#MAJOR WOMP

[malacheezyy]

i'm so tired i'm fluctualting beitwene giggle fits and feleing liek i'm abt to cry

[hella1975]

would you like to talk about how bad the mha ending was hella

as much as i would love to give like. a comprehensive response i genuinely dont think i can get my words together just yet without it being a constant unintelligble stream of 'AND ANOTHER THING-' and bc it's become quite torn in the fandom on if the chapter was good or bad i want like. an actual coherent response here. so i will reblog this if/when i can word it but know IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY

[latibvles]

playing pretend.

who up mourning that this is the last prompt. it’s me im up. anyways for Dress Uniform we’re going all the way back to Wendover. It’s December, 1942, and John Egan’s about to find out that he is in fact, a very good actor.

—

The frigid air reminds him vaguely of Manitowoc.

Of course, it would get much colder, snow piling up against the door. He’d help his dad dig out the pathway leading up to the house, the sidewalk, the driveway. And he remembers steam puffing up around their mouths, how he’d take his dad down in the snow to save his sisters from the “dragon” and how powder would cling to his curls. It’s something sobering, warming — he’s not drunk, not enough to have much trouble finding his way.

Wendover isn’t big. There’s base, and there’s the town, and the local bar. On a weekend, they might’ve taken a bus into Salt Lake City, but it’s Thursday, so they all settled for this instead with no practice flight tomorrow. He could take his chances walking back alone, and he doesn’t hate the memories that are choosing to accompany him. He likes the cold, for the most part.

He shoves his hands into the well-worn pockets of his dress uniform, hums under his breath as he takes in the windows with their lights off. If he had a watch, he’d check the time, but he doesn’t. Bucky just knows that it’s late, because he’s never been the kind of guy to call his nights early.

The song they’d been singing in the bar has wormed its way into his thoughts and he’d have to pester Brady for the name of it tomorrow.

He’s halfway between bar songs and shoveled snow when he hears hurried footsteps behind him. He doesn’t have much time to turn around before he’s being swathed by the scent of a peachy perfume, arms hugging one of his and he’s met with slightly frizzy hair, and eyes boring into his own; hazel ones, alight with something indiscernible. He knows her face, because it’s hard to forget something that pretty, but he and Lieutenant Savorre hardly ever spo—

“There you are!” She practically chirps, jovial. If it weren’t for the fact that he can’t smell anything on her breath he’d ask if she was drunk. She’s not though, as she tilts her head up to sear a kiss against his cheek that’s warmer than the whiskey in his blood. Her breath ghosts against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Sorry for the trouble, Captain, but those boys back there have been trailing me for the past block. Could you play along?” Bucky hears it, then. The loud laughter, and as he turns his head he catches glances of the group in his peripheral vision. How they double over one another and stumble, loud and reckless in the quiet. They aren’t Army, not by the way they’re dressed. If Savorre’s scared or nervous, she doesn’t show it. Her lips are pressed into a tight smile as she looks up at him and they keep walking.

Bucky’s never been much of an actor, but he figures he can try.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he leans forward, daring to press a kiss to her hair and Savorre bows her head to let him, like they’ve practiced this before. “Took you long enough.”

“Got caught up with a friend,” Savorre’s reply is breezy as she lifts her head once more. “Missed you like crazy though.” Bucky swallows, harder than he means to, at how easily the words come to her. And if it weren’t for the clamor behind them, he could easily forget that she was just saying it to say it.

“Like crazy, huh?” he counters with a grin of his own. Savorre’s nose scrunches, her eyes narrow.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Can’t help it,” he counters. She huffs, and he chuckles. “C’mere.” Bucky moves his arm from her grip to drape around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and dunking himself further in the scent of her, the warmth of a body pressed against his own. Her hand finds his heart through his jacket, hand curling against fabric.

She’s too good at this.

Savorre keeps looking up at him, laughs at the jokes he comes up with and counters his quick remarks with her own. His thumb presses into her shoulder as he tries to make sense of their predicament. Or rather, the fact that this is the most they’ve really spoken since meeting a couple weeks ago. And he can’t help but be mildly surprised at how easy she makes this all look: she laughs and lightly pats at his chest and bats her eyelashes like she really is his “sweetheart.” It’s impressive. It’s off putting.

He glances behind them momentarily as he leans down as if his plan is to whisper something salacious in her ear.

“Bank left,” he mutters, and Savorre giggles and gasps out a “Sir!” that sells as he veers down a sidestreet with her in tow. They move a few feet behind and Bucky looks behind them to watch the group of boys stumble past, paying them no mind.

Savorre untangles herself from him with a soft sigh, straightening out her jacket and he watches for a moment. His well of words has run dry and all he can really do is stare as she rights herself; straightening her tucked in tie and rumpled collar, before her gaze drags up the length of him to settle on his face.

“Sorry for the trouble, sir. I hope I’m not uh– in trouble for that.” Bucky balks at her.

“What? No. I’m not—” he pauses, before waving his hand dismissively. “Stays between us. That happen often?” Savorre looks a little caught off by his question, before she presses her lips into a line.

“Sometimes, in Texas.” She shrugs, looking at the main street. “Usually we… travel like a pack but my partner had to make sure our Radio Op got back safe and I was handling something with the bar owner.” She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He doesn’t miss it — the way she keeps the details vague and he isn’t going to press her for them. But he does smile a little bit.

“Your partner, that’s—”

“Neumann, yeah. Tiny one, black hair,” Savorre demonstrates by holding her hand near her mouth and Bucky can form the image pretty quickly. It was hard not to stare at them.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of me,” Bucky admits and Savorre chuckles at that. He’s pretty sure this is a real laugh of hers, and she shakes her head a little bit.

“Everyone thinks that. It’s just her face. Promise she hasn’t said anything bad, sir.”

“So you girls talk about us?” Savorre rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t think it’s malicious as she raises a brow towards him.

“If you’re hoping for the inside scoop all I can offer is that we’ve been calling you ‘the tall one’, so don’t get too excited,” Savorre smiles a little, like it’s the secret he’s been waiting to be let in on. Maybe it is, because he’s been curious about all thirty of them since he met the pilots on the runway. He presses a little more.

“If I’m the tall one then what’s Kidd?”

“That’s classified information for the 349th to know and for neither you or Kidd to ever find out.” Bucky kisses his teeth, makes a hissing noise as he puts a hand over his heart as if he’d been wounded. She laughs again, with a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes.

“Y’know Savorre, they say secrets are poison to a marriage.”

“So now it’s a marriage? I thought it was a rescue mission.”

“Well I’m hoping if I promote myself I’ll get clearance to know what it is.” Savorre makes an ‘ah’ noise, then hums, like she’s really considering it. Makes a point to take her chin between fingers and stroke it pensively, staring up at the cloudy night above them before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Sound argument, sir, but no can do. Plus I’d have to be the one to promote you anyways if that’s how you wanna play it.”

She’s got him there. There’s a glint to her eye — something like mischief — and Bucky’s pretty quick to decide that he likes talking to her and wants to do it more. Mostly because she’s funny, which he didn’t know, and in part because somehow she’s made the idea of Jack Kidd being called anything besides Jack or Kidd seem like the most interesting thing in the world. It feels like a game in some respects and Bucky likes a good game.

“You can drop the sir,” Bucky offers. “...when we’re offbase.” An olive branch, or something like it, he watches the way her face softens up some in surprise, before she tilts her head and furrows her brows.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just us. Bucky works fine.” Savorre looks like she’s contemplating it for a moment, her expression virtually unreadable. It’s always been pretty easy for him to decide who he does and doesn’t like; it’s easy for him to file Savorre into the prior category as opposed to the latter. She nods, slowly, mutters his name under her breath before fixing her gaze back on him with a smile; warm, friendly.

“This isn’t just a way to get yourself on the fast track to promotion, is it?” Bucky scoffs in mock offense.

“Y’know, if you weren’t smiling all nicely I’d be offended by that.” He whines. Savorre snorts a little bit, which he doesn’t expect.

“Well then sorry, Bucky, and you can call me Viv when it’s just us. If that’ll make it up to you,” She offers and he nods. Viv. And then it’s almost like an immediate switch; how she rocks back on her heels for a moment, looking away from him to one of Wendover’s low rows of businesses and houses. “And thanks again for… playing along. I wouldn’t’ve done that if I had another option.” She sounds almost apologetic and Bucky rejects the unspoken apology with a wave of his own hand, a shake of his head.

“Anytime,” he assures, before amending the statement. “Well, maybe not anytime but if you need a bailout I’m not… it doesn’t bother me.” Viv nods, and he takes her in a little bit. The pinkened state of her cheeks and tip of her nose from the December air, and the progressive softening of her features.

She’s not readable, at least not in any way he understands quite yet. But she’s not stiff either, or rigid. The only other time he’s ever gotten some kind of read on her was when she’d breezed past him with two other pilots to go greet Veal with a “What took you so long?” and a smirk that reminded him of just about every other pilot he’d met, including himself. Maybe she didn’t have sharp edges, but she wasn’t shy or meek about anything.

She’s not shy or meek now either. Maybe comfortable, which feels like some kind of reward for him.

“I might give some of mine the heads up on that,” she admits. “If you don’t mind. Some of them are too shy about that kind of thing and don’t know how to ask.” It doesn’t sound like a complete thought, more like she had more to say but is withholding it. He decides not to pry into it.

“I don’t mind,” he agrees, instead. They lapse into silence for a moment, stiff with that uncomfortably frank knowledge that, yeah, this isn’t the first time any of them had been followed around. Bucky decides, quickly, that he doesn’t like it: the silence and the knowledge. He can do something about both, thankfully enough. “So can I keep walking you back or do you plan on leaving me in the dust?” Viv makes a noise, somewhere between amused and disbelieving.

“Yeah you caught me, I was planning on running for the hills ‘till you opened your mouth.”

“Yeesh, am I that bad of a husband?”

“Well I wouldn’t know. You promoted yourself pretty quick — and it still doesn’t count.” She walks towards him, and then brushes past, and he turns on his heel to follow her, falling in step pretty easily.

“I’m taking that as a ‘No, Bucky, you’re great and also terribly funny. An absolute catch.’” That makes her snort again and she reaches to lightly shove at him, but he doesn’t move much as she shakes her head.

“Sure, Bucky. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

[the-bitter-ocean]

I apologize to all of my followers who initially followed me for Aurora content (I still like the comic it’s very cool) I just have no desire to draw for it bc of recent stuff + ISAT is my main focus atm lol!

[baalzebufo]

"Hope you practiced your steps, babe, 'cause this song ain't a solo."

---

out of all the regional managers that corporate clash introduced... oh boy i love dave a lot. unwise about this cog. this started off as a doodle that got out of hand and i needed to finish it properly lol

[tortellinik1ng]

Something about how Finnick Odair represents how people cling onto fleeting sources of pleasure- he believed the tributes deserved the sugar more than the horses because they would die so much sooner and he was literally forced into being a source of physical pleasure for capitalites- but the one time he attempted to cling onto that pleasure and start a family he died.

Or something.

[xinanigans]

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU GOT ON THE AP LANG EXAM”

“A FIVE-“

[thoughtsnsh1t]

studied for like 30 mins and realized i’m fucked so now i’m staring blankly at practice tests with questions that i will not be able to figure out how to solve in the next 12 hrs❤️

[alliluyevas]

Would cersen and lysa want to marry one of their daughters to robb and have her be lady of winterfell

Oooh thank you for asking me about my AU! I think Lysa might really like this idea but I'm not sure Cerion would.

Joanna is also kind of in a bit of betrothal limbo, because if Cerion and Lysa never have a son she inherits Casterly Rock, but they are in their early thirties so they definitely hypothetically COULD have a son. However if they don't, they absolutely do not want Joanna marrying outside the family because they don't want control of Casterly Rock going to some rando from another house. The obvious solution here is Lancel but I think there's some reluctance to pull the trigger on that in case she maybe someday gets a little brother. So I think Joanna is sort of quasi-pre-betrothed to Lancel (with some caveats) and Minisa is too young for this to really be a discussion yet. (She's like 5-6 by AGOT era).

So that leaves Tyta to be the focus of most of the betrothal discussion, and I do think Robb is a good potential option for her (though Cerion is probably not hugely keen on the Starks and Lysa is kind of a helicopter mom and might not love the idea of shipping her off to the North especially knowing how little she's seen Catelyn since they married). The other obvious future husband for Tyta is, tragically, Joffrey, because I'm sure Tywin at least would rather have her queen than in Winterfell, but I don't think Robert would like the idea (too much Lannister! I want to marry into Ned's family!) and I don't know how Jaime and Cerion would feel about it (seeing as those kids are actually half-siblings as well as cousins). (I know book Jaime makes a comment about marrying Joffrey to Myrcella but I think in a situation where Jaime is actually raising said children she might feel differently, though the fact that no one KNOWS they're siblings might also affect whether they see this as a viable option).

[daniecho]

I didn’t have a good time reading those last three essays actually and I’m not looking forward to discussing them I don’t even want to go 🥲

[sunshyne-lollypops-and-raynbows]

Haven’t posted in three months uhhhhh

Oh.

BSD CH 117 RIPPED MY HEART OUT

[kate-apologist]

rip berenice wolfe you woulda loved the lesbian masterdoc

[puripurin]

— "What the fuck." You started at the merman who wriggled around for space. His eyes looked at you in fear as he saw you, before a blush had spread across his face.

Up until 30 seconds ago, you had lived a normal life, well, except for the obscene amount of work you were stressed out with. So you hopped on the boat your parents had gifted you some years ago and sailed into the sea. The feel of the ocean breeze hitting your face was a familiar sensation to you.

This was because your parents were fishermen and loved to eat seafood, and naturally, you had gravitated towards seafood, but with prices these days and your never-ending workload, it didn't allow you to do anything without setting you back on your tight deadlines. Until today.

You had gotten a whole week of paid vacation because a coworker was threatening to bring them to court for a long list of harassment. So they gave the people who worked the most a one week paid vacation. Though, to her, it wasn't enough, so you're getting a paid vacation week while they are still going to get sued. Whatever, its their fault either way.

Anyways, how did you reel in a merman that shouldn't even exist? Frankly, you don't know either. You had accidentally started to daydream, which turned into you not realizing something was caught, so instinctively, you were able to reel in a merman.

"H-huuuumann?" His deep moss green eyes stared at up at you with interest whilst you nearly got blinded by the shimmering gleem of his scales that were scattered across his cheeks. He stopped his advancements towards you until it was difficult to hold up his neck to see you.

"Erm... sorry for catching you, I was daydreaming. I'll unhook the fish hook attached to you..." You apologized and went down to unhook him, only for him to pull down your pants and underwear down, making you fall on the bench below you and stuffing his face in your genitals.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?" You pushed his face away, to which he pouted to. He sat there for a while as you tried to push him off the boat, to no avail.

"I... Accceppt thhis marrriaage!" He excitedly said as he tugged on your pants to gently pull it off again, but you held on tightly to your pants.

"What marriage? I didn't propose to you?" You evaded from his pulling hands in confusion.

"Whennn youuu reeeeledd mmeee inn dummmyy!" He slurred his words once more. "Shtop! I waant too tasstte you firrst beeforrre you tassteeee mee!" He huffed before his nails turned into sharp claws that shreaded your pants, then pulled down your underwear again and happily stuffing his face and licking your crotch with his tongue that felt rough.

Once more, you tried to move away but only ended up moaning at the feeling. Your face was slightly hot as you looked away but was swiftly pulled back in for a kiss, tasting your own fluids.

"Ah... finally... now it's your turn, cutie pie. We have to go to my hometown to get married <3"

"WHAT!?!? Firstly, no! Secondly, i will drown!"

"... Who said you can say no? When you reeled me, it was akin to a marriage proposal. Also, that's why you suck my dick and kiss me <333"

"WHAT--"

Was supposed to be posted yesterday, but when i saved a portion of it, i didn't see that i was save so i went back in to edit it to see what's rong before i saved it and for a slpilt second i saw the rest of it before it saved, so i lost majority of my work.

So now it looks like tjis. Womp womp. I think tjis is an afab reader? But i tried to make it gn as possible but i wannted a weird ass mermaid culture where to speak another's language, you gotta eat them out/suck them off before kissing person to speak. At first i wanted him to just kiss in order to get the language js like starfire but i was like,, so what do i do with him tryna eat you out??,, then boom yeahh.

Also, yo quero voy en me casaaaaaa *cries pathetically* No me gusta Español :((((((( not proofread. L

Edit: i forgot about tags. Mb.

[thepisserrrrrr]

i hate very little things more than i hate those 'fake disorder cringe' videos that keep popping up on my feed. literally a good fucking majority of the people in those tiktoks have no reason for people to believe theyre faking it. most of the time theyre just talking about their experiences with a disorder, people with DID and tourettes get it the worst usually, and theyre told theyre faking it. a disabled person will do ANYTHING related to their disorder and theyll be put in one of those videos

"but its so rare so they have to be faking it!!" dude what do you think rare means. rare means very uncommon, not that its a myth and no one on this planet actually has it

"people with xyz disorder dont talk about it so they have to be faking it!!" this might be shocking to you but not everyone with xyz disorder is the same

"thats not how it works!!" womp womp read the previous paragraph i wrote

you have no fucking idea whats in someone else's head or body so how dare you dictate it for them. i dont give a shit if you have the disorder yourself, i would hope you'd understand that not everyone's experience is the same. i dont give a shit if it actually seems like it might be fake, cause that doesnt mean you get to harass them. im not gonna fakeclaim someone for saying they have ADHD just because their experience isnt a carbon copy of my own

so moral of the story those 'fake disorder cringe' videos are extremely ableist and also just incredibly stupid and i hope anyone who watches them is ashamed of themselves

[celestie0]

Some headcanons about Kickoff college!Gojo, please!

hellooo my love i’m so sorry this took me a while i wanted to post ch9 first!

kickoff!gojo headcanons pt.1 unserious & fluffy edition lol

ᰔ these headcanons are based off of my fanfic “kickoff” which is about popular frat boy soccer college athlete gojo lol & there are spoilers below ᰔ for my kickoff readers: most of these are so unserious and/or fluffy (not rly much nsfw) hope u enjoy!!

kickoff!gojo who almost got arrested once for running away from the cops. he wasn’t even in trouble for anything they just started chasing him bc he started running 😭

kickoff!gojo whose primary love language is physical touch and so all of the times he’s had to NOT touch you has driven him absolutely fuckin nuts. positively BONKERS he’s practically been lobotomized by the restraint he’s had to exercise to not touch you

kickoff!gojo whose frat once hosted a date auction to raise money for rush and gojo singlehandedly raised $20k in one night from the bidding bachelorettes (and bachelors)🧍🏻‍♀️he has yet to go on all of those dates he owes them 😅 he runs away anytime his frat president tries to bring it up LOL

kickoff!gojo who is actually a pretty decent student, i mean he’s a business major so womp womp ofc he’s getting by just fine. i think his favorite class he’s ever taken was freshman year econ bc him and todo got into sm shit in that class and it's some of his fondest memories

kickoff!gojo who was literally picturing a life with you on the italian countryside when you were telling him about it. self inserted to the MAX

kickoff!gojo who is always the first to like all of your film photography slideshows on instagram because he has your post notifs on :”) you and messi are the only ppl he’s got post notifs on for 🤣

kickoff!gojo who thought he would be okay with watching your life from afar, through small pictures on his phone, but the thought devastated him more n more w every waking minute

kickoff!gojo who realized that having you wrapped in his arms at the end of ch9 was the closest thing he’s felt to peace since before the night his father passed away

kickoff!gojo who hasn’t really kept too much memoribilia of his father since a lot of the memories are painful for him, but he’s kept that old soccer ball w his dad’s signature n word of love for his mom on it

kickoff!gojo who wouldnt have been able to get through the trauma of losing his father if suguru wasn’t there by his side. he would’ve really lost himself, and would’ve given up on soccer if not for suguru's support. he's truly really grateful for him

kickoff!gojo who knows what his sun, moon & rising signs are because he’s been ran through 🙄 smh. WHORE

kickoff!gojo who plays for charity soccer tournaments on the weekends whenever he can 🫶🏼💕 he loves it bc there’s less pressure to play super well & also he loves getting to meet the people that the events are helping out

kickoff!gojo who has a massive sex drive (he got that athlete testosterone 😔🤚🏼) esp around someone he genuinely likes AHEM YOU so beware that if you start dating him he’s gonna beg you to put it on him at least 15 times a day and you’ll have to reject him 13.5 times

kickoff!gojo who is not ready to be a father at ALL at this point in his life but he’s thought ab how nice it would be to teach his kids how to play soccer someday :”) he’s givin me girl dad vibes tho, and you just KNOW he’s gonna be cheering on his lil girls when they’re tearing through the little league w their sparkly princess tiaras & tutus on 😤 he’d be the little league coach for sure LMAO

also little league coach!gojo would 100% promise to let the kiddos shave his head if they win the championship game 😭 i can just imagine you yelling at him when he randomly comes home bald one day

kickoff!nanami&choso&suguru who would be such protective soccer uncles to yours and gojo's duaghters. not a single boy would ever get NEAR those girls i'm telling youuu. pls pray for them haha

kickoff!gojo who figured out you were mina’s roommate through a little bit of facebook stalking. and yes, he scrolled all the way down to your embarrassing middle school photos. and yes, he still likes you despite seeing them. more, even, when he thinks about it. also, he’s pissed you had a digimon themed 9th birthday party and you didn’t invite him 😒 what’s up w that

kickoff!gojo & kickoff!choso who once illegally played an off-season tourney abroad in spain for a lump sum lmfaoo and it was a pretty decent cut of cash. but shhhh dont tell the NCAA ab that pls or else they’re fucked 💀

this is all i could think of rn haha thank you anon for the ask and hope you enjoyed them <333

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”