#this post is long and ridiculous I'm sorry

[galaxymagitech]

hello!! i'm a big fan of your fic "Bleed the Poison Out" (and i'm definitely putting it on multiple fic rec lists). it has such a good portrayal of bruce and dick's relationship <3

so for the ask game: ✰ NEW SHAPES ☹ EVIL TWIN ♡ SMALL THINGS

Thank you so much!!! That is one of my favorite fics I’ve written, and probably in my top three of Bruce & Dick fics to write, so I’m really glad you enjoyed it. Sorry for taking so long :(

Bleed the Poison Out | Ask Game

♡ SMALL THINGS: pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite minor detail from it!

Hmm. This fic means a lot to me, so it’s difficult to find something that feels minor, but…I think I’d go with the soft rug that has the pizza sauce and blood stains. The fic can feel very isolating (to me, at least), like Bruce and Dick are the only two people in the world—even when other people come up, they’re a distraction tactic. But the rug is just there, and a sign of Dick’s connections beyond just Bruce. Even if he never talked to Bruce again (although he will talk to Bruce again), he would still have a family.

✰ NEW SHAPES: send me a fic and I’ll give you an alternate direction the fic could have gone!

Well, when I first started planning this fic (for last year's Dick Grayson Anniversary Week), I was trying to make it an actual heartwarming, complete apology that, while not fixing everything, left a very solid foundation. But every single fully sincere apology I could think of felt utterly ridiculous. I genuinely could not suspend my disbelief enough to believe that Bruce could apologize in a way that doesn’t make things worse. So, I ended up pulling out a draft that was permanently consigned to my notes. It was a personal thing, not fit for posting, but I figured I could try to fix it up.

After that, I think the main thing that nearly went differently was that I almost cut it off because I couldn’t think of an ending. Instead of getting through to Bruce, Dick would have forced down his feelings in the end, accepted Bruce’s apology (and lack of apology for the incidents they disagree on) and then Bruce would leave. And Dick would be alone.

But then I found a turning point, where Dick voices something that's just so out of place that it forces Bruce to confront how his actions are so messed up that they've created these really messed-up (but realistic, I think) thought processes. That, despite not meaning to, he hurt his son.

☹ EVIL TWIN: send me a fic or scene and I’ll give you the unhappy ending version of it!

This was really fun. My first thought was that the conversation escalated and Bruce got violent again, but I figured that's boring, and I could do better. So I challenged myself to imagine the actual worst dumpster fire of an ending possible. And then I worked back from there to light that fire.

That turning point I mentioned in the previous question? It could very easily have sent the conversation careening in the opposite direction. So I’ve started the story from there. Enjoy your dumpster fire ending!

***

“I want you to hit me again,” Dick admits. For a moment, there’s silence. And then—

“What.” Bruce’s voice is flat and cold. Dick flinches at the sound of it.

He—it made sense in his head. If Bruce just…just hit him. Now. After Spyral. Not under mind control. No Court of Owls, or dead sons, or dead friends, or justification. If Bruce just hit him, Dick would know. He would know that this is what Bruce does, that Bruce hits him, that it’s a thing, and Dick can be angry all he wants and it won’t be just stupid, childish resentment.

But sitting in the silence and listening to the words echo in his ears, Dick knows there has to be something wrong with him, something that makes him push and poke and prod and provoke until Bruce loses his patience. After all, what kind of kid—not that Dick is a kid, but he sure feels like one right now—what kind of kid wants his father to hit him? What kind of kid says that out loud?

When Bruce speaks again, his words dig their claws into Dick’s heart and scoop out the rot hiding inside. Because, as much as Dick wishes he wasn’t, Bruce is right. “If you’re looking for whatever villain you’ve built up in your head, Dick, you’re not going to get it.”

“Villain,” Dick echoes. Everything is cold, not just Bruce’s voice. The air in his apartment. The air in his lungs. The cavity Bruce has carved into his chest where his heart is supposed to beat.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Bruce asks. “I fired you. I’m to blame for Jason’s death. I’m to blame for everything, aren’t I?” Dick’s fists clench, thumbs trapped against the wood of the table. “I made mistakes. I’ll be the first to admit that. But—”

“Mistakes?” Dick can’t keep the hysteria out of his tone. He was trying to be calm. Reasonable. He alwaystries. But something about arguing with Bruce turns him into a timebomb. And sooner or later, he explodes. And even if he calms down, even if he tries to reel himself in, he just explodes again. And again. And again. Until one of them leaves. “You want to talk about Jason’s death? Because you blamed me for that too, and then you hit me, and the first time you even thought to apologize is half a decade later! You beat me until I agreed to leave my family behind and go on that godforsaken mission and even now, you can’t even acknowledge what you did! All you can say is that you made mistakes!”

“What do you even want me to say, then?” Bruce asks. His face is contorted with something that Dick has only seen a few times before. In the cave, after Jason’s death. As Batman pulled him from Blüdhaven’s wreckage. In the cave again, after the Crime Syndicate. It’s a face Dick has only ever seen on Batman in their worst moments together. But now, Bruce is wearing it, and Dick can’t force his lungs to breathe. “You’re acting like a child, right now.”

“Maybe stop treating me like one then!” Dick screams.

He doesn’t mean it in the way he meant it at twelve, at sixteen, at nineteen. He doesn’t mean that Bruce isn’t giving him enough responsibility or independence, or that Bruce doesn’t trust him.

Dick means that he will never be able to say anything to convince Bruce that he did more than just make a mistake. No matter what, Dick’s words will always be less trustworthy, less valid, less real. Bruce will hold a court session in his head and Dick’s thoughts will never be anything other than an unreliable eyewitness testimony.

That’s unfair to Bruce. Dick has no way of proving that he’s right—about Bruce hitting him after Gordon’s supposed death, about the events before Spyral being more than just a brutal spar, about Bruce’s actions being a step above mistake and crossing over into something he doesn’t want to name. Why should Bruce trust him, when he accidentally lied about not agreeing to spar? Why should Bruce trust him, when he took the most thorough apology Bruce has ever given and pushed and prodded until he made it another argument, just like he always does?

But it still stings.

Bruce’s response stings even more.

“I tried to apologize,” Bruce says. “I sat here while you accused me of one terrible thing after the next. But—”

Dick can’t help but interrupt. (That’s wrong. He needs to take responsibility; he can help it. He just doesn’t.)“It’s not an apology if—”

“—playing the victim—”

“—you’re arguing with me—”

“—own up to my flaws but—” 

“—every other second!”

“I won’t apologize for something I never did!” Bruce roars, hands slamming into the table as he stands. The surface trembles, and Dick wonders if this will be it, and the kitchen table will finally crack. He’ll get a bigger one, this time. One with room for enough chairs for everyone.

His mind, Dick realizes, is not totally there. He can hear everything Bruce is saying. He can see the kitchen around them. But right now, the world doesn’t feel entirely real. “I didn’t ask you to!” Dick yells back. He thinks at least. He can’t really tell. His voice sounds too-loud and too-quiet at the same time. “I didn’t ask you to break into my apartment when I just wanted to sleep and try to talk about it, okay? Nothing’s stopping you from leaving!”

“I was trying to make things right!” Bruce screams, stepping forwards. Dick scrambles out of his chair and takes a step back, towards the corner of the kitchen. Away from the door. Not that Dick could reach the door anyway—Bruce is blocking the exits.

Dick remembers noticing that, when Bruce sat down. That Bruce put himself between Dick and the exits. Because he both of them appreciate being able to watch all the entrances, but he doesn’t know that right now, Dick feels like a cornered animal. Bruce would never have thought that Dick needed an exit to feel safe. “This?” Dick sweeps an arm out. “This is not making things right! This is making things worse, like you always do!”

Bruce takes another step forward. This time, Dick refuses to give any more ground. There’s not much further he can retreat in the corner anyway. Bruce opens his mouth, presumably to scream something else, before he abruptly pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is cutting, but no longer a scream. A knife, instead of a club. A knife that buries itself in Dick’s chest and twists. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You said you want me to hit you. And so you do this.” Bruce shakes his head. “This isn’t you, Dick. There’s something wrong with you, right now, making you act like this. Have you been exposed to any—”

Bruce says more, but Dick can’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. All he knows is that he needs to get out. He needs to get out. He needs to get out.

He can’t get out. The exits are blocked.

He needs to—

Over the next few weeks, Dick will look back on this moment and replay it over and over again in his head. He will try to tell himself that he was just acting instinctively, that he wasn’t thinking, that his vigilante brain perceived a threat and lashed out. But he’ll know better.

Dick hand forms a practiced fist and strikes Bruce in the face.

No. Dick needs to take responsibility. Dick strikes Bruce in the face.

And for a moment, the world freezes. Bruce, with his head thrown to the side. Dick, with a fist raised, blood beginning to well from where one of his knuckles scraped against a tooth. And the room, empty, with no one to bear witness. Just like always.

Except it’s entirely different.

Dick sucks a breath of air into the vacuum of his lungs. Bruce slowly lifts his head. For a moment, they both stare at each other.

And then Dick collapses against the wall, barely remaining upright. His mind is filled with a cacophony of voices, all screaming the same thing. “I’m sorry,” Dick says. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I’m sorry.”

Dick hit him. Not to fight him while he was making a mistake. He just hit him. During an argument.

Bruce has never hit Dick outside costume. Even during the spar, they wore their cowl and mask.

Dick didn’t just hit Bruce, didn’t just make a horrible—a horrible mistake. He crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” Dick repeats. It’s all he can do. He knows how it sounds. ‘I didn’t mean to’s and ‘I’m sorry’s. “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Are you done?” Bruce asks, wiping away the blood from a cut on his lower lip. His voice isn’t warm, but it isn’t cold either. It just is. Are you done? Are you done being a problem? Are you done escalating every fucking argument you get into? Are you done playing the victim, when you just struck someone you love and made him bleed?

“Please,” Dick says. He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. Forgiveness? That would make it worse. If Bruce forgave him. What he did— “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bruce says quietly. “I’m sorry too.” Bruce shouldn’t be apologizing. Dick hit him. This is all wrong.

Bruce was right. Dick keeps playing the victim, when all he’s done is create the problems.

Bruce helps Dick into his chair at the table and steps back. Dick’s skin crawls the whole time, but he can’t think of anything except the impact of Bruce’s skin beneath his fist. “I’ll see you next week,” Bruce says. “There’s a case that could use another pair of hands.”

Dick looks down. When he looks back up, Bruce is gone. He doesn’t know quite how long it was between.

All this time, Dick held grievances against Bruce for, what? Treating him like an equal? Like someone he could speak to honestly? Like someone who could stand up for himself if he didn’t want to spar?

Bruce wanted to apologize. And Dick responded by hitting him.

It’s clear, now, where the poison lies. Seeping into Dick’s blood. Dripping from the cut on his knuckle. Pulsing within his very veins.

[babyboywinchester]

Helloo,

I am kinda new to the supernatural fandom (i saw the show but don't interacted much with the fandom) - and i just have a few questions if you don't mind. So, were do i even start? I knew that shipping is always a part of any fandom. And i don't mind this.. i mean this is what fanfiction is for. But i am know kinda disturbed from the whole D/C... some of these people a extremly obsessive with this ship. In a really unhealthy and toxic way. Why do so many people ship this?? Like were is the chemistry, hell were are even all this moments they are talking about?! The reason why i am writing this whole long ass question (which turned out to be a rant - i'm so sorry for this) is.. i saw this video on youtube (some dest*el stuff) from the "official" spn channel and do you know if this is is even a real channel.. it has soo less follower and since this *ship* is not even close to be canon, why post then such a video? Like i said, i am new maybe i am missing some parts... but some of the few stuff i saw was that it was always clear that this ship is nowhere near canon.. so first the podcast of these extras and now the yt video on the channel... it kinda makes me sad that soo many people are always are talking about this weird ship.. and not about the beautiful relationship between the brothers.

Puhh this message really did get out of control... gosh i am so really sooo sorry!! Hope you have a nice day😊

Apologize not, dear anon! I’m more than happy to explain from my point of view.

First, know that you are not the only one, and in fact, Destiel (the diehard Hellers that is) is in the minority as far as fandom goes. They’re loud and they’re in echo chambers that occasionally escape containment and they rightly so get ridiculed and taken to task for… but I digress. They are small. They’ve made the whole show, in their minds, about this one Totally Canon Ship™️ that For Real Happened On God when… neither of those things are true.

We could try and get to the why of it, but I’m not too sure there is one definitive answer to that. They’re cry babies who think, essentially, TV shows have to cater to them because they said so.

Supernatural was never about and never will be about a “gay” angel and a “bi” hunter who are Totally Forreal Husbands Look At The (non existent) Subtext™️. The channel I’m sure was being run by a runaway heller. Go ahead and check the view counts on those videos by the way… minimal. That’s AFTER Destihellers tried to use their “influence” to get those numbers up. It’s hilarious how often they are absolutely destroyed over their delusions. It never gets better for them and never will. No matter how loud, how much they tout the “we have 1 millions fics on AO3!”, or how insistent they get with their gay lighting theories, Dean dances with a lamp which is a stand in for Casshole, etc…. They’re grasping at straws and have nothing to show for it. They are but to be pitied dear anon.

Am I any better being as I ship wincest? Yes, because wincest will never be canon, and I’m okay with that, but it’s still more canon than Destiel being as it was a American gothic horror show and one of the main themes in that genre is… fucked up family dynamics/incest.

They don’t call it LOSEcest.

Thank you for your ask and like I said do not fret and try not to feed those little beasties.

[stroodlenoodles]

Termina Characters as Fountain Pens

Starting with Daan he'd be a Waterman Hémisphère, it's fancy but not obnoxiously so

Abella is a Kaweco Steel Sport, which is basically indestructible

O'saa is a Montblanc Meisterstück (the limited edition 'Around the World in 80 Days' pen) purely because the patterns remind me of his jewellery + clothes

Olivia is a Faber-Castell Ambition Coconut, the mix of wood + chrome made sense to me

Karin is a Pelikan Souveran M1000 Renaissance Brown because OF COURSE she had to be one from the brand named after a bird lol

Pav is a Platinum #3776 Century, it's in the colour laurel green which represents victory (pretty ironic for him)

Marcoh is a Gravitas Stainless Steel Sentry because oh lawd it hefty (it weighs 84 grams!)

Levi is a Pilot V-Pen which are known to be disposable, therefore linking with his life as a child soldier. Sorry buddy...

Marina is a Sailor Pro Gear Fairy Tale in the colour Grateful Crane, mostly for vibes

Samarie is a Parker IM Achromatic Matt Black, it's literally tall, dark and skinny just like her

Tanaka is a Nakaya Heki-tamenuri, it's designed for everyday use (perfect for a business man)

Henryk is a Pilot Metropolitan, looks fancy but actually pretty reasonable

August is a Parker Centennial, vintage type

As for Caligura....

[chalkrub]

linocuts from recently :^)

[originalartblog]

Dear new followers,

Change your avatar, put anything in your title! Did you know that when lurking here, you can just hit the reblog (two arrows) button to keep a copy of the post/art on your blog and turn your blog in a scrapbook of stuff you liked? It works a lot better than just liking a post and makes people who post stuff happy! (you can also search your blog to see those posts again later that way!)

And if you made a side blog to be active on instead, know that your main blog is the visible one in follow and like notifications, so make sure to check that too!

[riddlerosehearts]

list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.

[blackheartharv]

I dont think I have the skill necessary to write fanfiction so heres my thoughts on Dick and Jason and how I would write them if I could. Okay here goes nothing.

12 year old Jason meets batman the traditional way (by getting caught trying to get his tires off the batmobile) and now he is suddenly in a world of abundance and comfort. Jason is now the son of a rich and powerful man and that causes some insecurities to flare up. He is distrustful and suspicious of Bruce initially. Jason doesn't realize that Bruce-still reeling from Dicks absence- saw tiny Jay trying to jack his tires and all he thought was "this is a small child with no home and no one to take care of him...hmm I have a home and my nest is empty, must have small child". Doesn't see that for the first few months Bruce sees an echo of Dick in all the little gestures that Jason makes (his head tilts when he's confused, his eyes sparkle when he's excited, his nose flares when he's irritated) but over time Bruce sees the ways that Jason is not Dick (he's quieter than Bruce would expect, he'll find Jason the library before he finds him in the all purpose gym, Jason hoards food like hes preparing for a war)and now he has to learn to parent a child who is "not Dick" which would be easier if Bruce would allow his heart to do the thinking for him in this one regard. There's trials and tribulations, but overall, Jason eventually feels safe and cared for, if not especially loved in the Wayne household (not that Brice didnt love Jason, he is just reeeeeeeally bad at communicating his feelings). After some time, Bruce starts training Jason to become Robin, and Jason takes to it easily and with joy. Cue the "robin gives me magic" vibes.

*Enter Dick stage left*

Dick is already Nightwing, so his visits are sporadic, but Jason can tell when he's at the manor because the atmosphere changes. There's tension between Dick and Bruce that Jason doesn't wholly understand and having Dick around is a double-edged sword. If Dick isn't dismissive and almost outright cold to Jason, he's full on yelling and fighting with Bruce. Their fights get so bad that it triggers Jason's anxiety to the point of needing to hide somewhere "safe" in the manor (usually his favorite nook in the library or at Alfreds side in the kitchen). It's weeks of this before, one day, Dick bangs his hand down on the table from frustration at something Bruce says when Jason flinches hard enough to drop the cookie he's eating. Right as they both turn to him, Jason is already out of his chair mumbling an apology before almost running out of the room. He can barely take having Bruce's stare in normal circumstances, but having both the Batman and Nightwing glares on him is too much. Dick stares after him, guilt churning in his stomach before he stands to go after him, ignoring Bruce's stern call of his name.

After looking for almost a half hour (he even tried to ask Alfred, only to receive an unimpressed eyebrow arch as a response), before he finds Jason curled up in the furthest corner of his nook, staring out the window and ignoring Dicks approach. Dick isn't shy by any means by he's almost bashful as he apologizes to Jason for seeing him like that and how he's been allowing his feelings about Bruce to get in the way of them being brothers. He explains what Robin means to him and how Bruce didn't have the right to take something that was Dicks birthright and give it to another, especially without Dicks knowing. Jason understands, and the brother bonding begins.

Even with things still being tense with Bruce, Dick's attention is Jason's favorite thing outside of being Robin. Dick smiles easily, teases and jokes with him like a big brother would, helps with homework, gives advice when asked, but what gets Jason is Dicks tactility. It's hard not to notice when Jason is now used to head ruffles, shoulder pats, and the occasional hug from Bruce. Dick would grab him around the waist and swing him around as a greeting whenever he comes by, would lean into his side as Jason makes them sandwiches for lunch in the kitchen, would run his hand through his hair as he passes behind Jason sitting on the couch, would lay his head in Jason's lap as Jason reads curled up in his-now their- nook in the library. It's a level of warmth Jason hasn't had since his mother and he basks in the attention.

Dick is busy running Bludhaven and the Titans, but he tries his best to make time for his Little Wing. Within the first week of meeting the Titans, Jason never wants to go home again. They all spoil him relentlessly, much to Dick's dismay:

(Donna keeps picking him up and flying him around the tower "Donna please that's too high, are you sure you're holding him securely? Lets maybe fly over this mound of pillows I totally didnt erect in my paranoia. Hmmm? What do you mean I'm mothering him how dare you he's just a baby-Jason I know you're 14 don't yell at me I'm only trying to keep you safe, Donna you said no loopty loops you promised"-Roy helps him make his own trick arrows "Jason this one shoots acid, whyyyy did Roy let you make this, HOW did you make this? Nvm no you can't take it with you, do you want B to kill us both? Yes you can have it back whenever you come to the tower UNDER SUPERVISION, no you can't make one that explodes, Jason I swear to god..." - Wally challenges Jason to way too many eat offs as not-so-well hidden attempts to put meat on his bones "16 wally. 16 freaking Chilli dogs are you clinically insane? No no I don't care if they're his favorite, he's puking his guts out in our bathroom and I have to take him to that gala with B in an hour, Jason hush you're still going, oh youre dying? well whose fault is that Little Wing? Wally I will literally kill you if you say I'm a mother one more time"- and Garth makes sure that the sea life know and recognize Jason as their own "Garth! Garth where is Jason? What do you mean he's still playing with the whales it's been 2 hours and 42 minutes since he's been on land, Garth he's probably a prune by now tell em to bring him back, stop mocking me are you mocking me, I'll eat a fish stick right now don't play with me bring him back NOW") but Dick wouldn't have it any other way. Having people love on Jason the way he deserves is all Dick wants for his little brother.

Over time Jason improves as Robin and Dick softens enough that his relationship with Bruce starts to improve as well. He goes out nearly every night with Bruce and Batman and Robin are an iconic duo, but inwardly Jason feels his best self is when he's under the tutelage and careful eye of Nightwing. There is a level of freedom that Dick allows Jason, his opinions are accepted more readily without fear of judgement or shut down and rapport comes easily, barbs and jokes flowing readily between them.

But that's not to say that Dick isn't a tough mentor because he is. First protege of Batman and Dick shows it in his ability to lead and his serious approach to heroism. He lets Jason have more freedom, but he also reigns him in with gentle/firm words. He listens to Jason's opinions, but he also offers rebuttals and will shut down an idea if it's too dangerous or reckless. Jason, being sensitive to criticism and with a Batman sized chip on his shoulder, tends to bite back more harshly than he should and sometimes it evolves into arguments that start out as a simple back and forth but turns to hurtful barbs being thrown at each other. At the end of the day, they're a 14 and 19 year old and sometimes they act like it :

"I totally had that guy Wing!" "Little wing he almost shot you, you can't just jump out like that you need to be more careful!" "Be more careful Jason, Be less reckless Jason, be more like Dick Jason! It's never good enough for you is it? The golden boy is always right huh?" "That's not what I said, you're acting like a spoiled brat!" "Whatever Dickface I don't need to take your shit" "Language and don't forget you little jerk, you came to ME remember?" "Oh round of applause for the good Samaritan everybody! Dickwing the savior helping out the street trash like a good boy! Make sure you dont let the street rat do too well or daddy bats might not ever love you again" "Yeah and maybe I'll just leave the 'street rat' right here and go about my business since you've got it all figured out right?You've been Robin for not even a year and almost got shot in the face tonight, but yeah you're a professional. Maybe next time you won't have Nightwing or Batman to save you, you'll just be a smear on the road and a bad memory" and sometimes it leads to them walking away from each other, both upset but too stubborn to apologize first with wounds festering...

But there are times where the apology consists of this: Jason will wait until dark and everyone is in their rooms for the night before making his way downstairs to bake Dick's favorite cookies. He'll make his way back upstairs and after knocking quietly and hearing Dicks soft reply, he'll enter Dicks room and silently place his offering on the nightstand by Dick's bed, Dick watching without comment. After, they'll just stare at each other, Dick's eyes measuring while Jason stares back, defiant even in his apology before Dick's face breaks into a small smile and he picks up a cookie and everything is forgiven.

Or this: Dick will wait until he's calmed down enough to finally make his way to Jason, who has holed himself in his room (the library is neutral territory, a place where no arguments or disagreements are allowed) to sulk. With all the audacity of an elder sibling, he will open the door without knocking and then full on tackle Jason on his bed which always leads to angry wrestling-Jason screaming bloody murder meanwhile- which leads to not-as-angry tickling which leads to cuddling in whatever sprawled out heap they end in. Jason will huff and call Dick annoying but he melts into the embrace every time.

It's through these encounters that they strengthen their bond into something damn near unbreakable and they become inseparable. Whenever Dick visits the manor, he beelines for Jason immediately, regardless of if hes there on a mission for Bruce or not. Whenever he's with the Titans, he's checking his phone for any texts or calls from his Little Wing:

"Dude your son is fine" " Shut it Wally" " Whose son? Oh, Dick? Are you still tracking his field trip?" "He's not my son, mind your business, and yes I am because he refused to tell me where he's going on this mysterious field trip-" "Gee can't imagine why-" "Donna you said you were on my side-" "and isn't it concerning that there is a side to be on?" "Guys please!"

Jason soaks up the attention like a flower first introduced to the sun. One of the first things he tells the few friends he makes in school is about his big brother. "Yeah did you know Dick could be in the Olympics? That asshole can do a quadruple flip with his eyes closed and bring home the gold but noooooo he doesn't want the publicity" "Chess? Nah I'm good but you should see my brother play, he's always one upping those old guys at the park, he's so good". He does this to Bruce too which totally doesn't make Bruce a little jealous. "Hey Dad, I'm going to see Dick this weekend" " You know you could stay home sometimes, we could watch one of those movies you like Jaylad" "No can do old man, Dick finally agreed to let me spar with Donna I can't miss it" "You're really leaving me just to go spar?" "To spar with DONNA, B there's a difference" "...if you want more advanced training I can maybe call wonderwo-" "Hold that thought B, Dick is calling- Sup dickface miss me yet? Yeah yeah I know what to bring, MOM, I'm not a baby-"

And that's the other thing that develops. It started as a joke between them, something that the Titans started way back when Jason first started visiting.

Jason calls Dick "Mom".

The jokes and the teasing over the years finally solidified into this thing between them. Jason doesn't say it often, and sometimes it's just a thought in his head, but for all intents and purposes, in his heart of hearts, there is no one more deserving of the title than Richard Grayson. There will be times where Dick is seeing Jason off to bed and as he ruffles his hair and kisses his forehead, Dick will hear a quiet "night mom" before Jason turns away to head off to his room. Times where Dick will finish saying something that'll have Jason's eyes rolling but a fond "okay mom geez" will tumble from his lips. Times where the nightmares stray a little too close to home and Dick is holding his bruised heart in his hands, vulnerability broadcasted in the way he holds himself so tightly-too tightly- to let anyone else ease the hurt but Jason squeezes through the cracks of stubbornness and frigidity with a soft "it's okay mom, I'm right here, it's okay" and will hold Dick til it passes, even if it takes all night.

These are moments Dick holds close to his heart, moments he hoards earnestly and tenderly. By this time Dick has learned about Catherine Todd, about Jason's love of his mother and how it endured almost everything,even Willis, but her drug addiction. Learns that "mom" can bind Jason in ways nothing, not even the approval of Batman, can. Learns that he holds something more fragile and volatile than a bomb and even more devastating. Luckily, Dick is the type to hold on to things, to people, so now when he hold his Little Wing he sometimes hears the echoes of 2 screams and a hard thud on a cold circus floor and thinks "this time my grip will be infallible".

[kindahoping4forever]

Via MTVLA on Tiktok

[airlock]

there's something I can never help but to notice in the way people on the internet talk about trans girls' dicks, and it's a matter of size

it's odd inasmuch as, y'know. when it comes to cis guy dick sizes, you have this interminably complex debate raging all the time

dudes are out there measuring, comparing, going "that's a nice argument but...", all in all inflicting on each other and themselves this hell malestrom (y'know what, sure, I'm throwing that typo in) of ways in which dick size is the world's most important thing. something that's theorically about having sex, but also doesn't interrogate what women think and would make fun of you for being a fag, so really it's just a front for men competing against men to be the biggest baddest alpha man.

not that you'd get a clear unissonous answer from asking women, either. by now I think most men who have ever listened to a woman, have heard all the aphorisms. it's about how it's about how you use it and not about size; inconsiderate lovers who assume their dick size will carry them can be especially painful in bed; so on and so forth. at the same time, though, women both gleefully partake in the same exercises of social approval/dismissal associated with dick size as men do, sometimes with an added layer of not really caring about dick size but using it as a metaphorical shorthand. and dick size also keeps showing up in the way women talk while they idolize male celebrities, in the erotica they write, etc and etc.

don't get me wrong; this isn't the preamble to my mass shooter manifesto. you don't generally get clear unissonous answers from women about anything, because that is around 4 billion people's worth of opinions and tastes. all of this is just to paint a picture of the strange place that cis guys' dick sizes are regarded in this world we live in. it's at once a genetic trait that can't be controlled and should not be treated as an indicator of personality, and also a symbol of social status so overwhelming that the symbolism has a life beyond the physical realities.

a cis guy's dick can be small, and that's okay and/or pathetic; a cis guy's dick can be huge, and that's insignificant and/or awesome.

but when people talk about trans girl dick. they always talk about huge dick. isn't that strange?

well, perhaps it's not if you're familiar with how trans women are treated on the internet in general. the first and foremost thing being that we're sexualized to hell and back by our enemies and appreciators alike, so of course we'll promptly be described in the crassest terms available. and just as obviously, it is that huge dicks are seen as symbols of masculinity, so there's an insidious dimension to always supposing trans women must have them. it's a pretty unsubtle member of the panoply of ways we're constantly denied femininity even by people who are supposed to be on our side, let alone the ones who aren't.

I don't know that these things explain the phenomenon by themselves, although I'm sure they remain as the leading reasons. maybe it's also just that society's baseline for how long a girl's dick should be is in the negatives, so really any length of trans girl dick compares favourably there. in that regard, "girl with a huge dick" is an especially incongruous image, and evoking it tends to make your punchlines punchier.

but perhaps most of all, at least in terms of relatively original insights here, it might also be a matter of many people still being mere fledgelings in the art of sexually appreciating trans women, and thusly these people have not honed the nuances of it.

talking up a trans girl's feminine traits might come across like you're really just thinking of cis girls or, worse, traditional femininity -- so you swing for the fences, and romanticize the huge dicks and the hairy legs and the widow's peaks. but what if you could appreciate a trans girl's qualities, not in comparison to any cis people of either binary gender, but in her own terms?

would you, then, love her dick in all shapes and sizes it might come with?

[dykeofmisfortune]

i wish i could already exist in a dynamic (homoerotic) with someone i'm totally compatible with without the tedious ordeal of Intentionally getting to know them. like going into the relationship wanting to be romantic? booooooooo. dating apps are not for me. i prefer courting people the old fashioned way by framing them for murder and gutting them on my kitchen floor

[luvbug724]

36 days.

i think we as a fandom don't talk about dan and renee enough aftg hitlist anon. i understand that renison and mattdan (?) prevail but we need to look at the sheer potential in that one short story about dan's recruitment alone. the sports rivalry turned hatred. dan only getting recruited because wymack came to watch renee. the strip club. having to unite in the face of misogynists. do you see the vision. do u see the vision aftg hitlist anon.

[tinypinkmouse]

I finished writing a tiny fill for the last Guardian bonus bingo prompt today. (I'll get around to editing it at some point too.) I've been trying to write something closer to canon with all the prompts, and it's really highlighted how few ideas I have for fic that are set at least close to canon (or post-canon everyone lives). I can manage something small to fill the prompts, but beyond that it just isn't happening.

This upsets me. I want to write things more close to canon. Something with substance. I've always wanted to wrote something plotty post-canon, but it just doesn't happen. Instead it's all just another AU repeating the exact same plot, and straying further and further from anything even remotely canon.

[allthepandasintheworld]

1, 8, 10, 11, 22, delear's choice on fandom 👀

choosing violence :)

i'm gonna go dc themed for this one (when it applies) thanks for the ask archie!!

also, as a disclaimer, it's stuff i personally dislike for whatever reason. i've filtered tags and blocked the majority of people who say/talk about these things, but occasionally posts do escape through my filters bc a lot of the shit i'm annoyed by with DC are SUPER common among the fandom (which is partially why im annoyed)

the character everyone gets wrong

BATMAN. god. not even the actual writers can write a batman i can tolerate. there are like. maybe five(?) fanfic authors whose batman takes i actually enjoy? the others are so hit or miss. i barely even browse the tags anymore it's too much emotional effort to filter through the fics that are left even if i use stringent filters

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

that clark/bruce can't have a dad bod or be pudgy or be fat. like there are SO many artists who draw them in these ways, and also? Strength isn't defined by how dehydrated you are when you flex? you need fat to pad out the muscles, or else you're going to REALLY hurt after working out so much. yes, even clark. besides, the soft look is sweet. i like it a lot. i know i draw them a bit more on the 'hunk' side, but i will defend the dad bod/chubby/fat bruce and clark truthers to my death

10. worst part of fanon

the sheer number of people who try to heteronormify a literal gay pairing

no actually it's two things: clark being nothing more than an idiot (he's allowed his himbo moments but he's also very competent!!) and bruce being... abusive? verbally or physically?? there's like two sides of fanon bruce that i strongly hate: the bordering on abusive bruces and the bruces who are aggressively baby-ified. both are. not fun. a certain amount of pathetic is fine in a man, whatever, i love rene and he's a super pathetic man, but there's like there's a point when it stops being 'ah yeah just a sad little man' and starts being 'the author is REALLY piling shit onto him and putting ALL the responsibility on the other character to fix him'.

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

ok depends on fandom but for DC? like. four? i think. no wait five, although the fifth is like sometimes hit or miss bc there ARE a lot of major character deaths (and undeaths) in canon and like i don't really care as long as it's not permanent?

but i filter a/b/o (and related tags), mpreg, incest, and rape. all are self explanatory, but just filtering the first two ALONE absolutely guts the fic count and i stare at the fic counter the way you might watch a horror protagonist just barely get away from the killer without realizing it. am i saying the fandom has rank-ass taste? yes. actually. who knew so many people had a kink for bioessentialism?

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

in THIS big of a fandom i feel like there isn't a lot that people ignore? like there's something for everybody, and i mean everybody. although i do feel like a disproportionate number of people prefer batman and the batfam over superman and the superfam and im really sad about that bc people automatically write them off as 'good is boring', and the canon writers often do the same. which like. guys. cmon. it's not 'boring' to put your entire (superpowered) might into uprooting the deeply entrenched weeds of oppressive systems in the world and looking forward to a brighter future. that's why we fight?? isn't it? so we can have a better tomorrow??? superman isn't boring at all, happiness and hope isn't boring. hope and happiness find meaning in knowing that they are not the default, that we have to work hard and struggle for it!! anyways. i do follow some people who talk about this so it's not entirely ignored, but like in the wider ship spaces i do NOT see enough people talking about this specific element of superman. i think they all just think he's hot. which i agree with. but i ALSO think he's cool and interesting and more than just his appearance.

[vole-mon-amour]

I reached 30 tags so screw it:

if they made it like Silco and Vander had a fallout way before the Mom's death, it could've kinda worked 'cause Vi could've recognized Vander but not Silco, so Jinx still jumps into a stranger's embrace and Silco ends up raising her.

but then again, Vander tried to murder Silco WAY before that scene in the bar in s2. Vander looks way older, even though Silco looks completely different to what we see in flashback in s1.

it's like they didn't put any effort at ALL. it doesn't match. it doesn't make sense. was s1 good on a accident? should have they tried to at least get rid of inconsistencies? or don't go with the theory in s2? because so far it truly looks like "this is the story we wanted to tell" vs "this is the story we actually told" and now it's two completely different stories.

ugh.

I think ignoring s2 and treating s1 as a standalone might be the best choice here, cause s2 is definitely not going to work with the story they told in s1. what a shame.

The Vander/Silco Shitshow - generic, juvenile, and gimmicky slop

So, I think that Vander/Silco flashback was terrible. Tropey, careless, juvenile, clichéd bullshit that stripped away everything that made their season 1 story nuanced and poignant, while simultaneously ripping open a fat plot hole because the team got careless and did not catch the discrepancy between the story they'd written in their heads and the visuals that ended up on screen in season 1. This is just going to be a long rant post detailing the reasons I absolutely despised this flashback. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just my (strongly held) opinion.

1) The timeline plot hole

No, I'm not misusing the term. So a plot hole is an inconsistency in a fictional narrative that cannot be explained away by any plausible in-universe justifications. There are many moments of weak writing in Arcane that may be contrived, rushed, weird, convenient, etc. but aren't plot holes.

This Vander/Silco situation however. Oh boy. If you all remember, Season 1 opened with the bridge massacre, also known as the Day of Ash. Vander is shown cracking enforcers' skulls. He looks like this.

The sisters, seemingly recognizing him, ask him where their parents are. He gestures to their corpses, the sisters cry, Vander has his "violence is not the answer" epiphany, drops the gauntlets very dramatically to underscore this massive turning point of character development for him, then picks the girls up and leaves the bridge.

In episode 3, we are shown a flashback. Vander is trying to kill Silco in the river. He looks like this.

Let's compare this to how he looked like on the Day of Ash.

Yeah. According to the visuals shown in Season 1, the falling out of Vander and Silco seems to have occured in the past before the Day of Ash, evidenced by how much younger Vander looks. Unless Silco is a time traveller who jumped forward to the future to throw a molotov at the riot because he just loves violent extremism that much, or Vander took the time to shave his beard and apply heavy duty anti-aging lotion on his face before hunting Silco down, there are no plausible in-universe explanations for this inconsistency. Not to mention, if Silco and Vander were really as close as brothers and the sisters knew Vander, then it's impossible they wouldn't have known who Silco was.

Yet, in Season 1, that's exactly what we see - not a single sliver of recognition between Silco and the girls, nothing to imply they knew of his existence before episode 3. Not a single conversation between Jinx and Silco implied that he knew, let alone was close to, her mother. Nothing from Vi throughout the entire first season indicated that she knew of his past friendships with her mother and Vander. They acted like total strangers to each other.

Many fans already caught this inconsistency during the three-year gap after writers' comments online implied Silco was involved in the Day of Ash. We had hoped the writers would catch on to this discrepancy too and either iron out the timeline if they want to do serious flashbacks, or just avoid calling attention to it completely by not doing flashbacks of their falling out. Alas.

2) Leonardo Dicaprio pointing meme

Death to the everybody-knows-everyone trope and lines that only exist to invoke the "Leonardo Dicaprio pointing" meme. Throw them into a fucking fire. Boring, mind-numbing, clichéd, overdone garbage. Not every character needs to have some kind of half-baked relation with each other. Not every major incident needs to be tied back to the main characters. Not every single detail needs to be overexplained and justified and again, somehow tied to a main character. They are unnecessary, and make the world feel so much more claustrophobic and smaller than it should be.

"The enforcers actually commited the Day of Ash massacre because SILCO threw a molotov. Vander actually tried to kill Silco because of VI AND JINX'S mother. She knew both Silco and Vander personally and TOLD THEM to help her raise her kids. VANDER named Vi."

Bullshit like this really fucks with immersion, because it becomes clear very quickly that the world is only occupied by a small handful of real characters while the thousands of other people in it are nothing more than inconsequential set dressing and wallpaper. The story and world no longer feel real, vast, and immersive. And these forced "connections" between main characters are so obviously manufactured to generate "OUGHHH" and Dicaprio pointing reactions. Idk about anyone else, but it takes me completely out of the story when I can obviously tell the writing is trying too hard to blow my mind.

The girls' mom waltzing up to Vander and Silco and just. Fucking telling them to help her with her kids lmfaoooooooo. (OUGHH and they both really ended up raising her kids WOAGH😱🤯). Jinx's mom saying choosing a name is stressful because her child will feel stuck with it (GASP and Powder ended up changing her name WOOOOWW😱). Vander coming up with Vi's fucking name. (OUGHHHH HE REALLY WAS MEANT TO BE FATHER ALL ALONG WOADGHHGHDHDH🤯🤯🤯).

Fucking kill me. Arcane Season 1 was surprisingly good precisely because they DIDN'T, for the most part, resort to tropey bullshit like this. It had, for the most part, originality. Uniqueness. In fact all the strongest aspects of Season 1, aspects I loved, were deliberate subversions of overdone clichés. For Season 2 to resort to this kind of writing reminiscent of Disney slop is insanely disappointing.

I'm waiting for a character to unironically say, "What are we, some kind of League of Legends?" in Act 3 now.

3) "Ohhhhh so THAT'S why he did that!!!!!!!!!"

Also death to overexplanations and giving justifications for things that never needed justifications. You know what I was never confused by while watching Season 1 of Arcane? Why Vander adopted the girls. Why Silco adopted Jinx. Why both came to care for their girls so much, they were willing to sacrifice so much for them. I thought the reasons for those things were very clear and poignant in the first season. I never needed an extra on-the-nose justification for the adoptions in the form of, "they wuved yo mama". It's not only redundant, it's also one of the most tired ass tropes in fiction. To me, Vander taking in the girls and Silco taking in Jinx are so much more powerful if they really were just random guys with no real connection to the girls' parents.

But I've already seen some positive reactions to this flashback with "Ohhhhh so THAT's why Silco/Vander cared for the girls so much, now I understand😯🤯😓" mf what exactly did you not understand before??

4) Character motivations

The motivations of both Vander and Silco are made downright bizarre by this flashback. So Silco was hellbent on murdering Vi last season, despite being close friends with her mom whose death he may feel guilty for? Literally despised her and wanted to kill her the entire time with no hesitation lol. So Vander had that aforementioned dramatic moment of character development, dropped the gauntlets, realized violence wasn't the answer, and carried the kids to safety... then doubled back to violently hunt down and murder Silco? But not before shaving his beard and applying youthful lotion of course. Can't kill your bro while looking crusty. Then he failed to kill Silco so he just... went back to the kids and pretended like nothing happened? Lol.

Silco being close to, let alone loving, the girls' parents makes no fucking sense for his character. Vander knowing them at least makes sense, but casual friends would have sufficed. "I was lowkey crushing (?????) on your mom and also named you" just cheapened the entire Vander/Vi and Silco/Jinx surrogate father dynamic. Vander's motivation for killing Silco being yet another fridged woman is also weak as fuck. First Viktor with Sky, and now Vander/Silco. They really should have left this one up to our imaginations if this was the boring tripe they came up with.

[gamereign]

❛  you’re a little obsessive, aren’t you?  ❜(Mokuba, def about Yuugi and Big Bro LOL)

           𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄  :    prompted   /   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒  :    accepting  .ᐟ.ᐟ

𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 ,   𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐆𝐈  𝐈𝐒  𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐈𝐍  𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 .    some  may  be  so  inclined  as  to  think  of  this  as    peculiar ,   given  that  it’s  something  of  a  running  joke  that  the  ceo  and  his    ‘  FAVORITE  EMPLOYEE  ’     unofficially  share  an  office ,     given  that  ninety -  nine  point  nine  percent  of  the  time ,     anyone  at  kaibacorp  who  is  looking  for    𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮  𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐠𝐢     will  find  him  somewhere  amid  seto’s  spacious  corporate  dwelling .    

           sometimes ,     he  can  even  be  found    sitting  behind  his  desk   if  seto  is  stuck  in  a  long  meeting  without  him ,     or  busy  with  some  other  event  or  task ,     and  that  alone  has  caused  whispers  at  the  company  that  their  relationship  goes  far  beyond  just  work ,     or  even  friendship .    ANYONE  ELSE     would  have    𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋  𝐓𝐎  𝐏𝐀𝐘     for  being  so  bold  as  to  sit  upon  kaiba  seto’s    throne  ,     yet ,     whenever  he  returns  to  his  office  and  finds  yuugi  perched  there ,     waiting  for  him ,     his  reaction  is  shockingly     [     .  .  .     ]     𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘  . 

           but  today  is  different .     yuugi’s  office  is  a    tidy  ,     somewhat  minimalist     space  due  to  the  fact  that  he  rarely  uses  it    (   apparently ,     it  had  belonged  to  some    𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗛  -  𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗔𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡     before  they’d  had  a    falling  out     with  seto  and  found  their  belongings  packed  up  in    boxes     within  the  hour    )  ,   and  he  manages  to  look  significantly  less  comfortable  there  than  whenever  he’s    glued  to  seto’s  side     or  at  least  surrounded  by  traces  of  him    (   often ,     even  just  his  scent  is  soothing  enough ,     that  distinctive  mix  of  his  signature    𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐄     and  his  naturally  clean  but  spicy  fragrance  that’s  all  but  a    𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆   to  yuugi    )  .    𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 ,    seto  has  been  tied  up  by  a  string  of  meetings  for  hours  on  end ,     leaving  mokuba  in  charge  of  executive  duties  and  yuugi  heading  the  project  they’ve  been  working  on  for  the  past     six months     with  a  deadline  steadily  approaching ,     visible  on  the  horizon .

           beyond  that ,     hq  is  full  of  guests  from  an  overseas  company  with  which  seto  has  been  considering  an    EXTENSIVE  DEAL    ━━━━     hence  the    disgustingly long  meetings    ━━━━     and  yuugi  ought  to  be  stationed  where  he’s    𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚  𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅  𝒕𝒐  𝒃𝒆    in  case  any  of  them  come  looking  for  him  with  inquiries  or  any  other  needs  he  can  meet .     mokuba  should  be  on  his  post ,     too ,     thus ,     yuugi  is  a  little  surprised  when  he  enters  the    ironically  unfamiliar     space .    PLEASANTLY  SO ,    albeit .     yuugi  is  always  glad  to  see  mokuba .

           the  words  elicit  a  series  of  wide -  eyed  blinks  from  yuugi ,     who ,     at  first ,     isn’t  sure  what  mokuba  could  be  insinuating .     yet ,     it  doesn’t  take  long  for  the    𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘  𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬     to  dawn  on  him ;     the  fact  that  he  looks  out  of  place  in  his  own  office ,    and  miserably  so ,   because  he  hasn’t  seen  seto  since  eight -  thirty  this  morning  and  the  clock  is  ticking  toward    ONE  -  THIRTY     presently .     he  gives  an    𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚  ,     𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅  𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉  ,   fingers  skating  along  the  keyboard  of  his  desktop  without  applying  enough  pressure  to    actually  type  anything     ━━━━     it  looks  as  if  it’s  only  an    𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱  𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸     to  keep  otherwise  idle  hands  busy .

            “     maybe  ,     ”     he  half -  admits ,     shifting  to  prop  his  chin  up  on  the  heel  of  a  pale  hand .     amid  the  motion ,     the  neatly -  cuffed  sleeve  of  his  shirt  slides  down ,     exposing  the  smooth  expanse  of  a    bony ,     dainty  wrist ,   and  the  silver  and  leather  cuffs  he’s  nigh  on    NEVER     seen  without .    “     you  make  it  sound  so  pathetic  ,     ”     he  giggles ,     feeling  his  cheeks  burn  at  being  caught  looking  so    𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲    on  the  clock .    

            briefly ,     he  glances  behind  mokuba  to  ensure  that  the  door  is  closed  before  reinstating  eye  contact .    “     i’ve  loved  your  brother    a  long  time  ,     ”    yuugi  reveals ,     stars  of  adoration  alight  in  his    twilight  eyes  .     “     it  still  kind  of  feels  like  a  dream  that  we’re   together  now  ,     and  i  guess  i  still  feel  this  urge  to  make  up  for  all  the  time  that  was  lost  ,     where  neither  of  us  told  the  other  how  we  felt     [     .  .  .     ]     ”     yuugi  attempts  to    take  a  page  from  seto’s  book     and  be  as     𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋     as  possible  in  this  explanation ,     but  he  can’t  help  but  look  a  little    𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚  ,   as  if  just    𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁     his  beloved  is  enough  to  make  him  want  to  melt .    “     so  sometimes     [     .  .  .     ]     being  apart  is  kinda  hard  .     ”

           again ,     he  giggles ,     resisting  the  urge  to  hide  his  face  behind  his  hands .    “     you  must  think  this  is  gross  ,     ”     says  yuugi ,     words  aerated  by  soft ,     tender  laughter .     he  and  seto  try  to  keep  things   CHASTE     around  mokuba ,    they’ve  never  even  kissed  in  front  of  him    (   at  least ,     not  knowingly    )  ,   more  than  aware  that  it’s  the  last  sight  any  kid  would  want  to  see��.     but  there  are  some  things  they  just  can’t  hide ,    𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦  𝑦𝑢𝑢𝑔𝑖  ,     whose  heart  is  permanently  𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱  𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼  𝗵𝗶𝘀  𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲  .   

            “     one  day  ,     when  you  feel  really  strongly  about  someone  ,     i  think  you’ll  understand  ,     ”     yuugi  tells  him ,     a  fond  smile  etched  between  his  lips  as  he  looks  at  mokuba ,     and  a  fleeting ,    BITTERSWEET   thought  about  him  growing  up    right  before  his  very  eyes     makes  his  heart  feel  beautifully  heavy .    “     i  know  you’re  just  teasing  me  ,     though  .     but  maybe  i  deserve  it  .     ”

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?” 

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 

“Did he…say we were?” 

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

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