her voice. “I didn’t exactly hone my culinary skills in prison. So, let me enjoy the process, alright?”

Her words hit a nerve you weren’t ready for. Your laughter faltered for just a moment as your gaze softened. Vi hadn’t noticed, not yet. She was too focused on stirring, measuring, creating—perhaps even distracting herself. But you noticed. You always did. She was just 14, torn from everything she knew and locked away in a cold, unfeeling cell for eight years. Eight years of surviving when most people would’ve shattered under the weight of it all. And yet… here she was, standing before you, kind, patient, a walking testament to everything she could’ve lost but somehow chose to preserve. How? How did she do it? You swallowed hard, caught in the swirling storm of your thoughts.

“Hey…” her voice broke through the haze. She wasn’t looking at you yet, but she must have felt your silence hanging too heavy. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. “I just—” You hesitated, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you let yourself ask, but once the words started tumbling out, you couldn’t stop them. “How was it? Being in prison for so long, and so young? I mean, you don’t have to answer—”

Vi’s hands froze over the pan for just a moment before she sucked in a quiet breath and forced her focus back on the food. “It was… horrible,” she admitted softly. “When I first got there, I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I was scared. Really scared. But I couldn’t show it. You can’t, you know?” She paused, stirring again with a kind of restless energy. “I don’t even know how I got through eight years. Maybe hope? I think there was this… tiny sliver of hope that Powder was still out there. That kept me going. I’d lie awake every night thinking about her.”

Your chest tightened. Hope. How much of it still lingered inside her, after all that time? Her hope was rooted in the past. In something you now knew. Something you hid.

“Powder is your sister, right?” The question left your lips so quietly, you weren’t sure if it had been meant for her or just the silence hanging between you both.

“She was…” Vi answered, the weight of those words palpable as they fell from her lips. Her breath caught briefly before she pushed through it, masking her hurt with a deep inhale. But you could feel it. You could always feel it with her, the kind of pain that lingered even in the moments she tried to tuck it away. And guilt slammed into you like a tidal wave. You shouldn’t have asked. How could you look at her and listen to the ache in her voice, knowing what you knew? Knowing that her sister wasn’t a ghost but a nightmare waiting just around the corner? You were selfish. Keeping this from her—keeping secrets so you could hold on to this, to her—was cruel in ways you didn’t know how to face.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could think to stop them.

“For what?” she asked, glancing at you, that teasing spark back as her fingers brushed against your cheek, grounding you. You hated how much comfort her touch brought you, how undeserving you felt of it.

“For what happened to you,” you lied again, hiding the truth behind an apology that wasn’t fully yours to give.

Vi’s smile returned, a small one that didn’t reach her eyes this time. She let it slide, wordlessly plating the food she’d prepared and handing a dish to you. “I really hope this won’t kill you,” she quipped with an almost-laugh, always using humor to keep herself afloat. “I kinda like having you around.”

“Kinda?” you scoffed, lightly smacking her shoulder, feeling the warmth in her laugh as it echoed in the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, the two of you found a kind of peace again, talking about everything and nothing. You looked at her as she spoke, losing yourself in the familiarity of it. This felt right. Safe. It felt like something you hadn’t had in a long, long time. Home.

“Wait—” You paused mid-bite, narrowing your eyes playfully. “This… actually isn’t that bad.”

“I’ll take that as a—”

But whatever she was about to say never came, cut off by the sudden, sharp knock at the door. You froze. She did too.

“Waiting for someone?” Vi asked cautiously, setting her fork down and standing to her feet.

“No,” you whispered, confused, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t yet understand.

The second knock came faster, louder this time. You stood, glancing at Vi as she moved to follow you. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, to leave it, to turn back. But you didn’t. With shaking fingers, you undid the lock and opened the door.You froze. Air left your lungs like you’d been struck.

“Hey,” a voice rasped, rough around the edges and too real to belong to any memory.

Your world tilted. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. The figure standing before you—this couldn’t be.

Ellie. You couldn’t speak. You just stood there, frozen in the doorway, staring at her like she was a ghost brought to life. But she wasn’t a ghost. She was real. Too real. You could see the way her short auburn hair was tied into a half-bun, the strands still messy, like she hadn’t slept. You saw the faint freckles splattered across her face, the ones you used to know so well, the ones you’d trace absentmindedly on quiet nights. Her green eyes—they were different now. Duller, somehow. A little harder. But they were still hers.Ellie was right there, standing only a few feet away, and it felt like the air had been punched out of you.

“Y/N…” Her voice cracked as she said your name, breaking the thick, suffocating silence that hung in the doorway. She took a tentative step forward like she didn’t know whether to reach for you or run from the look on your face. Vi shifted behind you, her presence a steady weight, but Ellie didn’t acknowledge her. It was like you were the only person she saw. Your body moved before you even registered it. You stepped back—one, two, three steps—putting more distance between you and her as though the space would shield you from the overwhelming wave of emotions surging inside you. Anger rose to the surface, burning hotter than the shock. Anger so fierce it drowned out everything else.How dare she? How dare she show up here? After all this time. After what she did. After you clawed your way out of the wreckage she left behind and built a life—your life. How could she think she had the right to show up and tear it all apart? Again.

“Get out,” you hissed, the words sharp and raw as they escaped your throat. You could feel your composure slipping through your fingers like sand. “I’m not going to say it again.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you took a step forward this time, closing the distance just enough to let her know you meant every word.

Ellie didn’t flinch. Not really. But you saw her swallow hard, her jaw tightening before her lips parted, trembling. “I will,” she said quickly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I promise, okay? I’ll leave. Just… just let me talk to you first.”

The bitter laugh that broke from your chest surprised even you. “A promise?” you spat, the word dripping with venom. “Are you serious, Ellie? We both know your promises mean nothing. So save it. Get the fuck out of here. I have nothing to say to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything from you.”

Vi’s voice, calm but firm, cut through the tense air behind you. “You heard her.” She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, though there was nothing casual about the way her sharp gaze lingered on Ellie.

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward her for the first time, her brows furrowing in irritation at being interrupted. Her tone turned cold, defensive. “I’m not talking to you,” she hissed back before her focus snapped back to you. It softened instantly, a desperate edge creeping into her voice as she took another cautious step closer. “Y/N, please. You can kick me out. Yell at me. Hit me if you want—I deserve it. I know that. I know I do. But please, just give me five minutes. Just let me talk to you. Alone.”

The last word was added with a pointed look toward Vi, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t just asking. She was begging.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

It was the middle of the night when the quiet creak from outside the room pulled you from your sleep. At first, you thought it was nothing—maybe the house settling, or the wind brushing against the windows. But then you noticed it: the faint glow of light coming from the living room, spilling in through the half-opened door. You blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes, before instinctively reaching for Ellie beside you. Your hand hit an empty mattress. Her side of the bed was cold.

Your heart sank as unease crept in, but you still didn’t fully understand. Not yet. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your face as you forced yourself out of bed.

“Ellie?” you called softly, your voice husky with sleep, barely cutting through the stillness of the room.

Through the crack in the door, you saw her silhouette—frozen in the middle of the living room like she’d been caught. She wasn’t supposed to be there, and something about the way she stood, stiff and hesitant, made your stomach churn.

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly, stepping closer, your bare feet soft against the floor.

She turned slowly to face you, and the moment her eyes locked with yours, it hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t even need her to say it. Her expression told you everything. She was holding a backpack.

“Ellie…” The word was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of sudden, overwhelming dread. “No.” Your voice was firmer this time as you took a step closer. Your heart was already breaking before you could even piece it all together. “No,” you repeated, your tone trembling. “No, you’re not doing this.”

She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. She looked like she wanted to say something—needed to—but nothing came out. Instead, she reached up, gently catching your hand as it brushed over her freckled cheek. She didn’t lean into it like she always did.

“Y/N, please… don’t,” she whispered, pulling your hand away. Her touch was cold, distant. Not the warmth you were used to. She stepped back, putting more space between the two of you.

“Don’t?” Your voice cracked as you felt the first tear slip down your cheek. You couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Why was this happening? You hadn’t fought. There wasn’t a single warning sign. Nothing. “Ellie,” you pleaded, desperate, your voice shaking harder now. “What’s going on? What did I do? Why—why are you doing this?”

She avoided your eyes, her lips trembling, but her face was set, as if forcing herself to stay strong. “We both know this won’t work for long,” she mumbled, her voice breaking with quiet resignation. “It’s better if it ends now.”

It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

“Bullshit,” you snapped through the tears now falling freely down your face. Your hands trembled as you reached for her again, desperate to close the gap between you. “What are you even talking about? We’re happy, Ellie! We’re happy! I’m happy!”

She flinched slightly at the words, her breath hitching like you’d hit her, but she didn’t back down. Her silence was deafening.

You stepped closer, your voice softening, barely audible. “I love you.”

She froze, her jaw tightening, but her gaze still wouldn’t meet yours. The silence that followed was heavier than anything you’d ever felt. Like the walls were caving in around you, crushing you under their weight. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, her words shaky and raw. “I’m sorry.”

Then she turned away.

“No—wait,” you stammered, stumbling forward, but she was already at the door. Her fingers brushed against the handle, the finality of it hitting you like a freight train. “Ellie, don’t do this! Please!”

She opened the door without looking back, her shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. For a split second, you thought she might stop, might turn around and take it all back. But she didn’t. She stepped through the doorway and disappeared into the night. The cold air rushed in, filling the empty space she left behind, and all you could do was collapse where you stood. The door creaked as it swung shut, but the sound barely registered over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

She was gone.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Flashbacks clouded your mind, consuming every ounce of rationality you could muster. After everything, after all she had done to you—she had the audacity to show up here? At your door? She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention. The wounds she left on you ran too deep to forgive, too raw to ignore. You had given her everything, laid yourself bare, handed her your love and trust on a silver platter. And she had tossed it aside, left you shattered and hollow, forcing you to pick up the broken pieces of yourself. And now, here she was, standing there like a ghost refusing to fade.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” you hissed, your voice trembling with rage. You tried to keep your composure, but it cracked like glass under the weight of your pain. “I’m serious, Ellie. Whatever it is, I’m not fucking interested. Now turn around and get the hell out of here. You’re good at that, after all.” You weren’t even trying to hide the venom in your words, wanting—no, needing—to hurt her as much as she’d hurt you. Her head dropped, her eyes casting downward, and you could see it—her desperation. Her body language betrayed her, as if her entire being was begging you to let her in, to give her a chance to speak. Her green eyes glistened under the dim light, heavy with the weight of emotions she couldn’t say aloud. It reminded you of yourself… the last time you had seen her, the last time you had begged. But this wasn’t then. You weren’t the same person anymore.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute. “I need to talk to you.” Her tone was raw, yet the stubbornness in her words was unyielding. Of course, it was Ellie—she was the most determined, most maddeningly persistent person you had ever known. That much hadn’t changed.

“And I told you I’m not fucking interested,” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly across your chest like a shield. “Whatever it is, save it. It doesn’t matter to me. You don’t matter to me—not anymore.”

Ellie flinched at your words, like they had physically struck her. She stood there, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly searching for something—anything—to make you listen.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly but firmly. “You can kick me out right now if you want, Y/N, but I’ll just stand outside your door all night if that’s what it takes. I’ll stay until you talk to me.”

Your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “What a fucking joke.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, but you felt your resolve begin to crack, your chest tightening. “Talk about what, huh? About how you left without saying a damn word? About how you ripped me apart and didn’t even look back?” You could feel the floodgate threatening to open, so you took a deep breath and steadied yourself, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. Ellie stepped forward, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but Vi’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Are you deaf?” Vi said coldly, her tone filled with threat and unwavering loyalty. “She wants you to leave. Get lost.”

Ellie’s gaze snapped toward Vi, and her defensiveness flared immediately. “I’m not talking to you, punk,” she hissed, her voice low and edged with irritation.You stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Vi’s shoulder before she could move forward. Vi looked at you, her fists clenched tightly, ready to defend you at any cost. But she stopped, catching the stern warning in your eyes. “She’s not worth it, Vi,” you murmured, lowering your voice.

Ellie’s eyes darted between the two of you, and you could see it—jealousy flaring in her expression, sharp and sudden. Her jaw clenched, the familiar tension flickering across her face. But she didn’t address it, didn’t ask. Instead, her focus locked onto you.

“Look, Ellie,” you said, your voice low but unwavering, a finality edging each word. “I’m serious. I don’t want you here—not a second more. Whatever you have to say, you can save it for someone else. I don’t—”

“It’s your brother, Y/N,” she blurted, her voice cutting through your words. Her desperation cracked through the tension like lightning.

You froze. The air shifted.

“What…?” The word barely came out, caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.

Her gaze softened, the storm of emotions still swirling in her green eyes. “It’s your brother,” she repeated, steadier now. “Faye… she found him.”

Your heart stopped, the room spinning as the weight of her words crashed down on you.

Author's note : I'm so sorry for delay but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Ellie finally shows up! What do you think , what is going to happen? Do you like how story is going so far? I really appreciate your feedback so don't be shy to share it with me!

This is my little Christmas gift for my readers. Marry Christmas everyone, I hope you're having a good one!

Thank you !!

[drewdoa]

─────────⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─────────

── .✦ # 𝒚𝒐𝒖 • part 1 ; viktor

── .✦ a/n: hey!! so i decided to mix two of my favorite shows together!!! it’s definitely different from what i would usually write but i think it’s such a cool mix and the thought of viktor being obsessive is like rotting in my brain..i hope you enjoy this and tell me if i should make more!!

── .✦ extra info: no gender mention, obsessive behavior, harmless stalking, might be a bit inaccurate to their canon characters

{ inspiration taken from the show “you” on netflix ! }

viktor has always been the type to stay kept to himself. he doesn’t bother anyone or talk to many people besides jayce and you. rotting away in his lab at almost every opportunity presented.

..almost. he’s got a small hobby he tends to every so often, he doesn’t like to talk about it much since it’s a way for him to “de stress”. you’ve noticed lately he carries a what looks like a sketchbook that’s filled to the pages ends with things he’s been doing. pictures, and stickers and pen scribbled all inside, what else could he be doing? scrapbooking you thought!

one lazy morning though, around the crack of dawn basically, viktor was caught up in that book. going through page after page, admiring his past works. they all look similar. about the same..person?

you watch him carefully from a distance, in the hallway where his lab leads. what is so important about that book? why can’t jayce know about it? why can’t i know about it? are you hiding something crazy from me? do you feel like id judge you? all of these things race through your mind, though you reassure yourself with the fact it could just be something personal and you must respect that.

what are you so infatuated with. finally it’s about time you try and mention it, to test the waters if you will.

⌗˳⳿⤏ “viktor?” your mouth spits out, a bit of a distance between you two.

he’s caught just a bit off guard by your voice, he then relaxes just enough to give you a proper response.

“yes?” his body then turns to you, his chair fitting his body perfectly as he comfortably leans his arm on the armrest.

“i just wanted to check on you since you’ve been here for..a little while again” you take a pause before glancing at his prized possession before back at his face.

“i’ve been caught up with studies and working, im sorry i didn’t warn you beforehand. but you should be here too you know.”

“i’ve noticed you’re a fan of journalism too hm? a little expected though” you say as you step a little closer to him.

“…it’s been something i do on the side, i didn’t think you knew about journaling. you do most of that with jayce and his phone with a drink in your hand”

you freeze at his slick ass comment. as much as you wanna flick him in the forehead for it, you can’t, cause he’s right. you and jayce have been drinking quite a lot lately instead of focusing on the projects in which viktor has done most of your work.

“if i had the right to beat your ass i would’ve.” you reply while folding your arms. you take another glance at viktor’s book and there’s a familiar face in there. it looks hand drawn, a little accurate to..

“if you don’t mind, i’ve got work to finish, some that you should be helping with but there’s no point now..come back later. and bring my “partner”, i’ve got a lot of work for him.” his tall lanky figure rises from the chair as he grabs his cane, walking to the doorway and taking you with him.

“maybe one night i could show you what ive been doing..i think you’d enjoy the cage.”

✮⋆˙ hello!! i hope you liked this post :)) i was planning on making this like my own little series!! do let me know if you’d like a second part or any other requests (my asks are open <3) :D -drew

[bloodyinkandquill]

Boombox x Reader NSFW

last time i worked on this was november 11th, sorry yall ive had problems with motivation and finals week was last week plus i got sick so i didn’t have much time to work on any requests, hopefully i get back in the swing of things however i am in a hotel about to begin a vacation so my wifi may not be good for a week unfortunately, we shall see i suppose

D/V/S: He’s chill, not big on the dynamics but leans more towards sub he’s a-okay letting you take full control

T/S/B: Switch with a slight preference for bottom, can really do either though

Kinks: Not a kink but let’s establish this immediately, he makes a custom playlist for sex that he always plays, got it? Good. Onto actual kinks he’s not that kinky of a guy in all honesty, he’s more into just casual more low key stuff, that’s not to say he’s against kinks he’s for the most part down with whatever you wanna do, but he does enjoy cuddle fucking and just softer stuff, specifically if he’s topping, he’s also into slight sensory deprivation, specifically sound wise but adding a blindfold is cool with him, it can go either way honestly being depraved or depriving you

More kinks: If he is the bottom he’s a slight masochist, nothing crazy but if you do wanna be rougher with him and man handle him some he likes that a lot, but not too frequently he prefers most of the time chiller stuff, he’s also got a very slight humiliation kink, just more so you making him do stuff to get off that’s a bit embarrassing like watching him hump a pillow or making him hump your leg, again not extremely or super commonly he just does enjoy them on occasion

Aftercare: If he topped he plays a calmer playlist and gets you some snacks and water, he usually isn’t rough when topping so not too too much aftercare is required, at least based on if you had some kinks you wanted to indulge in, if he bottomed he goes semi verbal I feel like, he feels like a guy to be pretty loud in bed so he prefers not to talk much, he just wants to cuddle a lot afterwards and make content hums and sleep, one of the only times he’s quiet honestly

oh my gods lets go i did it, going into this i had like no ideas, i’ll be so real i genuinely don’t have like any strong opinions towards him or skateboard not in self shipping specific just in general, which is a bit ironic i main (see literally only know how to play) slingshot in phighting and they’re his best friends so me not really caring about them is funny, but yeah hope these are good, i might do my next request but i was on the road all day and im tired so i might fall asleep before finishing it we shall see

[iliothermia]

I'm really struggling with communication right now, so I'm gonna be a bit distant for a bit. I really appreciate the patience n kindness 💗

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle

[daphnalia]

found this in my drafts from march 2023, are the dndadders still alive

[hecksupremechips]

Come back home when you have some sense

You can throw your life away just not at my expense

You’re not the son I raised

[minionsuncle]

my take on Edward and Lydia. The graphic novels pulling me back a little wont lie …

[kristalldroppar]

Did people like, forget that you have to kill a selkidomus and a stonesleeper (sentient, conscious and feeling species) To make a grimwalker........?

Oh and you also need to acquire a galdorstone, which is a rare, powerful, magical,protected and ancient relic thats.... Guarded for a reason.

It's necromancy and cloning. The show made it hard to do because of its problematic nature and removing that literally takes away a part of why belos doing this is so wrong. (It's not only about him using his brother's corpse, but the importance of a sense of self, these people have to go through. Complex identity issues and probably feelings of being a copy of someone else, which necessarily doesn't need to be the case, but something the show itself, imo is trying to bring up plenty of times)

if it was easy, belos wouldn't go to such lengths to achieve it. He would simply have more grimwalkers than what he already had, (and he had a lot already. When harvesting the ingredients, he literally destroyed eco-systems, eating Palismen and harvesting the trees.)

The galdorstones themselves had to be protected because of their strong magical abilities being used for selfish reasons, and letting them be harvested and used by specific few, would for sure cause societal problems. It is also hinted (not specified) that the ones that exists today are those protected by the graveyard (which is a very old one and created for again, said reason above)

Ethical dilemmas indeed

[bulbabutt]

so me n sibling finished rise rewatch with all the newfound turtle lore after our big tmnt media binge......... many feelings i wanna get out

firstable........ how anyone watched this show and didnt think those were the ninja turtles in purest form i will never understand. like you cannot deny any of these characters being the same characters but with new roles to fill. raph is the protector. mikey is the heart. leo is the strategist. donnie is the brain. it just created a new dynamic, but never strayed very far from what came before

second....... take the ninja turtles and just hammer home a story about generational trauma and healing from it, giving them strength from how much they love and trust each other.... you break my heart wide open i am crying

to me they are the best amalgamation of all the turtles who came before them like: silly and sweet like 87, they have this close familial understanding unconditional love like 03, and this overarching story of bringing a family back together like 12

started this watch of all turtle media because rise on its own felt so good, but having gone back and seen all the other pieces i was missing makes me appreciate what it was doing more, because i felt every other series and movie in this one in spirit, but with the ideals of the modern cartoon saying: hey kids, its okay to ask for help, youre not alone, your feelings matter, and the people around you should support you

and on top of that, obviously the most visually stunning version to date, utilizing years of lessons learned from western cartoons and anime, meshing together in breathtaking action, but also having the most hilariously snappy comedic animation that uses what seem like cheap movements of a frame to make every line of dialogue all the more hysterical, and having these very expressive characters be able to be very subtle in the touching emotional moments.

i genuinely love this show so much and i feel really stupid for not having watched it sooner, and the fact it is the shortest of all the shows that never got the chance to finish its story makes me so sad. but at least what story it did get to tell was beautiful.

[aziraphales-lawyer]

Literally no other way I could describe it right now.

[fujobritta]

weird storytime and an abed analysis (abednalysis ?)

in s1e17, physical education, abed says that he didnt mind changing for other people because hes comfortable with who he is . a season later, in s2e19, critical film studies, he says instead that he doesnt like change . and now i realize what he really meant when he said that he didnt mind changing .

when i was younger, around 11-12, i would pretend to be other people online . more than five different separate identities in one discord server . because i wanted people to like me more . i made these alt accounts and assigned each one a personality, a different typing style, a reason for joining, a region, and a timezone . and for the most part, they were people who were nicer and just generally likeable . because im not someone who is any of those things . i am not a nice person . i dont even think im a good person . and god i am not likeable . at all .

so i played these characters . most of them only being active for short periods . i would have full back and forth conversations with these alt accounts to sell it . i had these weird insane elaborate plans . a 16 year old former drug user, lives in manitoba, somewhat parental . 13, california, liked minecraft and drawing -- completely different artstyle (and different software) too . etc .

i would let these accounts bake (make them and then not use them) so that it didnt seem suspicious with a brand new account joining the server . then i would spend a week making the account and forming a character to go with it, sometimes asking people to help me out . it was so fucking crazy . i was insane . might still be .

…yeah i probably still am .

i was such a better person on those different accounts . because i didnt know how to change on the inside, i just started over and over again . different account, new me . like i was experimenting with who i really wanted to be like . formulating the perfect person to act like when i finally decided that i wanted to become a better person .

i gave up eventually obviously . im not a tween anymore . i was a really weird tween . obviously . but i think about it a lot .

honestly i only went back to being myself because it was comfortable . i felt better being a fucking douche . and i still am a douche . im not a good person . i dont think ill ever be a "good person" . what the hell is a good person, anyways . all i know is that im fine with myself like this . even as much as i not-so-secretly hate myself, and deny it out of fear of seeming like an "edgy attention seeking loser" .

its not that abed doesnt mind change, he just doesnt mind changing the persona . he doesnt mind changing the person showing on the outside . a separate identity . but ultimately, he wouldnt ever fundamentally change as a person . because hes fine with who he is, even if other people might not like him for that . and i want to be like him . i want to be someone who is fine with who they are, even if that someone is a socially inept ass who learned tenth grade math at age ten but cant figure out when their own face is making a smile or not .

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]

[horsechestnut]

Reverse Robins!

But specifically Stephanie and Tim (with a little Jason added when it's relevant).

Note: I'm of the opinion that in Reverse Robin AUs they wouldn't actually use Robin as their code name, but for convince and clarity's sake I will be using it here.

Damian is gone. He left in a blaze of anger. They'd fought before, but this time came with a finality Bruce doesn't known how to handle.

Batman is spiraling. Without Damian around there's no need to be Bruce Wayne, no reason not to follow one more lead before turning in. No young eyes looking to him to be an example. Nothing to keep him from beating the bad guys into a comma.

Tim Drake has been watching Bruce Wayne for awhile. He's been watching Batman for longer. He saw the turn, the way the Wayne Foundation is slowly being corrupted without Bruce's over site, and the more extreme injuries criminals are coming in with. He looks at Bruce Wayne and Batman, and the man behind them both and thinks "Yeah, I can fix that." Maybe it's teenage nativity, maybe it's a drive to do something good, maybe it's the need to be in control of something in his life. Whatever it is, he acts on it.

Bruce doesn't want to let Tim be Robin. Damian was his son, and a trained assassin, Tim is a random kid with no formal training. But Tim is a random kid who figured out his identity and is actively blackmailing him with it, so he doesn't have many options.

Batman and Robin are back together. Bruce Wayne is back in board meetings. The criminals are getting a lot less bruises. Robin is far more impressive than Batman ever would have guessed he could be. Tim is falling asleep in math class, but he already knows it all anyway so it's barely worth mentioning.

There's a new vigilante in Gotham. One who sets a dangerous precedent. It's one thing for Batman to have allies, it's another for outside agents to start taking matters into their own hands. Especially when they're untrained teenagers who are looking for personal vengeance.

He does everything he can to get Spoiler to quit. He tells himself it's not just about his personal dislike of her, it's for the sake of every other misguided kid who might try to follow her lead.

He fails.

The Joker attacks Robin. He doesn't kill him, he has a worse fate in mind. He takes Batman's prodigy and makes him his own. Tries to prove that even the Bat's closest ally can be corrupted if he has a bad enough day. He succeeds, and for one terrifying night The Batman faces off against Joker Jr.

Tim survives, but he's not the same. It takes months for his injuries to heal, and even then he's haunted by what Joker turned him into. Terrified that he could snap again at the wrong moment. He tells Bruce he can't be in the field anymore, it's to big of a risk. He promises Batman he'll find another way to help.

Cluemaster is dead. He died on a suicide mission. No matter how Steph feels about it personally, logically she knows Gotham is safer without him around. Part of her can't help being relieved, and she doesn't hate that part of herself as much as she knows she should. There's no longer any need for The Spoiler.

There's an opening for Robin and Steph wants the job. Wants to prove she can do it. That she's just as good as Tim. That she's not her father. That she can make a father proud.

Batman doesn't want Stephanie. He wants Tim. But maybe Stephanie is a way to get there. To make Tim jealous enough to come back.

Bruce tells himself it's for Tim's own good. Stephanie's too. Tim needs the push, needs to be Robin again so he can overcome his fear about being the field. And Stephanie needs the training, and the focus now that Cluemaster is gone.

Robin tries, she really does. She does everything Batman asks of her, always. Except once. And once is all it takes. Robin is fired, but as she leaves the cave Stephanie grabs on to one last desperate chance to prove herself. Batman never intended for the file to be used, but Stephanie doesn't know that. Batman didn't tell her. He never told her anything.

The war that erupts is unlike anything Gotham has ever seen.

Damian comes home. It's not for Bruce. It's for Gotham, for the city that took him in despite everything.

Batman isn't listening to Oracle. He's cutting him off, overriding his systems, and treating him like nothing more than a glorified phone operator. Tim can't just do nothing. Not when his city is burning.

Black Mask captures Spoiler, and nobody notices.

Robin is back on the scene. He's reluctant at first, but once he starts it's like a switch flips. The moves are second nature, the danger is exhilarating. It isn't a game, but part of him can't help relishing it all the same. He can't remember why he stopped.

Spoiler manages to get free. She manages to ambush Black Mask. She manages to pin him to the ground, gun pointed at his head. But Steph can't pull the trigger. Two months ago she would have, but now Batman's voice is in her head. She can't let him down. Not again.

Stephanie hesitates, and in that moment Black Mask breaks her hold. He gets his gun back. There's no moral code running though the back of his head. He doesn't hesitate.

Gotham is safe. Batman did his job. Damian is back. Robin is in the field again. But Bruce is haunted by what happened. Damian is injured, Tim has nightmares, and Stephanie...

Jason Todd isn't new to being poor. He knows how to be hungry, how to fend for himself. But he is new to being homeless. The gang war left lots of kids in the Narrows orphaned, of course some of them were going to fall through the cracks, and Jason happens to be one of them. Maybe it's for the best. He's heard how the Gotham Foster System treats kids. Maybe he's better off on his own. He just needs to find a way to make some money.

Batman descends with all the furry he's been holding in. But instead of an overconfident car thief, he finds a twelve year old boy desperately clutching a tire iron, trying to seem angry instead of scared.

Bruce recognizes something in him that he can't fully explain. He takes Jason back to the manor. Gives him a home. Does everything he can to keep him away from the cave.

That lasts about two weeks.

Jason wants to give back to his community, to make sure kids don't have to deal with the shit he had to deal with. He wants to thank Bruce for helping him. He wants to be nothing like his dad. He wants to make his new father proud.

Damian is against it. Tim is against it. Bruce is against it. Jason is insistent. He decides to take matters into his own hands, to steal an old Robin suit and sneak out after the others have left. It doesn't go well. He thinks he's blown his chance, but to his surprise Batman relents. If he doesn't Jason will find a way to do it on his own, and he won't let another kid go out untrained.

Tim goes back to Oracle. The way he felt the night of the gang war still scares him sometimes, reminds him to much of Batman back when they first met. Guilt washes over him whenever ever he thinks about it. How happy he'd been, all well Steph...

He should have been in the Clock Tower that night. Should have been keeping better tabs on all of them. He should have known she was missing in action, should have been monitoring her suit's location or trying to reach out instead of just listening when Batman said not to involve her. So if there's a new kid running around in the suit, their suit, he's going to make sure this one is safe.

Robin is good. Really good. He's to angry, he's rash, he's impulsive. But he learns fast, and he seems to almost fly over Gotham. He fits the role in a way Tim never truly did.

Black Mask is dead, and someone else is using his name. Someone who's dismantling the Gotham underworld piece by piece.

Steph has a duty to the people she hurt, a duty Batman will never understand, and one she has to handle her way. Batman stopped the war, but he didn't stop the gangsters. He didn't stop Black Mask, or Scareface, or any of the others. It's not about what they did to her. She deserved it. It was her own fault. But so many others suffered because of them, because of her, and Batman did nothing to stop it. So she will.

Black Mask isn't planning to confront Batman. She doesn't care about him. She's done seeking his approval and following his rules. Doing that got her killed. It got other people killed. But there's another Robin running around, and someone needs to explain that. Steph knows by now that she was never really Robin, it was all just a trick to get Tim back. A trick that worked. So who the hell is this kid? Is he like Tim, someone Batman will keep safe, or is he just another pawn he'll sacrifice the second it's covenant? And when she finally gets around to asking, she lets more slip than she should have.

Batman knows the truth, but that's okay. It was only a matter of time before he did, and it doesn't change anything. Bruce tries to appeal to her, but what can he possibly say that could make a difference? That he's sorry?

He is, but it's to late for that. Stephanie knows the truth. She knows he never took her seriously. She knows he never trusted her. She knows it was all a game, and that in the end Batman got what he wanted even if not in the way he intended. And Bruce can't argue, because she's right. He created her, and he knows it.

Stephanie Brown is dead. She died in Leslie's clinic. She died because her doctor decided teaching Batman a lesson was worth more than her life. A lesson he didn't even bother to learn. She died because she listened to Batman even though he never bothered to listen to her. And she died because Batman used her as a chess piece. Because he wrote her off before she'd even properly begun.

Black Mask is not Cluemaster. She refuse to ever be her father. But she's not Batman either. He never gave her the chance to be. She's something else. Something between those two extremes. Something that's fully hers. She's going to protect the people Batman's to busy to care about, and if she has to kill a few people along the way, so be it. She's not playing by his rules anymore. She never will again.

Black Mask is Batman's greatest failure. Not because she died, but because he never took the time to teach her how to live.

Stephanie is Bruce's biggest regret. Not because she died, but because he didn't care about her until she did.

[orcelito]

Thinking again about my plans for Vash and Knives in ITNL

Which I can't really get into the specifics for How I'm going to do things w/o going into spoiler territory. But I Do have Vash & Knives tagged on the fic for a reason. I set up in the first chapter that Vash is determined to try to save Knives too.

Which. That choice, as well as the entire basis for all of this, depends so much on that final fight in trimax. The one that was literally a scene away from where ITNL Vash went back in time. His mentality just a hair's width away from that...

At the end of trimax, there was reconciliation, however brief and incomplete it was. In ITNL, my question to myself was How could I induce that again? Under different circumstances, How Else could we get there? And that is the long-game in ITNL.