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i-talk-too-much · 2 years

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A Misunderstanding (Part 1)

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,945

Warnings: almost sexual assault, smut in later chapters, attempted robbery

A/N: this was requested! there will either be more than two parts, or just another part. only time will tell. hopefully y’all enjoy!

(Part 2)

Summary: You and Dick were childhood friends before you both drifted apart - him living with Bruce and you moving away. You are reunited after you move to Gotham and Nightwing saves you from a criminal.

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16 Years Ago

You sat on the benches, jittering on the edge of your seat as you watched your friend, Dick, swing on the trapeze with the net set below him. You were always in awe when you watched him. The way he jumped and spun in the air made your eyes shimmer – his actions making him look free. The grin on his face expressed the joy and satisfaction he felt and you knew then that he belonged here, flying through the air. He was part of The Flying Graysons after all.

When Dick was finished practicing, he jumped off the ledge, landing atop the safety net. A giggle escaped his mouth when his body gently rocked up and down as the net settled. He always liked jumping into the net when he was done.

You bolted up and ran to him, wanting to help him out and praise him on the newest trick he learned. As he moved across the net, his hand found yours, holding onto it as he jumped down. Your hands remained intertwined as he stood next to you and you two began walking to the benches where Dick's water bottle and towel sat.

"Dickie, that was amazing!" You chattered excitedly. "The way you spun in the air was just…” Your sentence ended with a dreamy sigh, the hand holding his swinging energetically back and forth. He matched your energy and swung your hand with the same force.

"Thanks, I've been practicing that for weeks!" His face was almost animated – his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes bright and lively. His smile was infectious – as it always was – and a smile quirked your lips involuntarily.

"I can't wait to see the show," you said, grinning. "I got tickets and everything! I'm going to come as early as I can to get the best seats." You remembered last year when you came late and had to sit in the back, too far to see Dick's face clearly. You pouted the entire time and he had to give you a hug after the show to cheer you up.

A laugh bubbled on his lips at your words.

"Yeah, you don't want to be stuck by the wall again, huh?" He dropped your hand once you reached the benches to pick up his bottle and took a big gulp, grateful for the cool liquid running down his throat.

You picked up the towel and wiped his face once he put down the bottle. He closed his eyes and let you do so, moving his head to give you better access to his neck. You spoke.

"Do you know what city you're going to next?" You weren't too curious, but you wanted to keep talking to fill the air. The acute awareness that he was leaving soon made your heart lurch.

He always visited your city every year and stayed at most for two weeks. You had met him two years ago when your family took you to watch Haley's circus act after your incessant pleading. When your family stayed after the show to meet The Flying Graysons, you and Dick hit it off immediately – with the two of you being the same age. You hung out every day after that before he had to leave for the next city. Now, you visited him each day when he was in your area, cherishing every moment you spent together.

"I think it's Gotham City," he replied, a light note in his voice. "I've never been there before so I'm excited."

The anticipation he felt was clear, his hands curled into fists from the excitement as he brought them up to pump the air. You smiled a little at his enthusiasm but the feeling of sadness dampened the intensity of it. Your face visibly fell as the feeling became stronger. It was a few days before he had to leave. The circus typically left soon after the show was over.

Dick's grin quickly vanished when he noticed your expression, his hands immediately lowering and unfurling at his sides.

"What's wrong?" He asked, the worry evident in his tone. You didn't meet his eyes, your arms wrapped around yourself.

"I don't want you to leave already." Your words were quiet. Heat rose to your cheeks at having exposed your innermost thoughts.

Dick surged forward and threw his arms around you, making you step back at the force of it. Your arms moved to circle around him, holding him tightly.

"I'll come back, Y/N. Don't worry," he said firmly. "I'll send you lots of postcards like I always do! I'll even add more pictures so you don't forget what I look like."

The last sentence made you giggle.

"I'll never forget what you look like, Dickie." You buried your face into his neck but pushed away from him when you felt his sweat touch your face. "Ewwww!"

Dick burst into laughter, doubling over when he saw the look of pure disgust on your features. You scrubbed at your face with your arms and huffed with embarrassment.

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, wiping away tears, and reached out to hold your hand, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. "I’m really gonna miss you."

Your cheeks heated once more and your fingers tightened around his own.

"I'll miss you a lot, too," you breathed out. "Promise me that you'll be okay. I don't want you falling and breaking your head." You accompanied your words with a furrow of your brows, trying to appear as stern as a nine-year-old could.

"I promise," he drawled out, like a child listening to their parent repeat the same rule over and over again. At that, you grinned, satisfied with his response and tugged at his hand to follow you.

"Come on! I want to say bye to your parents before I go." You rushed to the back rooms with Dick in tow, him gaining speed and moving to pull you instead.

Shortly after bidding the three of them farewell, you ran off home before your family would scold you for staying out too long. That night, you dreamt of a large open field, running after Dick while the two of you laughed joyfully.

Three days later, you watched Dick and his parents swing from one side of the center stage to the other. Their graceful jumps and twirls were always a wonder to behold. The gasps and the amazement from the audience made your heart swell – pride filled all of your being. When the entire show was over, you ran to Dick and swept him in a tight hug. A bad feeling was rushing over you, but you chalked it up to him having to leave, and nothing more.

Had you known what was going to happen, you would’ve prolonged your time together – at least a little bit – and hugged his parents. They were always kind to you and gifted you candy when you visited their son. Instead, you left with little more than a goodbye and made your way home, already wishing the year passed quickly.

A few days after the circus crew packed up the tent and all their materials, Dick left your city, beginning his travel to Gotham. Not even a week had passed and your family unexpectedly told you the news that you will all move to another city in less than a week – where the pay was better.

You started tearing up. You didn’t want to leave the place where you grew up or any of your friends. Your family comforted you. They told you that you’d easily make new friends – you had a bright and kind personality that made you get along effortlessly with others.

It wasn’t until all your stuff was loaded into the car and you sat in the backseat, that you remembered Dick didn’t know you were moving. He had no way of knowing your new address and you couldn’t send him a letter – you didn’t know if they arrived at Gotham yet, or what address Haley’s Circus accepted letters from. You resigned yourself to the belief that Dick would one day visit your new city and the both of you would reunite.

Of course, that never happened.

Dick’s parents were caught in a brutal accident while performing in Gotham, leading to Bruce Wayne taking him in as his ward. You cried when you heard the news – memories of his kind and loving parents made your chest hurt. You could only imagine how painful it was for him – they were his parents, after all.

Two months after the horrific tragedy, you gathered the courage to send him a letter. In it, you wrote all about how much you wanted to hold him, help him get through this. That you wanted to be by his side and show him he’s not alone. You added your address so he could send a message back and you eagerly waited, hoping to get the chance to see him one day.

Only, he never replied.

——

Present Day

You rushed home from Gotham University, making sure to the best of your abilities that you weren’t being followed by anyone suspicious. It was already past 10 o’clock at night, so you were being careful – Gotham was infamous for its ‘lively’ nightlife, after all.

You had lost track of time in the library, studying for the final that was next week. If you passed this exam, you would be one step closer to receiving your graduate degree. You worked tirelessly for it. Having a part-time job to help pay for the tuition meant having less time for your classes, but you made do. At least the rent was cheap.

You decided to cut through an empty alleyway. Up ahead was your apartment building so you felt that the shortcut was worth it. The silent figure creeping up behind you, however, made you realize otherwise.

You felt the cold blade of the knife at your neck before the sound of the person’s harsh voice.

“Give me all your money, lady.”

Your breath hitched, cold sweat beginning to drip down your back. You swallowed, feeling the knife shift from the movement.

“Okay,” you said, your voice shaky. “My wallet’s in m-my bag, so give me a second.”

“Hurry up.”

At that, your fingers moved to dig into your bag, your panic making you fumble more than you would’ve liked. More than he liked.

“Fucking hell, hurry up!”

You flinched at the bellow of his voice, the shake of your body growing more intense. Finally, you found your wallet and quickly held it out to the side of you for him to take. He roughly snatched it out of your hands and the knife shifted off your neck. His hands moved to open the wallet to check the contents, giving you the chance to rush forward and escape.

“Hey!” He yelled out. He quickly caught up to you and yanked on your hand to pull you backwards – the force so strong that it sent you tumbling onto the ground, your bag’s contents littering across the concrete. You yelped at the pain that spread through your hands and bottom. “Since when did I say you were free to go?”

He stood above you now, his looming figure more terrifying now that you were facing him. The cruel coldness was almost radiating off his being. An apathetic expression on his face was faintly visible in the dimly lit alleyway.

“I-I gave you all my money! I don’t have anything else!”

His lips curled up as his tongue jutted out to wet them – a disgusting grin that expressed just what he wanted of you. “You sure? I know something else you could give me.”

Your eyes widened and your breaths came out unevenly. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t–

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. A yell was almost bubbling in the back of your throat – you needed to scream out, get someone’s attention. Anyone’s attention.

But before you could, the man standing in front of you was slammed into the wall – a pained ‘oof’ leaving his throat. The force of the collision was strong enough to knock him out, as was evident from his body remaining motionless on the floor. You didn’t dare move.

A man in a black and blue spandex suit crouched above him, checking his pulse, before he turned to you. You noticed the blue symbol on his chest, faintly registering it to belong to one of the vigilantes that worked with Batman. You stayed quiet, wanting to see what he would do next.

“Are you alright?” His voice was gentle and firm – fitting of a hero. You let out the breath you were holding and allowed yourself to move.

“No,” you replied honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. You attempted to stand up, but your legs couldn’t hold your weight with how much they trembled. You lurched to the side and your savior rushed forward, holding you up so you didn’t collapse onto the floor. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” He steadied you and let go once he was sure that you wouldn’t be meeting the ground anytime soon. His gaze dropped down and you followed, noticing all the stuff that splayed from your bag.

You shot back down to the floor, hurriedly trying to gather all your things so you could finally escape the narrow alleyway. He knelt by you as well, moving to assist you. His fingers landed on your wallet and the fallen ID next to it, picking it up and reading the printed name.

“Y/N L/N?”

Your eyes moved away from your bag and to his face. His eyes were already on you, seemingly searching your features. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh,” he faltered, looking away. “That’s a nice name.” His voice sounded tense.

Your brows furrowed. “Thank…you?”

With that, he placed your ID into your wallet and handed it to you, your fingers brushing ever-so-slightly.

“Let me walk you home.” His voice almost sounded eager, but that couldn’t be right. Maybe he offered that for every person he saved?

“No, it’s okay,” you politely declined, adjusting your bag then pointing. “My apartment is right over there.”

He glanced in that direction but refocused his attention on you. Something in the way his body rigidly stood made it seem like he didn’t want to leave you be. Yet, he resignedly moved to the side.

“Right. I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said, his voice adopting a casual tone. You made to walk past but stopped before leaving, turning towards him.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You looked up at him, a small smile forming on your lips. “Thank you for saving me. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve…” Your voice trailed off, the implication obvious from the previous situation. “Just, thank you.”

“Of course.” The corners of his lips tugged upwards, dimples forming on his cheeks. You returned with a grateful nod of your head, turning away and walking the short distance to your building. All the while, feeling his stare simmer on your back.

Once inside your apartment, you dropped your bag onto the kitchen table, allowing the gravity of what almost transpired to wash over you.

You were almost sexually assaulted. If it wasn't for Nightwing swooping in and rendering the man unconscious, he would've forced you to do disgusting things. Your body shuddered at the thought.

The relief that accompanied the dread in your being made you aware of the pain that coursed through you. Your hands stung from harshly scraping against the concrete floor when you were knocked over. You checked them, seeing dried and fresh blood seeping out of your wounds. This wasn't going to be fun, you thought.

You were right – sitting at the table with your first aid kit and painfully cleaning the bloody mess made you curse outward, almost yelling everytime the hydrogen peroxide touched your skin. After countless minutes of painstaking cleaning, your hands were bandaged and free from any risk of an infection.

You yawned, glancing at the clock. 11:53 PM. Your day tomorrow was already shaping up to be hell.

——

For the next few days, you had the unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

After the incident with the mugger, you made sure to not stay out past sundown, but even so, you repeatedly felt eyes on you. Your gaze constantly darted to your surroundings, checking rooftops and alleyways. You were sure you looked insane, but with the resulting paranoia, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was four days later that you saw Nightwing again. You were sitting on your couch, working on an assignment when a knock sounded through the living room. Your brows furrowed. It didn’t seem like it came from your front door.

The knock sounded again. This time, you realized it came from your window. Your body tensed, irrationally thinking it was that mugger from the other night. You slowly creeped your way to the window, pushing the curtains away and peering outside. You yelped and almost stumbled when you saw the face peering back.

Nightwing. What was he doing here? And how did he know which window was yours?

His lips were moving. Open the window, he mouthed. You scrambled to do so, lifting the window with great force.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t keep the bewilderment from your voice. The man was crouched on your fire escape, one hand resting on the railing.

He hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth, remembering what it was he came here for.

“I came to check up on you, make sure you were okay.” His tone was even, no hint of his inner thoughts. Your face was still scrunched in confusion.

“Well,” you responded. “I’m doing perfectly fine. Besides my messed up hands, anyway.” He glanced when you displayed them, splaying your fingers to show the damage. “They’re not too bad now, though.”

You saw the twitch of his brow at the sight of your wounds.

"You didn't tell me you were injured," he said, voice low.

You shrugged. “Didn't realize 'til I got home."

His mouth tightened slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. You were shocked to realize you were staring at his lips so much to even notice.

“Can I take a look at your hands? To make sure that they’re healing okay.” His hand gestures conveyed that he wanted to do so inside your apartment, where the lighting was much better.

Analyzing his facial expression for a moment, you recognized the obvious signs of concern. You thought it over, thinking that if he wanted to hurt you he would’ve done so already. That idea sent you nodding before you even realized, opening your mouth to accept his request. “Okay.”

You stepped aside and he pushed open the window further, allowing himself to crawl through. His feet softly thudded against your wooden floors. He hummed appreciatively as he surveyed your apartment. “Nice place. Cozy.”

You snorted. “Thanks, I made sure to make it look nice. Just for you,” you joked, the sarcasm thick in your voice. “Do you want to sit on the couch?”

He moved to the couch instead of answering, taking a seat on one end and looking at you expectedly – so you did the same. When you settled into the spot next to him, he took your hand gently and lifted it palms up. His fingers deftly undid the bandage that wrapped around it and his eyes expertly analyzed the wound. While he was occupied, you took that moment to observe his features.

His hair was dark, nearly black. The wavy strands looked silky and you almost wanted to glide your other hand through them. From his hair, your eyes traveled to his face. The mask that adorned it left his nose and mouth free, allowing you to admire the shape of his lips. They didn’t look dry, a trait that made you quirk your head internally. You thought the cold air blowing on them constantly would’ve dried them out.

A gentle poke on your palm pulled your attention away from his face. His finger traced the edges of the wound, the sensation making you want to scratch at it. What was he doing?

Your question still wasn’t answered when he looked up, your eyes locking. He gazed at you silently and you continued your previous observation, this time with his face now towards you. His jawline was sharp, the shape attractively masculine.

You couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something about him that made you feel like you knew him already. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke – it all felt familiar. Like it was on the tip of your tongue. Before you could voice your thoughts, he spoke.

“It looks good. No sign of an infection.” His tone was quiet, calm. He skillfully rewrapped your palm and you took your hand back, now feeling awkward in the silence that ensued. You wanted to ask him if you met him before, but every time you opened your mouth, you couldn’t figure out how to word it properly and ended up shutting your mouth. Finally, you decided to just ask him outright.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Your words were accompanied by the quirk of your brow and tilting yourself closer to him. He shifted in his seat, slightly angling his body away from you, seemingly surprised by the question.

“What makes you say that?” He sounded casual, purposefully relaxing his body to portray an air of calm. It bothered you that you could read him so easily. You shouldn’t be able to read him so easily.

“I don’t know – there’s just something about you. It’s like I met you before.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, an almost cocky smile gracing his face. But it felt wrong. “Maybe you’ve just seen my face on the papers. I am a superhero, you know.”

You pursed your lips into a hard line, unimpressed by his pseudo arrogance.

“That. That right there.” You pointed your finger at him. “I can tell you’re faking that.” A snort left his lips and you scoffed, realizing where his mind went. “You know what I mean.”

He lifted his hands up in mock-resignation and stood up, pacing towards the window. “And I stand by what I said. Maybe you’ve just seen my face one too many times on the internet.” He turned towards you. “And now that you've seen me in person, it feels like you’ve met me before,” he said, shrugging.

You didn’t agree with his logic, but you didn’t want to keep discussing it if he was so eager to avoid the question. You got up from the couch and made your way over to the window, lifting it up for the man in front of you.

“If you say so,” you mumble. He climbed through and turned back around once he was fully on the fire escape.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Try not to stay out so late again, alright?” He didn’t wait for a response before he shot out his grappling hook and lept off, swinging into the city.

“Goodnight,” you whispered into the chilled air. You shut the window before going back to your discarded laptop. The assignment that was due this week seemed so miniscule when superheroes existed. You sunk back into the couch and resumed what you were doing before Nightwing arrived. Your head fell backwards when your mind couldn’t focus, only thoughts of him filling your brain. This was going to be a long night.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson #dick grayson fic #im still figuring out things to tag #what else is there #is this truly angst or fluff? I mean #not yet? idk man #A Misunderstanding

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h4msanta · 8 months

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otter man :)

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanart #neuvillette #old man!! old man and his shell!!#idk how to draw him yet but hes so very endearing ough #ham makes art

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peridyke · 3 months

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my standard for future lesbian media is kinda set by the chainsaw man dyke with four demon girlfriends who she has on screen sex with

#txt #on screen might not be the right word cause they arent animated yet but idk what a better word would be #ok they are fiends not demons but the average layman isnt familiar eith chainsaw man lore

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inkskinned · 9 months

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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

#i used to think it was romantic too and then i was like. now i see it as a HUGE red flag #writeblr #it is also almost EXCLUSIVELY said by immature ppl who think this is normal #fyi even if u think it's funny and ur like 'im an introvert it's just TRUE' like. you need therapy (ily tho)#healed introversion is just ''i would prefer to be by myself'' not ''i hate every person'' ... hate is not normal. that is not healthy #im sorry. i know it feels accurate. but if you're walking around with that kind of rage....#1. you're making a LOT of assumptions about every single person u have ever met. which is often unfair and unkind #and also usually involves judging people based on their worst moments or little mistakes #2. you are being unfair to the person who is ur ''exception''#3. there is a VAST difference between ''ur my favorite person'' and ''the ONLY person i like.''#idk i think this is just a personal bias thing tbh #im sure there are people who have this experience normally #but i have YET to find a man who thinks like this and ISNT absolute DOGSHIT. although tbh.... like. im sure he exists #when u hit like 30 some of the things that were once kind of hot now just sound fucking exhausting. like ''im in a band''#edit in the tags: i used to kind of be like this too. but the thing is that like. my life became so much more peaceful #once i started believing that people are generally good. like yes i am mad at the world at large #but it's just.... a very hard way to live. you're not a bad person or wrong for the ways other people hurt you and taught you to be angry.#but that anger will continue to hurt YOU. it will punish YOU. it will prevent YOU from making new deep connections. it will protect you yes #but it will also cause MASSIVE blowback. bc if you lose the One Person... your life will fall apart. i know this personally.#i really recommend just trying to be... cautiously optimistic instead. like. yes #people can be horrible and cruel and there are some communities (incels for example) that aren't worth that optimism #but i think like... most people will hold a door for you . most people want to help you find your wallet .#i hope one day you are able to find peace. i hope that rage eventually smooths over. i know how hard it is PERSONALLY #and i know what must have happened to you. and im deeply deeply sorry we share the same wound.#but i promise - sometimes we all need someone else to help us carry the weight. eventually the rage has to die so that we can let help in #i had to spend years biting at outstretched hands. i still often do. im still very wary . and my heart breaks that you flinch too.#here's the thing: i don't blame you. but we were both acting out of fear and pain. .... not out of healthy behavior. and ... change #was needed. i needed change too. rage was useful for a while. then it just left me isolated and bitter. i had to (with effort)#choose to let that rage go. and let people in . VERY SLOWLY THO LOL

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wolfythewitch · 5 months

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Just a heads up. I know a lot of my audience came from mcyt so it skews a bit younger but I will be drawing very varied content that may or may not end up suggestive! I won't draw like anyone fucking or anything but like. Ya know. You may see an ass every now and then idk

I like drawing tasteful nudity it's fun and you gotta keep in mind that the body isn't inherently sexual. I will tag if it's got like outright genitalia (though I doubt I'd be drawing any of that lol)

#yup #this isnt any different than most of what i post i just wanted to put that out there #because of the sheer amount of asks i get like “why is this character naked??”#idk man clothes weren't invented yet in the garden of eden

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solarpunkani · 1 year

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Hot 4am take but I feel like if we want to get people more interested in making their yards a more habitable space for wildlife like insects, we have to acknowledge that ‘Don’t want bugs in your house’ is still a 100% fair and valid point of view. ‘Loves nature’ and ‘doesn’t want roaches spiders and mosquitoes in the house’ aren’t opposites.

And with that in mind, when we propose to people that spraying pesticides around houses is Not A Good Idea, Actually, I feel like we need to give an alternative asides from ‘deal with it.’

#solarpunk #anti pesticides #ani rambles #this is coming from personal opinion at 4am keep that in mind but like #I’m scared of roaches. i’m fine with them outside though #my parents dont like roaches and for good reason. they spray Ortho Home Defense along the veeery edge of the concrete by the doors to #keep roaches and shit from coming in because yknow. Florida.#if I tell them ‘hey actually we shouldn’t spray pesticides inside (ie raid spray) or outside (ie home defense)#theyre gonna ask wtf to do instead to prevent roaches #and if I tell them ‘nothing suck it up buttercup’ they’re gonna laugh and then double down on the sprays #we gotta have an alternative ready and honestly maybe I’m not looking in the right places but I genuinely don’t know of any #like one online friend told me leaving brush piles around the yard decreased the amount of bugs trying to come in but like #thats one person. anecdotal. and I haven’t seen anything online confirming that as a thing (yet)#idk man I’m going to bed.#might delete later #house pest saga

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nubs-mbee · 4 months

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I hope the podcast will soon answer these big questions

#it’s Alice and Sam btw #i don’t have a mental image of them yet #so I went really basic!#so far I see Alice as tall and maybe more broad? heavyset?#and possibly with rosacea on her cheeks!#and Sam is… idk #at first I was like ok this man is chubby #but then they said his arms were noodley #so now idk #i just know he’s not scrawny!#doodle #tmagp spoilers #tmagp

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milkbreadtoast · 1 month

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idk how i want to draw him yet and not ready to make a srs attempt but here's a bad kdj phone doodle lol🚶🏻

#orv #kim dokja #omniscient reader's viewpoint #my art #oh yeah i didnt have ref for this fkdnfn was going off memory of the last (first) time i drew him #i cant do a serious attempt tho bc i havent read the novel so i dont have a clear image of him in my head yet...#(dont want to just copy the webtoon design hastily... if it matches my image thats fine but... idk yet)#my main opinion on the webtoon design is he's too hot/ikemen tho KFJDKDJ (this is what i thought since the beginning)#its like BONES mp100 anime reigen.... kdj is like manga reigen to me /j #but who knows maybe if i catch kdj brainrot i too will start drawing him like a kpop idol out of affection...🤷🏻‍♂️#like the webtoon artist prob draws kdj pretty bc they love him sm #just like how i draw jys pretty bc of my brainrot...#so who knows maybe that will happen to me too🤷🏻‍♂️ time will tell #my main opinion on webtoon yjh (no one asked): CUTE BUT WHERES THE T1TTY BEL- *voice muffled as i get dragged away*#(copied most of these tags from twit too lazy to retype the commentary)#EDIT: i call him reigen jokingly bc theyre abt the same age but #kdj is also mob core to me....#in that theyre both protags that dont look flashy and look more like extras/'mob charas'#yet r irrevocably unequivocably the protags of their respective stories #(just as everyone is the protag of your own life! sieze ur narrative! etcetc🖤)#also. both black haired bowlcut havers KJDJS #kdj is reigen coded (derogatory) and mob coded (POS)#hes also a 'con man like reigen..... yep hes def still reigen coded

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anarchopuppy · 1 year

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I. think I might try on they/them for a bit. and see how it feels

#idk if i know what i wanna be yet but i don't think i wanna be a man #feelings are complicated rn and i might change my mind #idk #i still wanna be pops though

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emdeerm · 6 months

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Past saves Present

Og fic ig

In some cultures, it is believed that children are able to remember bits of their past lives till the ages of 3-5.

For Danny, the opposite was true. He got his memories at exactly the second he turned 5.

And he had to promptly dodge the blade of the boy in front of him.

His brother, his mind supplied. His twin.

Danny stopped swinging his own sword, focusing on dodging and avoiding the fate of being a slashed pillow. His new/earned skills especially helped with that greatly as his head was seriously trying to re-kill him.

"I yield," he rasped as he jumped away from his brother and looked at their Mother. "My head hurts, Mother," he added pitifully.

His twin looked slightly concerned for a second, before schooling his face in a way Grandfather has been teaching them.

"Tch." But he did put away the blade before their Mother, said a word.

"Dynial, Damian, you are not to stop until you have received permission in the future."

The boys nodded. Mother took their hands and led them out of the private training ground back to their rooms.

Danny spent the rest of the day lying down, slightly feverish and miserable as his brain was processing and acclimating the new set of memories. Clockwork said it wouldn't be too bad. We'll, the clock bustard has been wrong. It fucking sucked.

His brother was hovering. Their Mother was always around, not letting anyone into their space. Ra's is being kept in the dark.

A peaceful rest was all he needed for his brain to finish sorting out new information. And Danny was stuck in a bit of a dilemma.

You see, Damian and Dynial love their Mother, strive to be the best Demon Twins, and see nothing wrong with their life so far.

Their hands are still clean.

Danny, on the other hand, has many MANY choice words for his current situation and one Clock Ghost.

You want to try reincarnation ONE time! No wonder others don't really do that.

-------

Their days continued like they did before he got his memory back. It wasn't hard to be Dynial when he actually was him.

The nights were filled with planning. And a personally assigned mission: get Damian to be interested in normal things.

Stars weren't much of a hit. Uncultured child.

Animals were a little intriguing.

Simple art and craft projects seemed to hit the spot.

Keeping their little meetings and activities hidden wasn't as hard as one would think. Mother still had her missions. The two of them were often left alone in their wing of the place, the supervisors being allowed only till the doors. Ra's was the Head. He didn't check in on them all the time. The two of them weren't slacking in their training either and were considered prodigies.

Danny wanted out of this Cult.

A many months after feeding different information, facts, crafts and so on to his brother, Damian was curious. He was suspicious about the sudden knowledge but he was also 5. He only had to reference the Lazarus Pit (unfiltered and dirty ectoplasm? Seriously? Clockwork, you can't expect him to work on his vocation) once to convince the child.

They snooped around and found out that they had a father out in the world.

Danny got a plan.

It was super stupid. And dangerous as hell. As well as literally (half)suicidal. But he felt it in his chest and knew he'd succeed.

His Core was here. But it was sleeping. And if he wanted to be safe and away from here, he needed to start it up again.

The big pool of Ecto would do just fine. His Core would filter out the impurities.

He didn't want to stay here until his hands no longer protected. He didn't want such life for his brother either.

---

Damian infiltrated the Lazarus Room just in time to see his brother jump into the Pit.

He ran to the edge.

He was sinking.

The green was too bright. The smell around them was too much. His ears rang.

He reached towards the water, eyes unseeing and hands numb. His heartbeat was too loud.

His brother's wasn't loud enough.

"Don't touch the puddles, Dami, you'll get sick," a gentle, cold hand stopped him from diving.

The child looked up. His brother was floating above the water. He looked all wrong. But he was there.

"I didn't want you to see this part..." his brother laughed awkwardly as he landed next to him. A bright ring of light blinded Damian for a second.

And his brother was back.

-----

Getting used to his powers again felt nice but tedious. Soothing his twin was heartbreaking. He didn't think this through hard enough.

Their Mother was none the wiser to the fact that one of her children died and came back. Nore was she privy to the escape being planned by both.

On one moonless night, when Mother wasn't there, the shift was changing and the world was asleep; two boys phased through the walls and flew. Small bags of stuff were strapped onto them as they traveled to their father.

Mother's notes called him Bruce Wayne, Batman, Beloved and Detective.

It wasn't hard to find him when they arrived.

Though, Danny didn't expect a furless furry and a pantless child to be their new family.

Can he ever get a normal Family???

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months

Text

Drunken Stupor

A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!

OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble

TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior,

Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor.

How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself.

You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades.

You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?

Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month.

Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle.

“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”

Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.

“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”

You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though.

“You still gotts’a hold on me…”

The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified.

“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped.

“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?”

He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”

Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly.

“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile.

“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke.

You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar.

But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.

“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..”

The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face.

“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”

You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo.

“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...”

He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts.

“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.”

The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible.

The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?

“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”

He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck.

“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..”

“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”

“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”

“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move.

“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.

“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”

He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together.

“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..”

You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you.

He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress.

“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.”

“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity.

“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..”

You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside.

But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth.

Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you.

One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair.

“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?”

With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session.

“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.”

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