strongroots | [meme, psls, etc]

[meme, psls, etc]

out of game psls, threads, etc.

"It's alright," Robby reassures the sheepish point. He's got the bowl for the man, though it is awkward to hold up to catch his blood inside it. Which do manage to plop into the mix when they land as each drop hardens--at least the contents is more paste-like than watery, and they stay inside at the introduction of the coldblood.

Robby brings the bowl then in front of himself, holds out his hand to take the clippers next. Probably a little...icy, and if Daniel doesn't, Robby will take the sleeve of his overshirt to wipe them off (...the concern should be the blood, but it still counts if the blood is ice, too, right). The blade is no less cold against his skin once he rolls up the sleeve proper, exposing the area just above his wrist to dig in and puncture a hole, hovering his arm just above the mixture. More blood comes out, easier than for Mister LaRusso, with the smell of tar drifting up as the rusted-gold blood drips down. Robby feels the sting, but ignores it until he's sure that there's enough for the mix, before dropping the clippers and putting his hand over the small wound.

Briefly, for a few seconds, before he picks up the mortar and starts to crush, and mixing everything into--and there's a shimmering to the contents as they start to come together, becoming more sludge-like.

...but a little better smelling than actual sludge, fortunately.

"I got the familial bond with Mob," he admits--awkwardly, but only some. "It was, uh, because of his powers, in case he ever changed into a beast. You tell what the other's feeling. The friend bond doesn't do that."

He's not sure if Mister LaRusso knows the differences, talks as they come closer to the decision of what to do. The nerves starting to creep in, apprehension for what's about to occur.

But it feels silly, the position he's put himself in; but Robby goes along with it anyway, a small huff of a chuckle before he asks, "--You want the familial one?"

...yes, by the look on his face--and considering their entire conversation today--he knows how dorky and dumb this question is. Future dad.

Daniel will definitely let Robby work on the paste first - knowing that the other probably shouldn't wait for too long to mix it all together, especially given the odd qualities of Daniel's own blood outside of his body, not to mention that maybe Robby's blood could get weird when it's out there for too long as well for all they know..

But when there's even a slight pause in the mixing, the man will reach out towards Robby, a hand gently grabbing a hold of the arm where the boy punctured his skin earlier.

He knows it's just a small wound. It's not even really bleeding, but.. well, would Daniel truly be Daniel if he didn't fuss over the little things, even when there's no need to?

It means that his other hand gently comes to rest on top of the slight wound, remaining there for a moment, and leaving a thin layer of ice that sits over the wound when Daniel lifts his hand again, listening to Robby speak all the while.

"Of course I do," he says, making sure to keep his voice gentle - if not just because he doesn't want to give Robby the impression that he's making fun of the boy for asking such an obvious question.

There's no way Daniel is going back on this one now, after all. Robby is his son, so a familial bond only makes sense.

"I.." He pauses.

There's a moment of thought here - and a decision made. His smile a little more awkward as he adds: "I really don't like the platonic friendship bonds, anyway."

There's an implication in those words, though without context, it's impossible for the boy to guess the exact meaning behind them. But that's exactly why Daniel said them this way. It means that if Robby wants to know, he can ask, and this time Daniel will actually tell him, rather than keeping it all to himself. (Openness - he remembers how much Robby values it, how much things behind hid from him bothered him, though this certainly isn't anywhere on the scale of Johnny only later telling Robby about his death.)

And if he doesn't want to know, they can skip over it. It's not like Daniel is going to mind not talking about one of his most actively traumatizing moments in Trench, after all. Putting the choice in Robby's hands is his way of showing active trust and faith in his son.

"But a familial bond with you sounds perfect."

Robby does stop in his action when Mister LaRusso reaches out his hand to touch him; eyes flickering to look him in the face, but he doesn't speak, but watches to see what he's doing, or seems to want to do.

A momentary interruption, and Robby's lips tug in acknowledgement for what's left behind, but doesn't remark on it. Returning to the work and his questions, and then waiting on the man's answer. Obvious, and yet--Robby doesn't mean the awkward addition. The comment on something that seems meaningless, with the way that his future (current? present? --you know what he means) dad goes on about the familial bond.

He might move on from it, not paying attention. But with the mixture coming together, and with his own memory not up to stuff, he does ask, "--What does the friendship bond do again? I remember the hostile bond..."

Mainly because he spoke to Ruby about that one, but the platonic effects is lost on him, beyond that it doesn't offer the stronger corruption help. Which is why he and Mob hadn't gone for it.

And the hostile one was always off the table.

"It makes you feel the pain the other person is experiencing," Daniel starts, momentarily pauses, and then adds: ".. and the pleasure."

He doesn't like talking about even just this. Even that description is already so soaked with the man who forced it on him - probably fully knowing what he was doing by choosing that specific bond, when a hostile one would have been far easier for Daniel to endure.

But he knows he could just leave it there. Robby's lack of knowledge of the situation makes it easy to back off here, to just cover it up as Daniel not wanting to accidentally cause Robby pain. It wouldn't even take effort to not say it.

.. but he has to, he thinks.

This is his chance to be open with a boy he sees as a son. If he backs out now, it'd practically be the same as lying to Robby. So..

"But, Robby, there's-- there's something I need to tell you. I.. had one of those for a while." Daniel speaks so slowly. It's like every single word leaving the man's throat is like torture, judging by how hard it seems for him to say all of them.

But he pushes himself further, going on, even though his very expression is pained at this point.

"But not because I wanted to."

The explanation should be simple, and exchange of information, and yet the way that Mister LaRusso says it pauses Robby; his hand around the pestle starting its stirring. His eyes on him in an unassuming way, but curious. The way the mood about the man shifts before he even makes his decision.

And when he does, builds up to a further explanation without reaching the ending point, Robby knows. 'I had one of those for a while'; But not because I wanted to.'

Because of what they sat and already spoke about, what Mister LaRusso shared out on the docks about what he went through at his age. Everything always coming back to that man. The one who had come and then slithered off back into the ocean. And yet--

"...Silver," Robby deduces, his throat dry when he says the word. The name. The culprit.

--And yet he never leaves Mister LaRusso. He's always there.

There's no instant answer.

Just that fact alone should tell Robby he's right. Daniel would've denied it if it had been anyone or anything else, after all - but the man doesn't. He just remains quiet for a few moments, not directly looking at Robby either.

Then he moves. Still not talking, but his fingers move to pry at the upper most buttons of his shirt, opening them, giving his shirt just enough leeway for Daniel to be able to pull his collar off to the side enough to give Robby a glimpse at something. Right around Daniel's shoulder area, there's a contrast in colours on the tan skin. There's a spot that's a sickly green - like Vileblood - though it seems to have faded a little bit.

But even without the full mark visible, it's so clear what it is. A big palm resting on Daniel's shoulder, long fingers splayed out across his skin. A large handprint.

He releases his hold on the collar, mostly obscuring the mark again.

"He lured me somewhere. And then he--"

Sprung this on him, took his blood, held him down, marked him, all things Daniel can't say, couldn't say even if he tried, even now he's telling the truth.

"--did this."

(Safer.)

He breathes out, glancing back up at Robby, meeting the other's gaze with a mix of shame and guilt as his hands try to clumsily button his shirt back up.

".. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Robby. It happened while you were off to that other city, and I just.." - ashamed, blaming himself, disgusted with his own body and the way it no longer felt like just his own - ".. I couldn't."

He couldn't talk about it. Not with anyone. This is the first time he's even giving this entire thing some words, rather than letting it stew inside of his own mind.

It's the first time Robby's wanted to do something violent to a specific person in a while.

There's been the desire; or more a need, a want to lash out and hurt, to inflict it on others and himself. He's been keeping it in, knowing it's irrational, that it's not who he is; and it's been getting better in the last week with his recovery. With feeling more like himself. With being loved, knowing that he's not a monster. This happens to people here.

They make mistakes. It's not what defines them.

(The next part is always hard, but he hasn't needed to be alone.)

His fingers scrape against the bowl, fortunately a metal texture for the way the pads turn white, for the sound his nails make before they click off from the surface. Robby doesn't look at what he's doing. Staring off in some spot under Mister LaRusso's head once he's finished speaking, his own lips pursing, tightening.

He did it when Robby wasn't even there. When he couldn't have been there, when Mister LaRusso hadn't even liked him going in the first place. Lured him. Did this to him over and over, his entire life. It's all their story is--a tale of violation, over and over.

Robby keeps the words he wants to say trapped, but he can't; he digs into the metal of the bowl, and looks at Mister LaRusso with an expression as anguished as it is furious. A voice low.

"...if he touches you again, I'll kill him. I don't care. If he shows his face--"

He cuts himself off, mouth shutting tight again, but there's nothing vague about what he would have said, repeated again. I'll go for him.

But there's more than fury behind it. There's a pain to it, even when he doesn't speak, an apology in his eyes that his mouth can't give. He wants justice for Mister LaRusso, the man he's about to make a bond with--the man he's loved in more ways than one.

How can he want anything else than to hurt his abuser?

Daniel isn't sure what kind of reaction he expects. This isn't the sort of thing he talks about, after all, so he has no way to gauge how anyone would actually react to this information. Sure, there was Johnny, but-- he can hardly say Johnny has a normal human reaction to anything. Dismissing the entire deal sounded like what the guy would do. And Robby has been perfectly kind about this whole thing. Back when he first told Robby about what happened between him and Silver in general, when he and Robby were still on slightly shakey ground. Back earlier today, when Daniel confessed about it a little more intimately. He has no reason to think Robby might react unkindly, and yet Daniel fusses all the same, worries the moment the words have left his mouth, the shame and guilt about it all just a little bit too strong.

But there's no negative reaction from Robby. Not towards Daniel, anyway. But it's not the positive kindness from before either. Instead it's--

It's a third, unexpected thing, and Daniel finally does look over at Robby, even if it's just to do so in surprise, his eyes a little wider. There's something in his heart, a feeling Daniel can't quite place, doesn't have time to think about, at the idea of someone willing to defend him, to keep him from harm.

There's indeed no time though. Not when Robby is expressing this sort of sentiment so intensely. Daniel figures it's a mixture of everything. Of the things Robby has only just gotten over - the violent lashing out - and a natural anger Robby must be feeling right now at hearing about all this. The latter is part of the touching emotion in Daniel's heart, but it's no good when it comes with the former, and the man drops all shame to close the proximity between him and Robby a little again, his hand landing on top of one of the hands that's clutching the bowl, cold skin against warm skin.

"He's not here," Daniel says. The emotion hasn't fully left his voice yet, still a little vulnerable, but he tries to make it sound as reassuring as can be.

It's true, after all. If this awful bond has been good for one thing, it's the fact that it told him without a doubt that Terry Silver is gone.

"We are. That's the bond I want to focus on."

So he can finally have one he's proud of, rather than one that symbolizes nothing but shame.

It's difficult. Mister LaRusso touches his skin, and Robby knows he's there, but his thoughts can't tear away from what he's been told. From his own reaction, the hate that it's ignited in his heart. He wants to hurt that man, his eyes hovering over to where the mark of the bond was, and he wants to do something about that too. His mind rolls back to the detail of how it happened when he was away, and shame finds a place in him again.

He wants to tear Silver apart, and he can't do anything about it. The emotion doesn't calm, even with Mister LaRusso's reassurance, the request to move forward. He can hardly focus on why they're in the dojo in the first place, what they were doing, but Robby mutters a forced "Okay" and sets the bowl between them, scrunching his hands into fists.

At least until he reconsiders that, and takes one of Mister LaRusso's hands into his instead, his hold ever so firm. Quiet, until:

"...we'll get rid of it. What he did. I promise."

Robby doesn't know what it takes or if it's possible (even in his worst days with Mob, he never truly wanted to get rid of theirs--he wanted to do anything else than lose it), but the reality doesn't matter. He promises it now because he has to, if just to pull himself out of his own anger, to continue with what they were doing. Even if it feels like there's a ghost ever present with them now, looming right above them. Right behind them.

(And if only there was, so Robby could be-- could be a monster he doesn't want to be. He didn't want to be this again, did he?)

His hands fidget, and he lets go of Mister LaRusso's, trying to focus on the bowl and not the upset he can feel wanting to reach his eyes. The contents inside the bowl have become a murky grey, a burning smell to the nose between the bloods, ashes and petals. Robby fiddles with the cuff of his right sleeve, pulling it back as he asks in a lowered voice, "Are you ready?"

"Okay."

For how difficult Daniel can be about matters - especially these kinds of matters - the man seems to agree easily with Robby's words while he's still holding Daniel's hands. Sure, the man's answer is a little on the quiet side, but it doesn't sound like it's given away hesitantly.

"Let's look into that later, alright? Together."

If doing that makes Robby feel better, then it's easy for Daniel to go along with it, after all. He may not have tried to get rid of the mark earlier, but.. that's just because of an entire pile of complicated reasons, of not even daring to speak up about it or ask out of pure shame.

A shame that's hard to get over, but one he'll try to get over if it's for Robby. For this boy, the one that's about to officially become his son. After all, to the locals here, these markings are as good as any legal papers would be back home.

But with Robby withdrawing his hands, with the other rolling up that sleeve.. Daniel's tone raises a little bit again out of the quiet, especially as he moves his fingers into the bowl, right into the paste, getting a good amount of the mixture onto his hand. "I'll do it first."

If not just because the poor boy is looking so upset about all of this. A part of Daniel regrets having spoken up, if not just for that.

He wanted this to be something nice for Robby. Something that reminds him that he's got something good going for him - something he won't just lose. A father who's ready to stick around this time.

".. are you ready for it?" Because he doesn't want to touch Robby yet until the other answers that.

(And because, maybe, Daniel is so good at repressing emotions that it feels easy to shove aside all of the Terry thoughts while he's focusing his entire mind instead on Robby instead in this moment - but it's clearly not as easy for the boy himself.)

His heart needs the time, though Robby doesn't know that. As Mister LaRusso takes the bowl, says that he'll go first, Robby rolls up his sleeve to keep it clean when he dips in his palm seems insufficient. So he pauses, and then silently peels off his button shirt instead to free his arms.

Familial bonds go on the limbs, and there's a mark that Mister LaRusso will be able to see on the very upper portion of an arm, what looks like a burn mark, or an odd birthmark for its colouring--the bond he got with Mob that he was always manage to keep hidden under halfway or full-length sleeves, but that he now has no reason to hide away.

He gives his arms a shake, just for what's about to happen, a small uncertainty of what to do with his limbs that's superficial. And then Mister LaRusso asks his question, and Robby takes in a breath. Nods when he exhales, and holds up both his arms so that Mister LaRusso can choose whichever he will.

And his mind comes to some conclusion--or, rather, it remembers why the two of them are here for. Why he wanted this in the first place.

"...whatever happens, I'll talk to you before things get bad, if you talk to me too. I don't want you to suffer this hell alone--and I don't want to be the reason you're suffering in it. We'll protect each other, and try to protect our friends, too. And when we can't--" because they can't always, and the recognition trembles in Robby's voice, "--then we'll be honest. About how it hurts."

He rolls his lips together, presses them between his teeth. "But we won't let the past keep holding us back. We'll be stronger than it."

He looks at his dad--his soon-to-be, his currently, whatever anyone would think father: "...I'll talk to everyone. That I hurt. I won't let myself spiral."

Not again.

He didn't expect the words. Daniel was ready to start being the sappy one here, but it seems that Robby truly has beaten him to the punch - in a way that the man obviously doesn't mind, but still in a way that really surprises him.

After all, there's a reason why the man's eyes go so wide as he listens to Robby. Even as he stares at the boy the entire time while Robby speaks, the surprise in his eyes is obvious, and the emotion remains fairly obvious even as the surprise thaws into different emotions - fondness, for one.

And maybe more than anything.. It's pride. It's what he's seen in Robby all along, his sweet and mature core, unchanging even with all the things he's been through.

It's so touching that Daniel's eyes start to water just a little bit without him fully realising it, still too caught up in the words and just how proud he is of his son in this moment, only realising a moment later when he ducks, blinking away the water before it can turn into tears.

There's so much he wants to say about Robby, to Robby, but he knows there's more important things to say right now.

Especially as he moves his hand onto the skin of Robby's wrist, gently wrapping his fingers around there, pressing the mixture of blood and other ingredients against the boy's skin.

"I'll talk too."

It's a difficult thing to promise, but.. for Robby? Maybe it's a little bit easier.

"I can't promise that I'll just talk to anyone and everyone, but.. I'll do my best to talk to you." He has been trying to do so already, after all. Like all the things he told Robby only just today, things he's never told any other living soul. "And I promise to protect you and to look after you, the way a father should. Even if things may get difficult again at some point, I won't turn away or give up on you."

That feels like the most important thing to promise Robby of all people, he thinks. A kid who has been abandoned so often that he wears the scars of it so openly on his soul.

"I'll help you, and I'll love you." He smiles. It's still touched by Robby's own words, but there's that warm fondness in it too, a warmth that only ever exists in Daniel's smile and never in his cold limbs anymore, ice cold fingers still touching Robby's wrist. "I will always be here for you."

Where would their lives be right now, if they weren't here? Would Mister LaRusso be speaking these things to him--would he be able to, would it be right? There's a life out there where this isn't happening, though it's a life where everything before it hasn't happened, either: the corruption, the pain, the way their lives seemed to continuously try to slip from their fingers. The farm, Mob's accident. Mister LaRusso's broken back.

There's a life where this isn't happening right now, and Robby doesn't want to imagine it. A man who wants to be his father--his eyes on him, the warmth of his smile. Robby listens as the hand slips around his wrist, and a warmth blossoms there, too; after the chill first makes itself known, but then it leaves, as if a father's touch can take away a temperature too much for his son.

The weight of his dad's words makes Robby dip his head, needing a moment for the emotion that rises in his throat. But he looks back at him with a smile expressive, just soaking in the sight of him before--right. Turning to the bowl, and the mixture that he still needs to mark his own palm in.

He dips it in, rubbing the mixture on with his fingers, and then takes a hold of Mister LaRusso's own wrist, threading their limbs.

"I'll be there for you, too, dad. I promise."

It's a promise he intends to do his utmost to keep.

He can feel the change. Sure, it's not the first bond that Daniel has had, but this one is so different in nature that it feels entirely different. It feels like something suddenly opening a door within himself, and letting something else in-- but not unwanted, not this time. Instead it feels soft, and warm, like a second heart beating right next to his own.

Daniel recognizes that they must be Robby's feelings. And that Robby, in turn, must be feeling what he's feeling right now, even if the emotions aren't very different. Both warm, grateful, and just.. loving.

Especially since the bond probably kicks in right in time for Robby to experience the little jump Daniel's own heart makes when Robby calls him dad. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, let alone take it for granted.

He slowly releases his hold on Robby's wrist, feeling some of the paste still sticky on his hand, but also now able to see the mark below on his son's skin.

".. I guess it worked," he says, like it's even necessary. Like they can't both feel as much in this moment, sitting there and smiling.

It's a change--a welcoming, an open door--that Robby's experienced before. Willingly, and while some part of Robby remembers the way it occurred the time before, he couldn't compare his bond with Mob to this moment, even if he wanted to. The way that Mister LaRusso comes in, how he feels him present, in a way that can't be described as being in the same room with another person.

It's not the physical, after all, but the emotional. And feeling that inside him; it makes Robby's smile tight, giddy and shy all at once, as well as his heart. The joyous, excited feeling coming through from Mister LaRusso, and that he doesn't feel like anything other than how he presents himself.

This is Mister LaRusso. This is him.

Robby's looking at his wrist, the marking left by his dad, the way the paste there all fades to leave only the bond. But then he looks up at the older man, still with that happy little smile on his face, a million other emotions stirring in his heart (this is a new chapter for them, isn't it? a new beginning, a new everything), and it breaks with his smile turning into a grin showing teeth, all before Robby lifts on his news and hugs his father around the shoulders, going for something better than all the one-shouldered, one-armed hugs.

"Thank you," he says warmly, with nothing better to say, either. But this appreciation, this feeling--it's all and everything he has right now.

And it's better than he dared to imagine it being, thinking about it in his room. Thinking about it at all.

There's just the tiniest 'oof' at suddenly having to bear a little more of Robby's weight than Daniel anticipated, but it's something he doesn't mind in the slightest, the sound transforming into a happy hum quickly enough after the boy thanks him.

Maybe he underestimated all of this a little bit. The bond meant a lot to him just in theory, which is why he even brought up the idea a little bit before, back when Robby hadn't been ready for it for reasons Daniel himself never could've imagined until Robby himself confessed to it. But even Daniel himself never knew it'd be this much. This many emotions pouring straight into his heart, even as he moves to wrap his arms around the boy in turn - one hand balled up so he isn't getting blood paste all over Robby's shirt -, holding him close, even if that's entirely unnecessary with the way his son already seems to have plastered himself to Daniel's body.

He needs a moment to take it all in - the hug, the feelings - but then he smiles and manages to speak up again.

"Yeah?" It's a soft sound, but audible with how close they are in this moment. "You like it?"

Daniel knows Robby does.

He can feel it, after all.

But maybe it's good for Robby to acknowledge this out loud, he thinks. Not even for Daniel's sake - though it's flattering, it's fulfilling, the idea that he can make a kid so important to him that it's his kid now so happy - but for Robby's own too. So Robby can now truly see that everything is only going to get better from here.

The only way after corruption is up, especially with family right by your side.

Edited 2023-10-03 14:26 (UTC)

"Yeah -- yeah, I do."

It's no rushed response. A response -- verbally -- would take away from Robby's attention on the hug and his focus on the emotions present. It's giddying, in a way that makes his heart beat faster with some alarm as to how to react, but it's a positive too: because what Robby feels is positive as well, a warmth that makes his body melt so easily against Mister LaRusso's.

Mister LaRusso's. His father's.

It wouldn't be difficult to tell, a father can surely know that a kid is just appreciating their dad's company when they don't immediately speak up, but Mister LaRusso gets to enjoy the benefits of the bond seeping in through just how his arms around Robby make him feel. The comfort present, both received and experienced.

"I'll never hurt you again, dad."

A promise he's said surely plenty of times before, but maybe he wants to say it again. Maybe in this moment, all his wants to do is enjoy the possibility of this good feeling persisting, that things can get better.

And that he'll be a stronger person for it--one who can come to his senses before everything gets so dire.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[meme, psls, etc]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject