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thecuriousquest · 2 months

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could i request k3 from the prompt list with platonic nanami kento? thank you!

Home Sweet Home

Yandere Uncle!Nanami x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, face slapping, murderous undertones, isolation punishment

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now.”

Requests are temporarily closed.

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You thought Nanami was just supposed to look after you for a couple of days. You thought it was just going to be until your parents come home from their trip. Uncle Kento, well, is now telling you that your parents got into a very bad accident. He’s telling you that they’re not coming home, and that you’ll be living with him from now on.

Horrified by this information, you begin to cry into his shoulder. He holds you, gently, firmly, just like his personality. He holds you the way you need to be held right now with an arm across your back and one hand on the back of your neck to keep you close to him. You sniffle and cry into his blue button up shirt, but he doesn’t mind the water works.

It’s understandable after all. He lost his brother and sister-in-law after all. It was a “tragic car accident” after all. He knows you’ll just need time to heal and adjust.

But as that time continues on and you’re not healing or adjusting, Uncle Kento feels the need to keep a closer eye on you. He feels the need to watch over you more than he was in the beginning.

Soon, it becomes a battle of wills. His firmness against your stubborn nature. Who will break first? It certainly won’t be you. You’re moody and growing, you’re sad about the death of your parents, depressed even. You can’t get a break from your loving uncle.

There’s a day, at dinner, he looks over at you with those goofy glasses on his face. “I know you’ve been missing your parents, so I want to ask how you’d feel about calling me ‘Dad’?”

You look at him with a frown, eyebrows raised slightly and cinched together, E/C orbs narrowed straight at his sharp features. “What?”

He sets down his chopsticks. “I think you should start calling me that. You lack a parental figure in your life, and I can’t fulfill the role as just your uncle.”

“Are you serious? You think you can just replace my dad? He was your brother! How can you say something so fucked up like that?”

Kento can now see you’re starting to become very emotional over this. He sighs, needing you to know this isn’t coming from a place of malice…just slight jealousy. “Young lady, don’t curse at me like that. This isn’t me trying to replace your father. This is me trying to give you what you need.”

You smack your hand down on the table. “I don’t need you, and I don’t need this either!” You stand up, grab your jacket from the closet, and head towards the door while trying to wrangle the coat on.

You hear the footsteps behind you growing closer and closer before you feel a hand close around your upper arm.

“What, Uncle Kento?” Frustration seeps into your words, tangling around them like wire.

“You’re not leaving. You haven’t even finished your dinner.*

“Fuck dinner! I’m not going to let you try and replace my dead father. You’re crazy! Insane!”

“Stop. Stop acting so irrational.”

You point your finger at his chest. “The only one being irrational here is you, jackass.”

You hear it before you feel it: the tidal wave that is the back of his hand. Skin and knuckles slamming into your cheek. His large paw makes the entire right side of your face feel swollen. You feel dizzy, brains rattled and sloshing around in your skull as you reach out to something for balance.

When all is clear and your eyes meet the stern gaze of Kento Nanami, you bite your quivering lip and stifle all emotions.

“Your crass language won’t be tolerated. Is that understood.”

You feel your jaw, your stinging cheek, even your temple as you glare directly up at him. “All I understand is that it seems like you’re not all that upset about your brother’s death.”

Grabbing you by the ear, Nanami drags you towards your room, but once he gets there, he doesn’t just stop. No, he continues over to your closet before shoving you into the dark space and locking it from the outside. He loves you. He needs to do this for you to respect him. He needs you to learn to call him “Dad” because he knows that this is what’s best for you. Soon enough, you’ll start to see things his way.

Banging on the door, you scream for him to let you out. All he does is shake his blonde head as he walks towards the exit of your room.

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now,” are his last words before shutting your door.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere x darling #yandere themes #jjk #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #platonic yandere #platonic yandere uncle #kento nanami #nanami kento #yandere nanami #platonic yandere nanami #uncle nanami

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

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adhd-merlin · 9 months

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something to think about

#they both need help.#gwencelot #merthur #(if you like)#not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing #(< insane)#merlin #parallels and themes

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ingravinoveritas · 4 months

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If at this point you still think Michael and David would somehow be uncomfortable with people shipping them after they've just created their own actual couple-themed Christmas card, I don't even know what to tell you...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #never beating the allegations #i mean what can i possibly say #i'm sorry but if this was a man and a woman there is no earthly way their relationship would be described as 'platonic'#also you don't typically call someone your lover if you don't want people to think that person is your lover #and you don't take couple-themed Christmas photos with them either #truth disguised as a joke #at this point the subtext might as well be a billboard #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse

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jimekas · 2 months

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Fransweek 2024 - Days 3-4: Shopping and Lazy

I wanted to make something more clean, like I had the picture in my head, but it was a little too much out of my skill range (like I never drew stores or shopping carts before), especially if I wanted to do it quickly.

So here have this more sketchy and comic-like drawing ^^

Frisk and Sans are lazily going around the store, Sans in the cart, Frisk running with it, while Papyrus lost himself at soup (again ;D ).

(Their relation can be platonic, romantic or maybe even queerplatonic, as you prefer)

@fransweek

#fransweek 2024 #fransweek #frans #platonic frans #romantic frans #queerplatonic frans #frisk #sans #papyrus #I just had to #it was all I could think about with the “shopping” theme #the soup sketch #digital art #undertale #6souls #fanart #undertale fanart #my art

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canisalbus · 1 month

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In both versions of them (canon and modern au), what would be Machete and Vasco's ideal date?

I think both of them prefer mostly quiet and chill experiences that don't involve a lot of loud and hectic crowds. They'd probably enjoy going to the movies, or theatre if they're feeling extra fancy. They like museums, galleries, antique markets and book fairs, and do a little bit of casual entry level hiking every now and then. Restaurants, bistros and cafes are a mixed bag, because on one hand eating out is such a classic low-stakes bonding activity, but Machete is a notoriously picky eater and doesn't like surprises when it comes to food.

#in original setting they have to be very careful about going out together #you're allowed to have friends and it's not that remarkable if they're seen together sometimes since they're coworkers and all #but it has to look stately and platonic #answered #anonymous #modern au #you won't see them in an escape room or theme park or doing a lot of urbexing #I guess you could call them boring adults with boring adult pastimes and they like it that way

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goodday-goodmorn · 9 months

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Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

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Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

#reader insert #fanfic of a fanfic #fiction #bruce wayne #platonic yandere #Dad Bruce wayne #i can’t believe i’m posting this #this is very self indulgent #inspiration #Wrote this after reading some of Blugh’s stuff late one night #fanfic #Erm- Blugh if ur seeing this hi?#platonic yandere batfam #Darker undertones #(?) kinda #dark themes #not super tho

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bugsbenefit · 2 months

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genuinely still baffled by the "they don't need to address Mike's sexuality, all that matters is that he's in love with Will" crowd. especially when people say it who claim to care about Mike's character (when you could also just say you don't really care for that part of the show, which would be fine, no one cares about all characters/arcs)

because Surely you realize how him being gay or bi would change his entire character, right. whether he's attracted to girls or not would change the way all his actions up until now are to be interpreted. not even making a statement on his sexuality here, this is generally speaking

if he was actually attracted to El you'd have to address when and why he suddenly stopped loving El since in fiction "it just happened" isn't usually a satisfying answer to breaking a multi season couple up. Why is Will it for him? he's been acting weird for ages so when did he realize? and what made it click he fell out of love with El for good? you'd have to give some explanation for why he was able to proclaim his love for El accidentally in s3 and then fail to do it in the same season while looking uncomfortable with kissing her and so on since his pov was so majorly withheld

if he's not attracted to girls his arc in s5 needs to focus more on comphet and how dating El affected him/why he felt he couldn't break up with her/homophobic attitude in his surrounding slash Hawkins. or the idea of platonic and romantic love in general. there would be no how he got from point A(El) to point B(Will), like what the focus of a bi!Mike s5 arc would have to be on to explain what happened, but a focus on how he ended up at point A in the first place and why he was stuck there/how it affected him

and even core moments of the series would have entirely different meanings depending on if he's attracted to girls. "it's not my fault you don't like girls" being a peak example. if he's gay it's easy to explain it with projection. if he IS attracted to girls though it would read as a much more intentional (even if blurted out) act of homophobia, since it would be him pointing something out that Will genuinely does (not liking being around girls) but he himself can't relate to

and that's all just the surface level differences. Mike being attracted to girls or not being attracted to girls would give his arc an entirely different focus in s5. AS WELL as make his past actions have entirely different meanings. the idea that "it doesn't matter for his character" is so insanely wrong it's wild how many people confidently peddle it

#Mike being gay is the better writing choice imo in case some people don't know my opinion on it and the post isn't really about it #because making him bi would contradict major parts of what they already wrote and the coding they gave his character #would also be more conclusive with other themes the show already has like platonic vs romantic love #good example of a character where it's the exact opposite is Richie Tozier from the original It book btw #specifically when people try to make him gay in adaptations/fanworks which always derails his character and requires massive #changes to the way he's interpreted and things to be ignored/written out #because he was specifically BI coded in the book and not gay coded #so any gay interpretations take away from his character massively

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museqmeg · 2 months

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A little (a very long) Vash & Meryl Trigun Stampede thought:

Let's talk about these two and how they view humanity and plantness. ("Plantness" is the plant equivalent of "humanity," right?)

Vash's plant reveal to the gang is meant to be shocking, but there's more to this moment than meets the eye. If you're a new member of the Trigun audience, Meryl is your avatar into the world of No Man's Land and who/what Vash is... but she is also so much more.

Meryl is a reflection of Vash's own humanity. Meryl is one living, breathing human who embodies all that he wants to protect. She is what Rem sacrificed her life for, but also selfishly in the best way, for himself - Vash truly loves humanity. Meryl is the humanity Vash aspires to be. Vash and Meryl are mirrors.

One of my favorite ways that Vash and Meryl demonstrate their mirror imagery, is through their views and treatment of plants. They both show so much care, compassion, and consideration for a being that is seen as less and to serve humanity. Offering these rights to another living creature puts plants and humans on equal ground. Coexisting.

Orange did a wonderful job of parallel imagery to highlight this. Let's take a look, shall we?

Help

They ask a plant for help. Only when things are truly dire do they request the assistance of a plant. For Vash, it's his sister on the sand steamer. For Meryl, it's Vash in JuLai.

Something very small, but very important to me... In the English dub, they both say "please" when asking for help. It's clearly a choice given to each plant (sister or Vash), but their agency is kept.

(This particular parallel imagery makes me perish. Well done Orange.)

Choice

When both Vash and Meryl ask, both are willingly and freely answered.

Connection

When we see Vash connect with his sister, it's mysterious and otherworldly. However, when we see Meryl connect with Vash, it's so human and heartbreaking. The tension we feel as she desperately calls for him while he reaches out with his violet geraniums makes us feel the stark difference between plants and humans. The connection isn't so easy between the two species.

Poor tiny, human Meryl is trying so hard here. She's literally up against an interdimensional being while giving everything she has. But it's her voice. Her humanity. It calls out to Vash's own. It's the connection that comes easy.

"Follow your heart."

In this moment, humanity/Rem/Meryl is Vash's heart.

And Vash is Meryl's heart.

Two human hearts.

Dare I say it was actually Roberto who saved Vash and humanity? Roberto knew. He knew that Vash and Meryl were two sides of the same coin. Roberto had them pegged. His gentle nudge was the courage Meryl needed to act on her heart, creating a domino effect for Vash's courage.

Humanity

It was always inside him. Vash is human. He is so very lucky to have two very strong tethers: Rem & Meryl.

I very much interpret this moment as a handoff of Vash from Rem to Meryl. His anchors pulling him out of his brother's gate and plant state. Letting him be his true self.

Agency

Compassion. Respect. Love. They're integral to one's self-worth. Meryl giving all of that to Vash and seeing him as her equal, as human... gave him back his own identity and autonomy.

Heart

Two hearts.

Maybe all it took for a human and plant to connect and coexist was just a little heart. A little love & peace, if you will.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #adding the ship tags - take this as platonic or romantic #vashmeryl #vash X meryl #I have been sitting with the thought for A WHILE #beautifully done Studio Orange #it's such a strong theme for them in Trigun Maximum and it was executed beautifully in Trigun Stampede #Wolfwood & Vash are a whole other can of wams with a different take on this same thought and equally important

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thecuriousquest · 5 months

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Don’t Close Your Eyes

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug @murderofravens

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, hurt/comfort, vomiting, painful migraines, Gojo is kind of a bad dad, Gojo obsesses over his daughter’s beauty

Summary: Your father, Satoru Gojo, gives you everything you want. What will happen when something you want breaks one of his very few rules? (Featuring Uncle Nanami)

Master List

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You love your father with all of your heart, but it’s really hard to be his daughter sometimes. He spoils you rotten. You want ice cream or mochi for breakfast? Cookies for dinner? You got it. The most expensive sushi for lunch? Say no more. You want that really expensive necklace and designer outfit? Done.

He wraps you up in the thickest of blankets and carries you through life. If he had things his way, he’d make sure you didn’t even have to put a toe on the ground. You’ve never been confronted with any real world issues thanks to your doting pops, but you feel as though you’re living inside of a shell.

However, having inherited the Six Eyes from him, you suffer not only from an overprotective father, you also suffer from violent migraines due to oversensitivity and overstimulation of the senses. You’re extremely light sensitive. Even the dullest fraction of light can trigger a headache.

This being said, your daddy doesn’t allow you to cover your eyes…ever. He says, “They’re too beautiful to cover up” or “Why would you even think about hiding something I gave you?” You can’t even convince him to buy you those really dark sunglasses where no light can pass through.

You often find yourself trying to cut up towels for makeshift blindfolds just so you can get some sleep, but you’re only lightly scolded by your father and told not to “play with scissors” despite being fourteen years old.

———

Satoru comes home from a mission, greeting Nanami as he asked the blonde sorcerer to keep an eye on you while he was gone.

“How was she? Who am I kidding? She was perfect, wasn’t she?”

“No, she was not. She was crass and rude because she was in pain the entire time. She cursed me out more times than I care to tell, and she barely ate, and what she did eat, she threw up. Gojo, you have to do something about her migraines because whenever I come over to watch her, I end up getting them as well.”

The lanky man’s jaw hangs wide open as he listens to Nanami’s speech. After a minute of processing, he drops the bag of souvenirs on a nearby table and huffs a fatherly sigh.

“Are you sure it’s her? I mean, you could just be incapable of looking after her.”

“It’s not her, Gojo. It’s you,” Nanami states as he picks up his bag. “I’m leaving now. She’s upstairs in her room crying her eyes out because you refuse to do anything about her oversensitivity.”

With that said, Kento brushes past Satoru and leaves the Gojo household.

Satoru trails up the stairs, bag in hand, and knocks on the door twice. When he receives no response, only hearing you choking on sobs, he opens the door to see you shaking under the covers. He strides over to you, pulling the blanket back so that he can see you holding your head with your eyes squeezed shut. Placing the bag on the floor, your dad takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, there’s my pretty girl. Uncle Nanami told me you were having a bad day. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Hurts!” Is all you can bite out with the amount of pain you’re in. You curse yourself for even speaking because your skull is pounding from all of the noise. “Please, Daddy, make it stop!”

He shushes you, pulling you up towards his chest so that you can cry into his shoulder.

“We could try a sedative?”

“Those don’t fucking work! You can’t do anything right! God, you’re fucking useless!” You grip his shirt and blow tears and snot into it as you wail at him in a fit of pain and teenage rage.

Gojo, being used to the cursing, only rolls his eyes. He can’t scold you right now. It wouldn’t help anyway. You wouldn’t even be able to focus on a lecture at the moment. Instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss against your hair.

“Daddy, please…covering my eyes…it’s the only thing that works.” You flinch when the migraine feels like a brick has been smashed against the back of your head.

“You know the rules. I want to be able to see your gorgeous face every day. You’re my sunshine, sweetie. Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“Fuck you! Uncle Nanami lets me cover my eyes!”

“Well, then, Uncle Nanami isn’t going to be able to watch you anymore.”

You shake your head slightly, desperately. “I…No, you can’t do that. Daddy, please, I want to see Uncle Nanami!”

Gojo lowers his glasses and looks at you. “I’m your father, so I can do whatever I want. These headaches are just a phase. You’ll grow out of them. You don’t need to cover your eyes. I never wore them as a child. You didn’t have these migraines as a little kid, so you’ll probably get over them at some point. You just need to-”

The storm in your head causes violent waves to crash against your skull, rattling the ship that is your brain. Blood rages in your ears, and you can only hear your father’s voice in a low hum before succumbing to nausea for the fourth time today.

Throwing your blanket off of you and reaching for the trashcan that’s right by your bed, you hurl into the black plastic bin that’s almost half full of your bile and stomach contents. Gojo looks into it and can clearly see that Nanami had made you fish for dinner.

Your father does his best to try and comfort you, rubbing your back as you vomit water and whatever else your stomach can wretch. Coughing signals an end to your regurgitation, and you put the trash bin down on the floor in front of you.

Calmly now, with no heat or bite behind your words, you look away from your father and ask, “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

You hate to ask him for this after being so angry with him, but a comforting presence next to you can sometimes help with your migraine induced insomnia. It can sometimes even dull the headaches to a certain extent.

“Of course. Anything for my little girl.”

Lying down, you rub your temples as Satoru trails the tips of his fingernails up and down your back. Being emotionally drained and physically exhausted, as well as having your father sit right beside you, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

As Gojo watches his precious angel close her eyes, he runs his fingers through your hair and smiles. You’re finally asleep and looking peaceful. If you had eye coverings on, he wouldn’t be able to see the whites of your lashes curving as you enter a dream.

He knows in his heart that he’s doing the right thing.

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