#gotta say? she improved on him in every possible way

[gideonisms]

why did she ship john/karkat. who ships john with anyone

[alpaca-clouds]

How redeeming Gortash would improve Karlach's story

I will admit, that the title is a bit overstated, because by the time you actually get to interact with Gortash, the plot just does not have enough time left to redeem him. Because other than what some folks in Hollywood think: No, giving a character one last minute "heel-face-turn" with one big symbolic act does not in fact redeem a character. Redemption is a process that takes time.

BG3 actually understands this, because Astarion's arc basically ends with: "You took the first steps towards redemption." Which is really good.

However: You could end the game at least in a way to set Gortash up for a possible redemption arc - and more importantly just... not have him die. Because actually that would improve Karlach's character arc.

I will get one thing out of the way first: The entire "Gortash redemption" idea is always contentious on the fact that he is a really bad guy. Like, he is bad. He brutally killed and tortured, he enslaved people, all of that.

I am an anarchist though. Hence, I do not really believe that punishment is in any way just. And to put it differently: Killing Gortash does not undo any of the harm he has caused. Not a single dead person will live through it, not a single tortured person will become untortured through it, and no slave is freed through it either (you kinda gotta say that as the player in a different mission).

And yes, I will say at this point that in general I was iffed by the fact that in many fights of the game I was not given a choice really. It was "either join the bad guys or kill them", and my "all charisma bard", who does not believe in killing for revenge, was like: "But... But..."

Like, my Tav was on board with killing Cazador (because literally in the situation it is "kill Cazador or have 7000 people die") and killing Ketheric (because he needed to die to end the curse), but he is already iffy on Orin (as she never had a choice but to be a killer) and definitely is not on board with killing Gortash (because there is no good reason to do it).

But let me talk about Karlach. Because the thing is... I have seen a lot of commentary on how Wyll is underwritten. And he is. But not as underwritten as Karlach. Like, her entire companion quest basically goes: "Kill some fake paladins, find Dammon, find two pieces of Infernal Iron, kill Gortash (which you have to do for plot reasons either way)". She doesn't really have a dungeon connected to her quest. Nor really an exclusive boss fight, because again: Gortash you kinda gotta fight for the story either way. Nothing really.

Every other character, too, also has to make one hard decision. Where they want one thing - but what is actually the good thing is something else. I wrote about this before, the "become what you hate" decision, basically.

Karlach doesn't. Sure, you could argue that the "die or go back to Avernus" decision is her big decision. But it feels very different than the decisions of the others.

Which brings me to Gortash and saving him.

Here is the thing: Logically speaking Gortash should probably be able to fix Karlach's engine. He understands infernal engines, as he built the Steel Watch around them. You can easily argue that yeah, he should be able to fix Karlach. And that... would actually make for a great decision for Karlach's story.

If I would get to fix Karlach's companion quest, I would probably do it like this: Put in some sort of dungeon where Dammon sends you in the hope that you can find some plans there, that might give him an understanding on how to fix the engine. Heck, if you do not wanna do a whole new dungeon, you could also just put some plans or whatever into the Steel Foundry.

The point is that it will then turn out that, yeah, even with those plans for some reason Gortash is the only one who could fix it. Putting Karlach into the spot to make this decision: Does she value her life more than her revenge on Gortash?

Because here is the thing: Gortash is supposed to be 1) the intelligent one of the dead three chosen, and 2) also clearly is the one who acts first and foremost in some sense for his own self-preservation. Which made me go like: "Nah, this does not make sense," when he decides to fight against me after his Steel Watch was disabled and I already killed the other two chosen.

So, yeah... You should get at least a chance to persuade him to just give up - or, going back to what I was talking about before - to save Karlach.

And again, I actually think that even for the Gortash part of the story it would make for more interesting storytelling. Killing him is not really that interesting.

Especially as, once again, killing him does not undo any of the harm he has caused. But given that he is this big egghead he could actually do something good if he got to live. And yeah, also there is the fact that... You know... Given what we know about his backstory, his actions are about as understandable as those of some of the companions.

Some of you might already know, I have written some fics dealing with the way how I would imagine something like this to go. Mainly Hurt begets Hurt (which is basically my Tav convincing Gortash to give up), An Impossible Future (Karlach inner turmoil after her engine is fixed) and Cheesy Noodles (Gortash being a big meany towards Tav, who is unphased by this).

I am right now writing a story featuring Astarion dealing with a very, very depressed Gortash.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can you do some Adam x Lute x reader hcs where Lute is jealous of Adam and readers relationship, like Adam pays more attention to reader or something like that? Masc or male reader pls 💙

Adam x Reader x Lute but Lute is jealous

I gotta be real I was a little confused on if the three were in a poly relationship or not so I kept it a little open! Hope this turned out okay!!

Written on mobile

I can very easily see adam being the type to play favorites and have them change every other week depending on who did what for him

Lute did something for him? Hes going to favor Lute a little more

You did something for him? He favors you more

And so on

He becomes more likely to ask you for favors, as well as generally seeking you out

Which leaves a very jealous lute, angry at being left behind

But yet, she doesnt direct her anger towards adam. Rather its directed towards you, regardless of it its fair or not...

She becomes very passive aggressive towards you, and likely tries to sabotage you throughout the day

And towards adam, she becomes a bit of a suck up, trying way too hard to regain his favor

Generally theres a lot of stress going on within you three; with adam being a dense douchebag, you just trying to be a good friend/partner, and lute being a jealous try hard

You may have to take lute to the side and confront her to try to find out what the issue is

Shes going to be stubborn, and probably try to insist that you know what's going on, even if you dont

This isnt to say that I think the dynamic is impossible or that it's not possible to fix into something healthy

If it's a poly romantic relationship, you both need to talk to Adam and explain everything. It won't fix itself over night and it's going to be a process of righting behavior that hes had for a long time.. as well as trying to get lute to be more open to speaking instead of immediately causing conflict

If it's a case where you're dating adam only, and lute is a third wheel boundaries are going to need to be put in place. For both Adam and lute. Adam is going to have to catch himself from his favoritism. Lute will have to accept the change that is adam having a romantic interest

Loads of routes, with improvement being slow but possible

[yuurei20]

Ace Info Compilation part 14: Phantom Bride(pt2)

After the rescue from Eliza Ortho encourages Idia to thank Ace and the others for their efforts, but Ace is less than pleased with Idia’s reaction of, “Would’ve been nice if they hadn’t cut it so close.”

Idia resorts to self-degradation and Ace shifts gears to complimenting him, leading Riddle to respond, “What’s your angle?” Ace explains “I’m just stating the facts. Doesn’t Idia look cool today?…Also, the whole day culminated in him getting dumped at the alter. Who wouldn’t feel sorry for the guy?”

After receiving a wealth of compliments Idia’s mood improves to the point that he agrees, “People did call me a ‘promising prodigy’ when I was a kid. And I’ve only gotten better, so I guess it’s no surprise.”

Ace observes, “Well, you really are cool, Idia. So long as your mouth is shut.”

In the wake of the wedding the first year students are left behind to clean up the dining hall and Epel asks Ace if he has ever had feelings for anyone. (Ace responds, “What, you think I’m some kind of flirt?”)

Ace explains that he had a girlfriend in middle school and they’d go out to movies and the amusement park together, but she wouldn’t ride the rides he liked or watch the movies that he wanted to see and hanging out with her “was just plain boring,” so he ghosted her.

Ace says the worst part was “One day, a bunch of girls called me completely out of the blue. I didn’t even know who they were…they gave me the third degree! What’s up with THAT? That’s when I learned a valuable lesson: romance is way more trouble than it’s worth! It’s way more fun just chillin’ with my buds.”

(Grim follows with, “I just learned a valuable lesson too: you’re a big baby.”)

Ortho thanks Ace for saving Idia and Ace insists that he “wasn’t exactly invested. I was more caught up in the moment after escaping all those ghosts.”

Grim agrees with Ace, saying, “There ain’t no way Ace is some shining white knight at heart,” but Ortho says that “every possible data metric points to Ace having been sincere.”

Ace insists “I don’t got a romantic bone in my body! That was pure improv! I just said whatever I thought the ghost lady would buy,” but Ortho assures him that “You’d unquestionably win anyone’s heart!”

Epel says he wishes that he could have been there for Ace’s monologue and Ortho offers to send him a full recording.

Deuce says that they all should watch it together despite Ace’s protests: “None of that was the slightest bit sincere. Honest! Why’s everyone gotta mess with me like this! Seriously, can’t we just move on already?”

Rook has a voice line about Ace being “a passionate soul” who wishes that Rook wouldn’t praise him.

Phantom Bride is not Ace’s only dramatic line reading: during Spectral Soiree he stands up against a presumably possessed Malleus and declares that “The Hallowenders aren’t gonna lose…PERIOD!”, which he is later mocked for by Floyd and Leona.

[certkidwhocantdomath]

The artist's user is literally on the top and bottom of the art.

You May Just Live To Regret It

Additional tags: Blind Character, Blindfolds, Referenced Character Injury, Character Death, Angst, Hurt/no Comfort, Kenshi Takahashi needs a hug, Kenshi Takahashi-centric, Survivor's Guilt, Backgroud Relationship

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠

"I guess the ayes have it, outvoting Kenshi here. Motion carries!"

It should have been him.

"Lead the way, Ashrah."

It should have been him.

That’s what keeps echoing in Kenshi’s head, as he guides the hand on his shoulder through the Living Forest.

"Lagging behind, Takahashi? We gotta keep going."

He was scared to look back, like Orpheus, afraid that if he did, the person following him would be lost forever. Kenshi stepped up his pace following their new friend from the Netherrealm, Ashrah, in the hopes of finding Shang Tsung’s partner in crime.

"There you go. Don’t worry about me, Kendoll. I know it’s hard to stop thinking about me but we gotta find this Quan-Chi first."

It happened so fast, yet Kenshi knew he could have been faster, smarter, he could have fought off Mileena’s hold on his shoulders in her feral state, he could have shouted at Johnny earlier to duck but all he did was watch as Cage ripped the princess from him and she-

"God, this reminds me of Wicked Planet," Johnny mused, listening to the sounds of the forest around him.

Johnny will never be able to see a movie again.

The spine-chilling scream of agony echoes in his ears, drowning out his cry for Johnny, as Mileena’s sais stabbed into the star’s skull-

"We had this forest in the second act-"

Kenshi turned his head by instinct to ask, "The manticore battle?"

It was a mistake.

"Yes!"

The sight choked him with guilt painfully in his chest, Johnny’s smile marred by the red blindfold covering his gouged out eye sockets. The same salve treated cloth he wrapped as gently as possible around the man’s head, the barest he could do to relieve the immeasurable pain he had caused.

You saved me, and it cost you everything.

How can I ever forget that?

"It was a pain to shoot, but man did it come out epic."

Because of him, Johnny’s career, his entire livelihood, is over.

He can see how Johnny’s mood had improved since they escaped Shang Tsung’s laboratory, how Kenshi had angrily talked the martial arts actor out from leaving him there, dragging him out, because he had to live, he had to-

Takahashi smiled despite how horrible it felt to do so.

"I can picture it exactly."

And yet the smile was worth it to see Johnny brighten at his words, to feel then the assuring squeeze on his shoulder, silently communicating to him.

I’m not dead Takahashi. I’ll work my way round this, even if it takes years to do it.

If there was anyone who would change Hollywood to adjust to him, it was Johnny. He doesn’t know how, but…

Kenshi swears to help him every step away, to try and start repaying the star for saving his life.

╬╬═════════════╬╬

"Woah there, Samurai Jack. I gotta stop you right there."

Kenshi felt Johnny’s hand on his chest, stopping him from following Ashrah and the others from stopping Quan-Chi’s soul stealer machinations.

"Johnny, you heard her! Millions could die. And I can’t-"

I can’t stand by again and do nothing to stop it from happening.

"I know, Takahashi, I can’t fight with you guys. I’m blind now, not stupid."

That made Kenshi flinch, and the reaction distracted him enough for Johnny to unclip the sword from behind his back. The swordsman turned to face him and-

“Which is why we don’t want you tripping us up out there for the both of us.”

In Johnny’s hand was Sento, waiting to be taken.

Kenshi’s heart stopped.

Johnny pushed his ancestral sword, what he swore to reclaim, into his tattooed hands, grip tainted with the remains of the actor’s blood.

"What?!"

The man gave him his signature smile as he clipped the old sword to his back.

He didn’t deserve Sento anymore, if he ever did, why was he giving it to him, after he lost his sight because of him, leaving him vulnerable and unable to-

"I can’t. Not when you’re-"

It’s his fault, it’s all his fault-

It should have been him, not Johnny-

Johnny grabbed his wrist firmly, the star’s gaze piercing into him, even when blindfolded now.

"I saved your life. And when you save those people, your dept to me is repayed."

"Johnny, it-it's not that simple! I-"

"It is that simple."

Kenshi’s hands trembled slightly, Johnny’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"It’s yours."

The Taira clan’s legacy, returned after centuries apart…

Kenshi raised the sheathed katana, feeling as though an invisible bond was reignited within him.

Then before he could utter another a word, say anything back to Johnny, thank him or protest he didn’t deserve it in his dishonor, Quan-Chi’s spell disrupted them, as the necromancer created a monstrous soul amalgamation they needed to stop now.

Kenshi Takahashi…

In your time of need, the Taira will not fail you.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

"Well... Clearly, I underpaid for that. Did you know it could do that?"

"The legends never mentioned mystical powers. The souls of my ancestors live within it... They intend to guide me."

"Just don’t forget who gave it to you, Takahashi."

"I swear on my life, Cage. I won’t."

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

They were close to the portal, every battle they’d fought was won and all they had to do now was run as fast as they can from Sun Do’s forces. Quan-Chi may have escaped but what mattered more was their own withdrawal, back to Earthrealm, back to Liu Kang.

Johnny had given him Sento, with all that they went through together, and Kenshi could see it exactly, what he would do with the Taira’s ancestral sword guiding his clan out of the yakuza, freeing them, and being by Johnny’s side as they rebuilt their lives together-

"Run, Kenshi!"

Syzoth, Kung Lao and Ashrah made it past the glowing mist of the portal gate, disappearing to the other side and no doubt Kenshi knows when Liu Kang learns from them all that this mission, that yielded neither Shang Tsung nor Quan-Chi, cost the eyesight of one of his champions-

"Get them!"

"Johnny, we’re almost there!"

He refused to look back, he was sure they would make it, he was a hand outstretched away, the other holding Johnny’s-

Krakk!

Kenshi abruptly stopped dead in his tracks.

His hearing was deafened by the sharp sound of breaking bone.

He had to look back-

Slowly, agonizingly, his stomach dropped in what must have been a second to take in the sight-

Johnny raised his hand to grasp Reiko’s spear pierced through his chest, blood spilling out in a gasp. The blindfolded star took a step back from the strike, staggering.

No, no-

Outworld’s forces were closing the distance and Kenshi couldn’t move, he can’t, he has to-

Johnny, through the excruciating pain, smiled at him.

"See ya, Kenshi. Don’t forget to live, okay?"

Then before he could stop him, Johnny kicked him in the chest, sending Kenshi through the portal to Earthrealm and on the floor-

"Johnny, NO!"

And the last thing he saw before Liu Kang’s fire brought him back, was Johnny turning to face General Shao and his soldiers charging at him, the superstar smirking as he took his last stand.

─────────ೋღ 🥀 ღೋ─────────

After he had yelled his entire heart out, he began sobbing and weeping at the pain of losing a friend.

The weather must have known what he was feeling right now in this very moment. Because when he screamed his lungs and vocal cords out, thunder had struck next to him.

Another one of his loved ones..

Dead.

Just like Suchin.

Just like his mother.

Just like his father.

The gods must be punishing him for his sins as an assassin and working as a member of the yakuza.

"Kuso… Zenbu watashi no seida… Warui no wa watashida… Watashi ga subekidatta nda!" He whispered then yelled at himself.

Kenshi continued his mantra of survivor's guilt and self-loathing, uncaring about the violent rain hitting his back, until he noticed something shiny on the now muddy ground.

A dogtag.

His eye brows furrowed and he grabbed it and wiped the mud off.

The text on the dogtag brought more tears to his eyes.

JOHNNY CAGE

Blood: YOURS

Religion: CAGE

Johnny must have thrown it into the portal before it closed and before he was brutally killed. Johnny had told him about how his mother had this dogtag custom made for him as a birthday gift.

He brought the dogtag to his chest, right where his heart is, and clutched onto it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Because it is, his blood is on your hands and this dogtag is the only thing left of him.

Kenshi put the dogtag on and stood up. He wiped the tears from his eyes and started making his way towards the academy.

═════════•°•⚠•°•═════════

Kenshi entered the academy, not caring about the fact he was soaking wet, and was instantly greeted by several familiar face.

Kung Lao was the first to notice him. But he also noticed another thing.

"Kenshi, where's Johnny?"

Tears welled up in Kenshi's eyes again and he looked down at the ground and shook his head.

Silence.

Everyone knew what had happened.

Johnny is dead.

"H-how?-" Raiden attempted to ask but was interrupted by Kenshi.

"Stabbed through the chest by Reiko's spear." Kenshi's voice was hard and stern, clearly it intimidated everyone.

Or rather, nearly everyone.

Bi-Han walked towards him with his brothers attempting to stop him.

"Brother, please-" Kuai Liang tried.

Bi-Han walked up close to him and growled in his ear. "What did you just say?..." Bi-Han's voice was deeper and more intimidating than usual.

"I said, Johnny was stabbed through the heart by Reiko."

Bi-Han got even closer and more quietly whispered.

"You swore you would protect him. That you would bring him back me and his daughter."

Kenshi did swear that and he failed to fulfill that promise.

Having had enough, Kenshi walked past Bi-Han while aggressively and purposefully bumped his shoulder against Bi-Han's own.

When he passed Liu Kang, he brushes his cold wet sleeve against Liu Kang's.

Now, there was only one other person to face.

Cassandra Carlton "Cassie" Cage.

----AUTHOR'S NOTE----

Now I will admit, I've never written angst before but this was actually pretty good! And remember those coldstar headcanons centered around smut? That was my first time writing smut too!

Next will write about coldstar's first kiss and then Johnny's revival!

[incarnateirony]

I hate to break it to people, but once they stop screaming over reality and trying to project their stuff at real people rather than listening to how they communicate, what they mean--

Jensen and Dean's journey is nearly the same. It's part of how he put himself to peace with Dean, and was one of the primary reasons (I've listed a few others before) he did this. (I remember before the prequel, and before clarified on stage a few times, 2po screeched specifically against this, but what's true is true.)

And that includes today's panel of Jared and Jensen distinguishing their opinions and perspectives despite the seeming parallelism of their paths.

I've banged on about Dean, Rocky, Rox(x)y. Not Who I Am, UnSure Who I Am, Who She Really Is. Jojo's dialogue about accepting who we are.

But that's just it. It's how that "we" is applied.

Jojo's use is addressing multiple people to accept, individually, who YOU are. However, if there's only a "who WE are" for you, if there's only your weird group identity or something, then you still didn't stick that Who I Am part.

And for many years, Jensen has grown and changed, reacted to stimuli and learning experiences to improve. And now he picked up this old alchemical story torch to run it.

And why? Because he Had A Take. It's interesting that you say it, because In That Exact Moment, He Had A Take. But then, by the next setup, He Has A Take. I Have A Take. But nobody wants to actually ask what that take is. They're too busy telling others what that new take is, off of OLD pretenses, thus deleting it as a new one.

It's the same way Jared assumed Jensen's question was also HIS question at Dencon, and thus shoved his bullshit in there and left Jensen buffering figuring out how to answer, since it's contrary to EVERYTHING he was working on. To not invalidate Jared's experience and feeling about the content, and also frankly not pick a fight with his coworker on stage while the show was still vulnerable.

And they talked about it. And now, Jared doesn't jump into questions over Jensen. *We* talked about it but *I*. Jensen using I. It's not We Are.

It's not Our Take. It's Jensen's take. Who He Is. What He Stands For. The Path He Chose. And that's different than Jared's, and that's okay, Jared can take from art or life what he wants, but it's not Jensen's, and Jensen knows Who He Is, and realized Who Dean Is through it too.

J2 ops and branding drift as Jensen individualizes his path and messaging, and Jared and Jensen both clearly picked different audiences. I even mean pollitical skew outside of SPN audiences. That's also fine I guess. Your choice dude. But those are Jared's choices, not Jensen's, and Jensen is going to continue to highlight in every possible way that Jared's take is not his take.

The Winchesters' ending is his new take. That's what it is. And that's why the antis and grifters are working so hard to convince everyone to ignore what the creatives are saying, and convince you that your voices weren't heard.

They were. But you gotta care to listen to how, and why Jensen sees it. You gotta let him Just Be, and listen to him the way he means to talk, or otherwise, you just gotta wait for the end and realize that your reservation was never the Pragmatism you sold it to yourself as.

Jensen is a wonderful person. He just wants you to Just Be. To Just Be It Or Do It Or Say It Or Take Up Space. Robbie's a wonderful person. When he meets you, he doesn't just tell you how it's going to go, he asks your story first.

Listen to what I have been telling you guys. Put your thinker caps on and ask yourselves what's happening here.

it's ok guys. just be. once you learn to carry this torch, you can do anything, even if it takes a while, because you know yourself. Robbie knew himself. Bobo knew himself. We knew ourselves. Jensen found himself. And now in it Dean, and everyone has a chance to hear.

Just listen.

[tiredstressedemotionalmess]

3, 6, 9, 10, 13, 17, and 25 for the ask game? 🥰

woah thank you!!!

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

i remember seeing a post a WHILE ago (not sure if it was actually on here or somewhere else) stating that anyone who says "the killjoys aren't mcr" is just lying to excuse writing rpf. which already on its own is just Incorrect, but then their evidence for this argument was essentially that, if the killjoys weren't mcr then more ppl would ship party/kobra bc there's nothing in canon that says they're siblings 💀

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

i think id have to say funpoison AND I SHIP FUNPOISON OKAY- i just think they're by far the most popular ship and they tend to be the default dd ship for most ppl, which leads a lot of especially newer fans to bring the up at Every Possible Moment even when the content they're interacting with isn't funpoison based (stuff like "wow i loved this story but i think id work better if it was funpoison instead of poisonstar"). its not a super huge or common occurrence, but in comparison to fans of other ships i think funpoison fans are just more likely to be annoying like that bc theres a lot more of them and its the main ship for new fans

9. worst part of canon

THE RACISM. the whole "japan takes over the world" thing is a gross and racist trope that stems from WWII propaganda, the way the director in particular is portrayed in the comics is just FILLED with racist stereotypes of east asian women, and the comics in general severely lack actual characters of color. this post and this post go a lot more in depth into these issues and id highly recommend reading them for those who havent heard a lot on this subject

10. worst part of fanon

ALSO THE RACISM. the best part of fanworks is that creators have the ability to improve upon parts of the original text in their own works, and yet there is is this refusal from white fans that fans of color have pointed out time and time again to acknowledge said racism in canon and how it carries over into fanon works. i know i was absolutely guilty of this in the past and im trying to do better, and i know the only way for us white fans to do better is to LISTEN TO PEOPLE OF COLOR. stop using aave as killjoy slang, stop turning jet star into the motherly one/making him an overbearing caretaker, stop recycling racist shit from the comics in fanart/fics

13. worst blorbofication

jet star. people just looooove giving my poor girl ZERO personality aide from "oh they're the mom friend" "oh they give the best advice" "oh she the one who takes care of the girl" LITERALLY SHUT UP AND GIVE HIM AN ACTUAL CHARACTER TRAIT FOR ONCE PLEAAASE. GIVE HIM SOME DEPTH SOME STORY WRITE HIM LIKE A REAL FUCKING PERSON

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

SHOWPOISON!!! i love them sm they're such an underrated ship imo, i would KILL to see more of them. also i need more art/stories of ghoul and kobra just fucking around and doing dumb shit together i LIVE for that shit and there will NEVER be enough for me THEYRE IDIOTS AND I LOVE THEM AND I NEED TO SEE THEM BEING DUMB TOGETHER

25. common fandom complain that you're sick of hearing

uhhhh yk i honestly cant rlly think of a common complaint thats not actual valid criticism.. OH maybe ppl who talk about actually genuinely wanting a danger days tv show. we have such a good thing going here with the lack of canon there is NO WAY any possible show they could make would be a good idea that wouldn't cause massive chaos in this fandom. and like i reallllly dont trust gerard or netflix or whoever the fuck would be in charge of this show to actually make it good im sorry i just dont its a bad idea on all fronts we gotta stop unironically talking about it 😭

[chirpbudgie]

more digging through gidget’s brain. didn’t capitalize this one for fun meow

cws for: discussion of past trauma and it’s effects.

gidget, first and foremost, is a child.

in some unorthodox ways maybe, yes. he’s got perpetual baby-face and is shorter than most other stanleys. if you look close, he’s got freckles that make him appear especially boyish. his speaking has improved over time but still falls somewhere between a child’s lilt and a deaf accent. (who did he pick that up from, anyway? he refuses to tell.)

but also in the ways he smiles unabashedly, wholeheartedly. he doesn’t really laugh that often, but it’s visible in his eyes. and his eyes, he’s almost comically bad at lying, but will use his sad puppy-dog expression for evil. he’s really something else when he hides his brown eyes through his lashes. when it works, he always curls his fingers; it’s a stim less obvious than hand flapping and probably not good for his joints.

and his emotions are hard and fast and sometimes difficult to manage. he loves and he loves, no end in sight, almost to rival leigh. but he doesn’t go many weeks without tears, good or bad. (he cried for 10 minutes at the end of mary poppins.) every home he stays at, he leaves a trail of “drink water” sticky-note reminders, usually not from himself. he’s got a bad memory, okay?

the second is that gidget is traumatized.

and a lot more than it shows at first glance. he’s got some separation anxiety if you squint, regression and disassociation. and enough flinching to last a lifetime, if someone’s body or voice has even the possibility of frustration at him. (he’s gotten better with that, but bad days are bad days.)

he’s bashful, trying to learn how to accept compliments he’s never gotten before, hides his face with his hands, sometimes wiggles a little. loves being cared for, but too shy to admit it past a vague “that feels nice,” “thank you for dinner,” “can i sit with you?”

he won’t talk about his parable, often can’t handle jokes about it. it should have come up in therapy by now but he always shuts down trying to dig memories out from broken walls of repression. he hates how it bleeds into his life, swallowing him up at the sight of blurry faces or being called obedient, sometimes even small concrete rooms.

and the third is that gidget doesn’t get mad.

so it’s frightening, both for him and those around him when he is. it has a lot of bad ways to end. he can get huffy or frustrated, yes, but it’s very rare to see him truly angry. if you can tell from a distance, it’s already too late to calm him.

it’s like a really ugly tantrum. he thrashes and wails—it’s impossible for him to express thoughts—and almost always cries. they have to restrain him so he doesn’t hurt someone, usually himself; spencer has managed to hold him alone, but it’s much easier with two people. he’s not very strong by any means, but he’s got a habit of biting, and bite force is not to be reckoned with.

(he’s gotten free before. he was still thrashing when he hit the floor and almost knocked himself out.)

but they have a system that works, for the most part. the only thing they know for sure is that it happens when he’s overwhelmed for a long time. but when he’s worn himself out and is ready to listen, he takes deep breaths with whoever held him. they try to turn off his senses—dark room, earplugs, whatever—because his everything is still raw.

despite everything, he’s on the right path, dr. joy says. he needs to relearn how to be angry, even if he expresses it in some unorthodox ways right now. it’s a scary and overwhelming feeling, but not inherently bad. they can work on less destructive ways when they know he won’t bottle it up.

(she’s tried to provoke him to anger in their sessions. gidget always responds in fear, confusion, or distress. it’s been trained out of him like a dog that doesn’t bark. they’ve gotta take what they can get.)

if gidget ends up hurting someone during a meltdown, he’ll apologize and apologize. sometimes he’s got to be watched close for a few days to make sure he doesn’t try to distance himself, especially if it’s someone in the household.

(it’s because it reminds gidget of his narrator creator. he had mostly unpredictable rage, and gidget never wants to be like him. they could never be comparable, since the fellow is shit at actually apologizing, but children learn by example.)

[barbex]

Spending the New Year’s Eve on a boat and watching the fireworks go off on the shore is a once in a lifetime experience. - ship of your choice! (If you do find time ❤️)

Oh, you are devious! How can I possibly resist?

Thank you for the prompt.

---

"A boat? Are you serious?" Anders looks at Hawke and Isabela and shakes his head. "Did you steal this?"

Hawke presses her hand to her chest in mock indignation. "How can you possibly suggest..." She sounds exactly like the kind of noble lady her mother wishes she were. The illusion breaks quickly when she grins at Isabela in her arm. "I rented it for tonight."

Anders decides not to ask questions, it's the first time in years that he doesn't work at the Emergency Room on New Year's Eve and watching the fireworks from the water is a thing he wouldn't miss for any reason. Even if the boat is stolen. 

Isabela steers the boat along the docks, opposite of the pier where the fireworks will start. Anders finds a bench and huddles into his coat as he watches the first stray fireworks before midnight. Without the distraction of the busy ER, he feels a bit melancholy. Hawke kisses Isabela' neck at the steering wheel, Carver has his arms wrapped around Merrill, but he is alone. 

Loneliness is nothing new for Anders. But usually he's too busy to notice it. 

"Anders." 

He knows this voice, and he tries to hide his sigh. Fenris doesn't like him, shows it clearly every time he sees Anders, and won't do anything to improve his mood. "Hello, Fenris." 

"You are not working tonight?"

Anders pushes himself off the bench and shakes his head. "Sorry to disappoint." He walks past Fenris to the other side of the boat. This side has no view, but at least he won't clash with Fenris. The downside to this boat is that it's not very large, he can't really avoid him.

"Anders."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Anders whips around, glaring at Fenris. "I'm not bothering you, okay? I specifically went to this side to leave you alone. It's New Year's Eve, I don't want to go into the new year fighting with you." 

Fenris looks confused. "Fighting with me?" 

"What else do you want to call it? Yes, I'm a mage, a danger to everyone, I should be locked up and leashed. You've made your point clear." He stomps back the way he came to the other side of the boat and climbs up a ladder to the small upper deck. At least here he can be alone.

A countdown sounds over the water, slightly distorted from the wind. It's almost midnight. Anders lights a little magelight in his hand.

"I never meant it like that." Fenris' voice comes from the ladder, his head peeking over the edge. "I thought... I could never say anything like that to a mage before in my life. I thought it was fun."

"Fun?" Anders can't help but laugh. "Not my kind of fun."

The countdown is down to five seconds.

"Come here," Anders says, patting the place on the deck next to him. "You gotta watch the fireworks."

Fenris crawls over, sitting down next to Anders just as the countdown is down to one and the fireworks begin. The sky fills with red, yellow, blue, and green lights, blinking and glittering. 

Anders can't help but smile. "Isn't it beautiful?" He's so mesmerized, he doesn't even notice how close Fenris is sitting to him, their knees touching. 

"Yes," Fenris says.

Anders looks at Fenris, finding himself mesmerized by Fenris' gaze. There is nothing of the hostility in his eyes he always believed to see. It's something different, something very different. He feels like he's swimming in foreign waters. 

After a long while, Fenris looks back to the fireworks, colorful lights illuminating his face. "I don't know how it is here, but in Tevinter, when the New Year begins, it is custom to kiss someone to bring in the new year."

Anders' heart skips in his chest. "I heard of that too."

"Can I kiss you?" Fenris asks, his hand hovering between them. "For the new year?"

Anders takes Fenris' hand from the air and puts it on his shoulder, placing his own hand over it. "Yes." 

Fenris leans closer, kissing him, slowly and carefully at first, but then the kiss becomes urgent, hungry, taking Anders' breath away. He has to pull back to catch his breath, staring at Fenris as if he could disappear from his sight like water running through his fingers.

"Fenris," Anders breathes out. "Why now?"

Fenris traces a line down Anders' cheek with his fingertip. "It is a new year."

"Yes, it is."

"I want to leave a lot behind me in the old year." Fenris' finger still brushes over Anders' face. "And take something new into the new year."

The fireworks are still going on, colorful lights reflecting in Fenris' eyes. Anders slides his hand over the side of Fenris' head, into his hair. "I think... I think I want that, too."

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Met Gala 2023 Presented By Me

With this year's theme being "in honor of Karl Lagerfeld", a fashion designer whom I'm learning from the fashion community is "ew", lets see what we got:

~The Models~

-Rihanna being fashionably late, wearing an egg?-like top that opens to reveal a simple yet beautiful dress (she's got a baby bump!); the "no shit" was iconic honestly

-Jared Leto fursuit (its cause he was dressing as Lagerfeld's cat)

-Harvey Guillen coming through with a lovely floral suit, I'm not usually one for light pink but his was very pretty

-Who let Lil Nas X have access to the arts and crafts box (but he looked stunning, the mask was gorgeous and he's got more confidence than most to pull off what I'm now calling a Full Bedazzle)

-Kristen Stewart going full butch queer, the eyebrows and hair were rugged inspired and most didn't like it but I think that was the point?

-Pedro Pascal and his knee against the world (as well as spreading the red is superior agenda cause it is)

-^ but with Salma Hayek cause holy shit this is the red agenda

-Bryan Tyree Henry continuing to remind me how much my taste in men has improved over the years because he is so fucking fine ANYWAY-

-Lizzo giving me feminine gender envy despite the odds

-Janelle Monae doing a Janelle Monae as is customary (I'd love to know what the inspo was for her if so let me know!)

-Bella Ramsey you are so gender thank you (and they served too, the Thom Browne suit with the white accents is simple yet very classy)

-Every year I give one (1) free pass for a man to wear a standard suit, this year goes to Ke Huy Quan because I couldn't say anything bad about him if I tried (at least he had some style, the fingerless gloves were cool)

-Obligatory Gwendoline Christie was there and existed comment by me because I am in love and I am not ashamed of it

-Florence Pugh's fit had mixed reactions, the shaved head, headdress and white dress look were really good but I think the way the dress came out had people not fully digging it, I can understand but I'll appreciate it nonetheless

-Anne Hathaway in all her fuzzy glory (the hair's a beehive on a very felted dress but like it worked? marks for originality and being able to pull it off)

-Loved Stephanie Hsu's bedazzled suit, won't be able to stop thinking about it actually

-Tems was stunning, I'm a huge fan of the floating leaves design we need more nature-inspired looks

-Olivier Rousteing and Jeremy pope slaying with their "Karl who?" and cape apparel

-Gotta shout out Yara Shahidi for going with something unique, the pearl's color palette works surprisingly better than I expected with the gold (personally I would have more gold trim in the top half but that's just me)

-Let Lady Gaga's outfit for the Met Gala this year be a lesson in misinformation because the pictures circulating Tumblr are not in fact from the 2023 Met, she didn't attend (it is a stunning outfit though)

-Jenna Ortega looking almost like a dapper pirate in the absolute best way possible the gender envy the style I am going insane

-Doja Cat living up to her name (Cats should take notes honestly the makeup was really good. She also kept answering reporter questions by meowing. Because she's Doja. Anyway.)

-Anok Yai's dress reminds me of those ornate beaded lampshades, I wonder if that's where she/her designer got the idea

-Emily Blunt giving me gay panic once again WHY IS SHE SO GORGEOUS (she's got a giant fucking bow tie that's what clowns wear why is she able to pull it off this is so unfair)

-Conan Gray looked like an actual prince I am obsessed

-I saw someone said Cardi B was giving goth Barbie and that is honestly the best way to describe it

-Yung Miami having a beautiful look cause her outfit was underrated this year

-I thought Emily Blunt and Bryan Tyree Henry were all I had to worry about and then Julia Garner came in with a steel chair

-Ella Fanning's look captivating me specifically

-And cause I can't comment on every person or we'd be here all day, go check out the underrated outfits from Amanda Seyfried, Alton Mason, Glenn Close, Sora Choi, Ava Max, Jessica Chastain, Taika Waititi and many more!

~Final Thoughts~

-The palette this year was very black and white... literally. Lots of outfits in black, white, or both. I'm not really into the fashion community so I wouldn't know but I'm guessing its a signature theme of Lagerfeld's? Let me know! I'm always down to learn more about other communities and their history

-I'm also assuming Lagefeld's got a thing for flowers cause there were a lot of flowers imbedded into the outfits, they looked lovely~

-As well as long flowy dress/coat tops cause there were a lot, and I loved how people mixed it in with the flowers. Lots of the men did it this year and it looked fantastic

-Speaking of, I'm proud of the men for actually dressing up this year omfg its insane how many male celebrities will go to a literal fashion event and pull up with nothing but a plain ass suit and though most of them this year did wear suits, there was much pizazz. Like, actual life put into those outfits. So yeah, you love to see it

-Overall, a very nice Met Gala. The crazy stuff came from the usual people who go all out, and we got plenty of highlights from people who embraced the theme, with the occasional unique look to really stick it out

Thank for reading and see you all next fashion event!

[three-moving]

6, 32, 34?

ask game

6. Who's your favorite lord/protagonist?

it's gotta be claude. as much as i love edelgard and lucina and alm and celica i think it's always gonna be claude for me. he was my first favourite guy and i don't think it's possible for me to replace him.

32. What direction you wish this series would take?

i honestly have no idea! part of the appeal of fire emblem, to me, is that the story never seems to be exactly the same, despite it having the same/similar base behind it. it's always beat the Big Bad and unify the continent but they never do it exactly the same way, y'know? i don't know that i'd be able to say what direction i want to see until i've already seen it, if that makes sense.

34. Who's a character you find underrated?

i have so much love for mae from echoes. i wasn't into fe when shadows of valentia came out on the 3DS, so i'm not sure how she was received as a character back then, but i adore her. while she's fun and bright and bubbly on the surface she's also deeply protective and cares so much about improving herself. also every line she has about celica has me screaming about how gay they are. the lesbianisms are real. mae my beloved <3

thanks for asking!

[crystalelemental]

Well, that’s another week down, and hey DeNA?  What the fuck?

This started off small.  “Oh hey, Classic Giovanni can boost up Clair just fine, and Drake can summon permanent Rain?  All I need is base Erika and we can win this!”  Haha, you naive idiot.  Giovanni isn’t even 5* yet, he died to nearly everything that touched him.  It was a really, really bad go.  I kinda feel like he’s one that, without EX, might kinda suck worse than he seems.  But, through perseverance and a lot of resets, we won.  And more specifically, Clair won.  DRAGON MASTER, I TOLD YOU I WOULDN’T SCARE

After looking at the remaining three, I quickly decided absolutely not on Glacia, and went for Sidney.  I opted to try with Bugsy, who I’ve never used before, and I gotta say?  I like it.  This wasn’t super smooth or anything, but Bugsy puts in really nice work.  And so does Nanu, who remains fantastic somehow despite not having a grid, and really deserves one at this point I think.

Then...the wall.

Initially, I tried Hau/BP Surge/Rosa or MU Torchic against Phoebe.  Rosa’s EX Support wasn’t enough to seriously help Hau, so that fell through.  MU Torchic took pressure off Surge, and allowed him to hit things with Thunder Wave early.  Problem: Hau cannot handle this stage without EX.  With EX, I’m convinced he can do it, and it wouldn’t even be especially difficult.  Because you can denial the left side that way.  But he can’t take out Phoebe in one sync from full even in optimal conditions where Surge survives long enough to do that, and needs both syncs targeting her.  But then you leave the sides alive with massive AoE damage and it’s not ending well for you.

So we went to Stall.  This did not work.  BP Morty and Skyla couldn’t hack it.  There was just too much offense being thrown around.  Also they couldn’t MPR enough Potions to make it happen, which was admittedly the bigger concern, but at this point it had been well over an hour of effort for two stages to be done and I was getting crabby.  I gave up and decided to hell with it, we’re going to try Glacia.

Wikstrom, Marley, MU Farfetch’d.  High flinch rates, and a condition to improve chances further.  With Leer support, maybe we could handle it.  Maybe we could win.  Naive.  The instant Glacia woke up, it was Blizzard.  Like, every time.  And it one-shot everything.  Not just Wikstrom, like...everything.  Oh, and as an added bonus, even if I did play well enough that she didn’t get up, the sides also one-shot if they use Blizzard.  And to cap off the failure, Sentry Entry x2 means Wikstrom couldn’t take her down before sync even under the best of conditions.  Impossible.  Phoebe had solutions I wasn’t willing to employ.  But this?  Actually impossible.  Until Zinfogel does it, I don’t believe it.

So I tried stall.  BP Erika is weak to Ice, so that doesn’t work, but surely Lucy can do it!  Haha...haaaa.  Same issues as Phoebe, only worse, because AoE and Blizzard hits like a truck.  I’m also convinced you can’t actually stall this one.  It’s insane.  What is this stage?

So at this point...I gave up.  I’m convinced F2P isn’t possible on this stage.  I don’t think I had this reaction to Sinnoh at any point, but this one is actually, just completely not possible.  Glacia’s insane, and Phoebe’s ridiculous without EX Hau.  I really don’t think you can do this strictly with F2P tools.  And when I tried to do it with the minimum number of premium substitutions, it still failed really bad.  We had to bust out all the warriors for this one, and in places?  Still ridiculous.

Phoebe dropped like a sack of shit against N.  That, at least, was smooth sailing.

Glacia, however, was still really hard, even with Palentine’s Marnie and Gloria.  Why, you may ask?  Well, aside from Sentry Entry x2, Blizzard was still a one-shot.  Not just on Gloria who would be somewhat understandable, but Marnie too!  They just drop!  It’s unreal how powerful Blizzard is, it feels like an instant game over condition.  And Precision Pals means it’s never going to miss.  I...really don’t like this stage.  This is like Electric-weak Aaron; it feels like way too much.  I get that the lack of healing makes it not quite as severe, but considering your only solutions are Raihan and Thorton, and even they might just drop?  Yeah, this stage is ridiculous.

I don’t know what Wallace was like.  I didn’t even pretend to care.  I used Deoxys Speed and Lusamine to get to sync a turn early, set Psychic Terrain, and she exploded him for like 35k.  I’m done.  Whatever your gimmick was, I’m sure it was very cute, but I’m tired and really crabby after how bad the Master Fair pulls went this morning, so we’re finished.

I should honestly go back to bed...

[workinnie]

00:34:25 Natalie: I’ll tee you up. Just stick to the talking points. Use the line about how you see your Innie as your sister.

00:35:56 Natalie: …improvements in morale, a happier workplace. As with any transformative technology, there have been setbacks. Bumps in the road. But I’m here tonight to tell you that we are on the verge of a revolution. A kind and empathetic revolution that puts the human being at the center of industry…

Natalie: …decided that we could do better. He may never have seen a severance chip in his lifetime, but it represents his gentle and elegant vision made manifest.

00:33:06 Milchick: Hey, there’s stuff you don’t even know about. There’s paintball, there’s coffee cozies.

Milchick: You have two others. I can tell you about ’em. Open the door, and I’ll tell you their names.

00:30:39 Devon: I mean, Ricken knows a lot of high-end journalists in New York.

00:30:41 Mark: And you think that’s better than the police?

00:30:43 Devon: Well, Lumon has their hands in so many pies.

00:29:43 Milchick: They told me not to talk to you.

00:29:44 Cobel: The goddamn OTC’s been triggered! Mark S. is his fucking Innie!

00:29:49 Milchick: What? That’s not possible.

00:29:56 Cobel: I’ll take care of Helly. I’ll fix it like I fix everything. Get to the Security Office, and shut it off now!

00:29:52 Cobel: It’s Dylan. They’ve been plotting this all along.

00:27:46 Devon: He lost his wife. You lost your wife. A little before you started at Lumon.

00:27:52 Mark: Gemma.

00:27:55 Devon: It was a car accident, and, at first, you tried to keep teaching.

00:28:01 Mark: I was a teacher?

00:28:03 Devon: A professor. Of history. You tried to go back to teaching three weeks after she died, and it was a disaster. She was just still in your veins, you know? Making everything hurt.

00:18:55 Helly: So, one of the things you learn growing up as an Eagan is that the workers are our family. And I remember being confused about that as a kid, because I thought that meant I had a few hundred thousand literal brothers and sisters scattered around the world. Oh, my God.

But as I grew older, I learned that it’s about shared ideals. My dad used to make me recite the nine Core Principles before bed every night, which I can’t say I always did happily. Sorry, Dad.

But those are now the values that I share with everyone who works at Lumon, and that’s what makes them my family. And I would never ever ask them to do anything that I’m not willing or excited to do myself.

Look, my dad would love for me to sit here and say that I’m taking this job out of loyalty and that it was the spirit of Kier Eagan calling me to service.

But I took a severed job because it sounds freaking awesome.

So, no, I don’t think severance divides us. I think it brings us together.

00:15:44 Ricken: You had to deal with Gemma’s passing in a way that was best for you. You know, I was scrolling through old pictures this morning, and I found one of the four of us on the crest hike. You remember the funny bees?

00:09:53 Angelo: Thank you. And please thank your father if you see him.

00:01:44 Natalie: Good. We need you nimble. We gotta get down there. You’re on in 20.

00:01:48 Natalie: I was on with the Board earlier. They’re really grateful for this.

00:02:01 Gabby: My gosh. Helena, so good to finally meet you.

00:44:37 Mark: This severance thing, it… Not sure I need it anymore.

00:45:06 Cobel: Do it.

00:45:14 Cobel: Get away from them, Mark.

00:37:40 Mark: Well, I’m headed to Devon and Ricken’s.

00:37:43 Mark: They have that party tonight. Cobel: And?

00:37:45 Mark: Well, Devon asked me to double-check, see if you’re interested in coming.

00:39:44 Ricken: And it’s a 15-minute drive back, so you could still catch…

00:33:40 Cobel: Fuck her goddamn soul forever into hell! Filth and fucking fire until she fucking dies! Fuck her and her fucking fake smile. Oh, God. Fuck her goddamn soul!

00:21:23 Natalie: Helly R. attempted suicide three weeks ago.

00:21:32 Natalie: How could you not tell us?

00:21:47 Natalie: We also know that you’ve been spending time at the home of Mark Scout’s sister.

00:21:57 Natalie: It has been decided that you be suspended from your position, effective immediately. You are fired.

00:22:10 Cobel: Oh, fuck off, Natalie! Is the Board even there?

00:22:22 The Board: Yes.

00:22:36 Cobel: I can explain everything to the Board tonight, please.

00:22:44 Natalie: The Board has concluded the call.

00:15:07 Ms. Casey: “Your Outie is kind. Your Outie can set up a tent in under three minutes. Your Outie knows a beautiful rock from a plain one. Your Outie likes giving…"

Ms. Casey: Evidently Lumon’s been blessed with a new wellness director. So I’ll be retiring at the conclusion of this session, and the room is…

Milchick: You know it’s good, right? That they don’t remember each other?

00:15:34 Milchick: It means the chips work. It’s a win.

00:15:43 Cobel: Take her back down to the testing floor, please.

00:16:45 Ms. Casey: Do you know if I’m happy up there?

00:16:50 Milchick: Of course. You do all sorts of wonderful things.

00:12:01 Mark: What? Wait. When did they tell you?

00:12:07 Ms. Casey: Just now. Just a moment ago.

00:12:49 Ms. Casey: “Your Outie is kind. Your Outie has brightened people’s days by merely smiling. Your Outie makes time for people, even when…"

00:13:22 Ms. Casey: I know I vexed you. I know I’m… strange.

00:13:31 Ms. Casey: My life has been 107 hours long. Most of that has been these half-hour sessions.

00:13:39 Ms. Casey: For me, my favorite time was the eight hours I spent in your department watching Helly. It’s the longest I’ve ever been awake. I suppose it’s what you could call my good old days.

00:14:04 Mark: There must be something we can do.

00:10:44 Cobel: Yes. I’m having all department heads do it end-of-quarter. With all this stress, and Mr. Graner retiring and everything.

Kier Eagan: I knew you could do it, Helly R. Even in your darkest moments, I could see you arriving here. In refining your macrodata file, you have brought glory to this company and to me. Kier Eagan. I… I love you. But now I must away, for there are others who need me around the world. Goodbye, Helly.R, and thank you.

00:07:04 Cobel: Seth. I know that this has been a trying quarter, and you have availed yourself well. Mr. Graner sits with Kier now, and I imagine they’re both very satisfied with you.

00:47:31 Mark (voiceover): My wife was extraordinary. My wife was allergic to nutmeg. And when she sneezed, she always sneezed twice. My wife liked other people’s dogs. My wife thought cardigans looked ridiculous.

00:36:19 Burt: Hello. This is kinda strange, but…a lot of things about this job are. You all know that better than me, I’m guessing. And, of course, I don’t really know any of you, but the man standing there with you now does. He’s worked with you for nearly seven years, and I hope they’ve been good years.

00:36:46 Burt: I… I don’t know what they’ve been like, or what exactly I, or he, has been doing with you, but I do know how I feel every day when I come from being with you. I come home feeling tired but fulfilled. I feel satisfied. I must like you very much. And though today is my last day with you, I’m certain you will remain with me in spirit in some deep, yet completely unaccessible, corner of my mind.

00:37:18 Burt: The impression you’ve left on me is indelible, though I’m unaware of it on a conscious level, and…I will never forget any of you, even though sitting here right now, I have no recollection of actually ever meeting you and no idea of your names or any of your physical characteristics or even how many of you there are.

00:37:42 Burt: Anyway, I just wanna say, thank you, all.

00:37:44 Burt: And Burt, I see you. Congratulations.

00:37:50 Burt: Good job, buddy.

00:37:53 Burt: Bon voyage.

00:32:41 Natalie: Doug Graner is dead.

00:32:46 Cobel: What?

00:32:48 Natalie: The Board finds this deeply troubling. The Board wants to know if you knew he was missing and if you’ve spoken to the police.

00:32:58 Cobel: Whoever killed Mr. Graner is probably the same person who reintegrated Peter Kilmer.

00:33:07 Natalie: The Board reminds you that reintegration is not…

00:33:09 Cobel: Reintegration happened. And I have the data to prove it. And I would be happy to share my findings in person without intermediaries.

00:33:28 Natalie: The Board agrees…

00:33:33 Natalie: And will be available to meet with you at the Eagan Family Gala next week to discuss this further. Details to come.

00:33:50 Cobel: I look forward to receiving them.

Helly: Do you know where the office is?

00:28:55 Mark: Petey saw it during a fire alarm last year. He showed me.

Helly: Who’s to say there are security guards? I’ve only ever seen Graner.

00:20:43 Cobel: Severed. Why do you think Mark did it?

00:20:50 Devon: Well, it was right after he lost his wife. At first, he tried to keep teaching at the college, but he couldn’t.

00:17:57 Milchick: Hey, it’s me. Don’t know if you heard, but Graner didn’t come in. Everything’s fine, just wondering where you are.

00:17:44 Milchick: Here you go. Straight from the hills of Rwanda

00:13:49 Milchick: What happened last night is called the Overtime Contingency. It’s a safeguard we occasionally employ to remotely awaken workers off-site.

00:13:59 Milchick: It’s for emergency use only. And I didn’t consult Ms. Cobel because she’s been so stressed.

00:14:12 Milchick: He’d agreed to count to a thousand, which he then violated.

00:12:31 Burt: Mr. Milchick. Pleasure to see you, sir.

00:12:34 Burt: So early. Milchick: Please, sit.

00:12:40 Burt: The missing 7199-G. Oswald will be so delighted. I, too, am delighted.

Milchick: Oh, good. Now we can focus on the final preparations.

00:12:50 Burt: That we can. Milchick: Without interruptions.

00:13:13 Milchick: You deserve something special.

00:13:16 Burt: Not… Not a trip to the break room, I hope. Yesterday was quite enough.

00:13:25 Milchick: No. No, not that. Something else. Stay tuned.

00:05:03 Reghabi: I’ll be in touch. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll finish what Petey started, Mark.

Mark: I’m gonna throw up right now.

Reghabi: Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!

00:04:24 Reghabi: Your DNA’s in that!

00:04:07 Mark: I work with him.

00:04:08 Reghabi: No, you don’t.

00:04:11 Reghabi: He’s Doug Graner. Head of security on the severed floor.

00:01:57 Reghabi: I hate that term, “Innie.” So infantilizing.

00:02:01 Reghabi: Then again, you’ve been severed for two years, right? So your Innie really is still just a baby.

00:01:23 Reghabi: The procedure didn’t kill Petey. If he had followed my post-op instructions and not simply run away at the first sign of sickness…

00:01:29 Mark: So, you… You’re a doctor?

00:01:33 Reghabi: I put that chip in your head, and I’m still the only one who can deactivate it.

00:33:10 Graner: I got a tip from a campus cop at Ganz College.

Graner: Someone’s holed up in one of Ganz’s old lab buildings. The dean’s told security to look the other way. Probably is Reghabi.

00:27:50 Milchick: The ideographic card you took from O&D.

00:27:51 Milchick: I saw the footage of you taking it. Did you smuggle it out? Is it here?

00:27:57 Milchick: Dylan, listen. You have no idea how sensitive this information is. If someone paid you to smuggle out that card…

00:28:16 Milchick: We told you to count to a thousand and wait outside.

00:28:35 Dylan: We good here?

00:28:37 Milchick: We’re good.

00:23:27 Mark: Yeah, we tried for a little while. It wasn’t really working.

00:23:32 Mark: We talked about adopting at one point, but…I don’t know. Then you think, “Okay, this is the life you’ve been given. And, um, that’s another life, and you don’t get that one. So do something with this.”

00:22:26 Mark: Apparently, I jammed my hand at work replenishing a watercooler. Or at least that’s what they tell me.

00:19:50 Cobel (singing): Kier, chosen one, Kier.

Kier, brilliant one, Kier.

Brings the bounty to the plain Through the torment, through the rains.

Progress, knowledge Show no fear.

Kier, chosen one, Kier.

Burt: Irving, Kier would want us to feel the warm embrace of knowledge and truth. That way we could be true partners in his teachings.

00:18:46 Burt: I think, as the two department chiefs, Mark and I should make contact with this goat department, see what they know. And we can each bring one aide-de-camp.

note: google definition a military officer acting as a confidential assistant to a senior officer.

00:16:36 Irving: Is that a watering can?

00:16:40 Burt: We think it might be supplies for the executive wing upstairs.

00:16:45 Burt: Then again, last week’s output had more of an aggressive feel.

00:16:49 Elizabeth: The hatchets weren’t aggressive.

00:14:30 Irving: I’m…I’m sorry, Mark. It’s… It’s my fault… That I’ve been setting a bad example as the senior-most refiner.

00:12:28 Cobel: It’s not your job to play nursemaid to every new refiner.

00:12:33 Mark: Okay, so what is my job?

00:12:36 Cobel: Are you really asking me that?

00:12:39 Mark: Yeah. What is it we actually do here?

00:12:45 Cobel: We serve Kier, you child!

00:12:48 Cobel: And until you get that through your mildewed little brain and hit quota, MDR’s hallway privileges are hereby revoked. So get your little ass back to your desk and stay there until you’re told to move.

00:11:28 Cobel: Part-time Innies may not be as socialized and sophisticated as yourself, but they still must be held accountable for their actions.

00:15:05 Ricken: Listen, I know the last time you were in a medical facility was for Gemma.

note: interesting thing from google. Most synapses are chemical; these synapses communicate using chemical messengers. Other synapses are electrical; in these synapses, ions flow directly between cells.

00:07:42 Graner: Ran the diagnostics.

00:07:44 Cobel: And?

00:07:46 Graner: Full synaptic coupling. Petey Kilmer’s memory was reintegrated. You were right, Harmony.

00:39:35 Burt: You’re crazy. I wish I could nap. I think I sleep 15 hours a night up there.

00:39:41 Irving: It’s a character flaw.

00:39:43 Burt: It just means you’re a party guy, disco king.

00:39:45 Irving: I can’t be falling asleep, Burt.

00:39:47 Burt: Who cares? Irving: The handbook cares.

00:39:50 Irving: “No workplace shall be repurposed for slumber.”

00:39:54 Burt: I know the handbook, old man. I’m more of a first edition guy.

00:39:59 Burt: The original word of Kier: “And I shall whisper to ye dutiful through the ages. In your noblest thoughts and epiphanies shall be my voice. You are my mouth, and through ye, I will whisper on when I am 10 centuries demised.”

00:40:22 Irving: I don’t understand.

00:40:24 Burt: He doesn’t just speak to us through the handbook or the paintings. He finds other ways.

00:38:35 Irving: Is it awful to say I don’t care for that one?

00:38:40 Burt: No. Honestly, it makes me nervous too. Such a lovely vista, but I keep thinking…

00:38:49 Irving: He could slip.

00:37:30 Cobel: That’s Petey.

00:37:34 Milchick: How did you…

00:37:35 Cobel: Would you mind taking that up to diagnostics for me?

00:25:03 Graner: Kilmer wasn’t your fault, and it certainly wasn’t mine. They’ll understand.

00:25:21 Cobel: Since Petey reintegrated…

00:25:23 Graner: The Board’s never acknowledged reintegration.

00:18:35 Irving: I bet it’s a loyalty test. Remember the spicy candy?

00:16:09 Helly: They look like houses, right? That’s how houses look.

00:16:15 Helly: Well, maybe they’re on the outside and Petey found a way to get to them.

00:16:17 Mark: So why would they be on a map of the severed floor?

00:16:20 Helly: It could be a thing. You don’t know.

00:12:39 Burt: “Let not weakness live in your veins. Cherished workers, drown it inside you.”

00:12:45 Irving: “Rise up from your deathbed and sally forth, more perfect for the struggle.”

00:11:31 Burt: Felicia and I make do. I’m sure it’s easier than whatever you MDR kids get up to all day.

(note: the other departments don't know what each other does)

00:11:39 Irving: I can only imagine what it’s like when the new art comes in. I mean, you see it before anyone.

00:11:46 Irving: It’s so dumb, but I actually cried when you guys put up The Youthful Convalescence of Kier.

00:09:40 Helly: What about the voice behind the door?

00:09:42 Dylan: Crying baby, you mean?

00:09:45 Helly: No. Like, the angry, mumbly guy.

00:09:47 Mark: Guys? We’re really not supposed to talk about the break room. You know, the important thing is, you apologized correctly, and now you’re out.

00:08:35 Irving: It’s absurd we’ve never visited them before now. Kier’s whole original vision saw us all working together.

00:53:43 Cop 2 (voice): Yeah, dispatch, I got a 10-53 at a convenience store on 42nd.

“Forgive me for the harm I have caused this world. None may atone for my actions but me, and only in me shall their stain live on. I am thankful to have been caught, my fall cut short by those with wizened hands. All I can be is sorry, and that is all I am.”

00:40:29 Irving: It’s the Perpetuity Wing. It’s the Eagans. It’s the living soul of Lumon and everything she stands for, not a bingo match.

00:38:38 Irving: She hasn’t even seen the Kier part yet.

00:38:44 Irving: Gerhardt.

00:39:00 Helly: Jesus. Irving: No. Kier.

00:37:28 Irving: It’s an unnatural state for a person to have no history. History makes us someone. Gives us a context. A shape. But waking up on that table, I was shapeless. But then I learned that I work for a company that has been actively caring for mankind since 1866.

00:35:25 Kier Eagan (recording): I know that death is near upon me, because people have begun to ask what I see as my life’s great achievement. They wish to know how they should remember me as I rot. In my life, I have identified four components, which I call tempers, from which are derived every human soul. Woe. Frolic. Dread. Malice. Each man’s character is defined by the precise ratio that resides in him. I walked into the cave of my own mind, and there I tamed them. Should you tame the tempers as I did mine, then the world shall become but your appendage. It is this great and consecrated power that I hope to pass on to all of you, my children.

00:36:32 Myrtle Eagan (recording): I think that to be an Eagan, either a true Eagan or anyone working in this Lumon family, what you are is the keeper of an ethos, a compact of values that we have long held as precious, and which I do believe will one day save this world. And that ethos goes all the way back through my blood to where we all started, with Kier. When I was a girl, my father would make me whisper. Vision. Verve. Wit. Cheer. Nimbleness. Probity. Wiles.

00:28:26 Irving: Ambrose is sometimes unfairly maligned as a black sheep in the annals of the family.

00:27:09 Mark: Hey, just in case you find this relevant for some reason, the code detectors can read messages hidden inside the body as well. Also, when that happens, it’s Milchick’s job to extract the message from you. And when he asks how long ago you ingested it, I really can’t recommend honesty enough. It’s easier for you both if he knows which end to start from.

00:25:28 Cobel: Mark? 00:25:31 Cobel: What I just did was something I knew that you could handle and grow from. It was very painful for me. I hope that you’ll let it help you.

00:12:38 Helly: I did a thing. I deleted the scary numbers.

00:12:41 Mark: When?

00:12:42 Helly: Yesterday. You were gone. Mark: I was?

00:12:45 Irving: Oh, yeah. Dylan took over training in your stead to great success.

00:09:59 Mark: I lost my wife a couple years ago in a car accident. This is— It’s helping me, you know?

00:10:06 Petey: I’m sorry, Mark. Mark: No, no, no. No.

00:10:10 Petey: At work…you’d come in sometimes with red eyes. We had a joke that you had an elevator allergy. There was even a song for it. But I always wondered.

00:10:32 Petey: You carry the hurt with you. You feel it down there too. You just don’t know what it is.

00:10:42 Mark: Okay. Why don’t you grab whatever you want up in the fridge? I should be back around 6:00.

00:04:13 Petey: It’s like having two different lives suddenly stitched together. But the relativity’s fucked. So, my first day at Lumon’s as far back as my fifth birthday.

00:04:23 Petey: And with two pasts, it blurs the present too. But they said it will get better.

00:04:33 Mark: Who’s “they”?

00:04:37 Petey: “They” is a group of people that know severance is a blight on mankind. And they’re gonna do something about it.

00:07:54 Steven: But what do you say, Natalie, to the woman who became pregnant at work less than a month after her company went severed?

00:08:48 Weather Channel (voice): …continuing through the greater basin, probably into the afternoon, just as we predicted yesterday. The good news is, those clouds should dissipate somewhere over the Ganz area, leaving a clear, sunny day, for our friends in and around Kier. That said, the cold’s not letting up anywhere. And those roads are going to remain icy throughout the week and on into the weekend. So wherever you’re headed, please do commute with care.

00:00:53 Petey: Anybody live in that unit next door?

00:00:56 Mark: No, it’s just Mrs. Selvig in the other direction. The neighborhood never really filled up, so it’s nice. Quiet.

00:01:06 Petey: Fortress of solitude.

00:01:08 Irving: I still think an occasional mixer wouldn’t hurt anything. I checked, and it’s not expressly prohibited in the manual.

00:01:15 Petey: Yeah, I bet! Dude, I pressed Cobel for an all-floor mixer last quarter. She said you’ll get one when you earn it, whatever that means.

00:01:22 Mark: Cobel? Petey: I can’t imagine Dylan’s 4% on Sunset Park’s gonna help with—

00:45:23 Ms. Casey: Your Outie is generous. Your Outie is fond of music and owns many records. Your Outie is a friend to children and to the elderly and the insane. Your Outie is strong and helped someone lift a heavy object. Your Outie attends many dances and is popular among the other attendees. Your Outie likes films and owns a machine that can play them. Your Outie is splendid and can swim gracefully and well.

00:46:32 Ms. Casey: Your Outie won a game two weeks ago. Your Outie values water. A photo of your Outie with a trophy was once in a newspaper. Your Outie has no fear of muggers or knaves. Your Outie likes the sound of radar. Your Outie is skilled at kissing and lovemaking.

But a man who has tamed his tempers, who has brought them into balance with each other, finds on the other side of the struggle a holy sense of quiet. This quiet could be called peace, but I see as love. This love, truer than any other, is the promised result of your service to me. It is what I can give to you, or rather what you can attain yourself through a life of service to me. The delivery of this love is why I employ[…]originated the company for which […] perhaps why the lord of the[…] me out of matter and…upon this world…can be del…acknowledge..

One man who did not appreciate Dell’s unique gifts was Mr. Edgare Willit, who abhorred the injured above all else. He refused to believe that any amputee could be of use in a business setting and swore to the lord daily that any who he discovered in his employ would be sent to the children’s prison.

The alchemy of these concepts is tenuous but when they are finally brought together, they [imbue] the worker with the ability to engage which is a sacred skill. Service is work combined with love. Fusing them must be the primary […]my employ. A lifetime […] someday yield…

00:34:10 Irving: “Come now, children of my industry, and know the children of my blood.”

00:32:43 Mark: O&D is nice.

00:32:44 Dylan: No, they’re not. Nor do they share our values. Kier sorted the departments by virtue. Macrodats are clever and true, while O&D’s more cruelty-centered.

00:32:53 Helly: How many departments are there?

00:32:54 Dylan: Probably 30. Mark: Around five.

00:32:55 Irving: No one’s quite sure

00:32:57 Dylan: O&D tried a violent coup on the others decades ago, and that’s why they reduced them down to two. And that’s why they keep us all so far apart now.

Natalie: While, of course, getting MDR to their projected numbers by the quarterly deadline in three weeks.

00:32:07 Cobel: Yes, of course. We are quickly rekindling our yield down here with our nimble new refiner.

00:39:18 Mark: But what is it? Like, what… what are we actually workin’ on down there?

00:39:24 Petey: I don’t know. I thought without severance it would make more sense, but… They separate us from the other departments. We don’t even know how many there are. But I’ve been reintegrated for two weeks now. I’ve been mapping out the floor. I hid the original for you when I left.

00:37:17 Milchick: We’ll deduct the time you spent dozing from your Outie’s paycheck. What will be harder to fix, Irving, is my and Ms. Cobel’s trust in you.

notes: outie knows exactly how much innie is sleeping, milkchick and cobel had/have trust in innie!

00:37:25 Irving: I’m so sorry, sir. I’m just so sorry.

00:37:28 Milchick: Well, no one is hankering to throw you in the break room. We’ll do a wellness check with Ms. Casey and go from there, all right?

notes: wants to see if sleeping has revealed anything to innie?? milchick may feel bad about putting him in the break room, but could also just be his overly-genial personality. 00:27:00

WMC Activist 2: That’s what they’re lobbying for. And Jame Eagan is trying to sever kids…

Mark: I live in Baird Creek. 00:26:28 Mark: And, yes, they happen to be subsidized by the company that employs me.

00:25:55 Alexa: So, as a local, this just feels like a reasonable temperature to you?

00:25:59 Mark: Well, technically, I’m from Ganz. And you’re one to talk. Isn’t Minnesota, like, crazy cold with the lakes?

00:26:08 Alexa: Yes. Minnesota was very cold the one time I visited from my home in Montana.

00:25:04 Mark: Yeah. I’m in the archives division, sort of a corporate historian, apparently. So, a lot of sensitive material, hence the…

00:17:19 Milchick: Thank you for telling me, Mark. I actually find your reaction sweet. Though, it is puzzling you have an outburst like this for Petey, and not for, say, Carol D.

00:18:02 Milchick: I think this is a good time to remind ourselves that things like deaths happen outside of here. Not here. A life at Lumon is protected from such things. And I think a great potential response to that from all of you is gratitude.

In episode 9 when we see Irv's map, there are two names written next to two different cemetaries.

00:29:22 Cobel: You know, my mother was an atheist. She used to say that there was good news and bad news about hell. The good news is, hell is just the product of a morbid human imagination. The bad news is, whatever humans can imagine, they can usually create.

00:29:47 Mark: I don’t know what that means.

00:29:51 Cobel: A department like yours can go so good or so bad. You know what makes the difference? The people.

00:22:53 Mark: You know, few years back, I woke up on this table. In this room. And a disembodied voice asked me 19 times who I was.

00:23:07 Mark: And when I realized I couldn’t answer, I told that voice that I would find him and kill him.

00:23:16 Mark: I don’t know why I said that. I mean, I was scared too.

"The challenge for all in my employ is to infuse their daily occupation with my love in the moment as the task is actively being performed.[…] acuity required to actually enact the task, requiring a purity of mind unseen in much of the population,"

"My sworn friend Dell Hatch did not master the […] of settee cushions in a single day. Nay, he kept at the task over time, through concentration and repetition. He tamed the temper of woe in himself, allowing for his competence to flourish and expand. Such is the process of learning to infuse love into labor."

"Endow in each swing of your axe or swipe of your pen the sum of your affections, that through me they may be purified and returned."

"The challenge for all in my employ is to infuse their daily occupation with my love in the moment as the task is actively being performed.[…] acuity required to actually enact the task, requiring a purity of mind unseen in much of the population,"

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

25 - Connection

This chapters songs:

Cherry-coloured Funk; Cocteau Twins

Infrunami; Steve Lacy

Exit Music (for a film); Radiohead

- Y.L. Perspective

"I'm distraught, Y/n." Toruku comments, holding a piece of paper more textured than his fingerprints. His hand holds up his head and his eyes stare straight at the end of the paper.

I stand in front of his seated proportion, clammy hands holding each other in fear of disapproval. "Is it okay?" I ask the guy.

He looks up at me in shock I would ever ask him such a question, saying, "good?! I'm about to cry,

Y/n. We've gotta show this to someone... this will get us much farther than what we can achieve."

"Toruku, no. These are the first lyrics I've ever genuinely put my time and effort into. I'd like it if we kept these to use for the Summer's Amp Festival. That way if we find they do take us somewhere, we can begin to focus more on what achieves success for our band!" I explain to him, taking up the paper into my hands. "Please, it has deep meaning and symbolism I'm not even sure I understand myself."

Toruku rolls his eyes, stretching as for back in his chair as possible. We were in the middle of the music room on a Wednesday afternoon waiting for the arrival of our former bandmates Hikishi and Goku. "Fine, you wuss, but you know that this can take us somewhere."

I scan the paper, truly proud of myself for putting words together for what I truly felt. Not only about how looked at relationships, but the root meaning of Koshi and I; we'd never be together in the end. It sickened me to think of it, but if I brushed it off as if it wasn't real, all stress was wiped away. During writing these lyrics, I let go of that and committed to my gut emotions, letting them spill out through ink and a piece of paper from my calculus notebook.

A knock came upon the door, revealing both of the people we'd been waiting for.

"Hey, what's up?" Asks Giki, walking up to me and capturing my lyrics in a split second. When I try arguing to take them back from her, she wrestles me and hands it to Hikishi.

"Finished lyrics? Already? It's been, what, two weeks?" He began reading, focusing mainly on every word and the meaning behind it.

A couple of minutes went by with the repetition of my trying to take back the paper and Giki easily holding me back thanks to her freakishly strong arms. Every once in a while, both of them would raise their brows or whine with sorrow. Once they finished, they looked at me in disbelief.

"What? You guys are acting like I'm Jesus giving Christians the meaning of life," I say, finally retrieving what I'd been after.

I'd never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't forget her

But she could.

There were only so many ways that I was able to compose phrases that were associated with the destination of Koshi and I's relationship; might as well make an effort and achieve something favorable out of it. Carefully folding the paper and squeezing it into my pocket, I say "I'll make a couple of copies and send them out to you all after I've made revisions. If all of you are not to let anybody know that I've materialized a root song for us to work with here on forward, then I'll have the final draft by Sunday."

My partners glow in unison and clench their hands together in enthusiasm. As much as they irritated me with their impatience with me, I was more than grateful they opened their arms to my lyrics. It took a long time to put together a rough outline, so their approval meant the world to me.

Ever since we had come back from the training camp, I'd been more than enjoying myself. Every day was crammed with band rehearsals, volleyball practice, and drives home and back with my boyfriend. Everyone in my friend group had been concentrating mainly on music and mental health, the most significant things in our lives. The boys were focused on improving what they could with their stamina and gradually became a close group. Each one of them figured out ways to be around each other without any arguing (at least not too much) and learn to collaborate. The spring tournament was coming up, and competing with teams we weren't completely familiar with could be potential death for our reputation. That is why all week the boys have been accepting plenty of lessons from the guy who said he would assist us with a single match, Coach Ukai.

So far, things have been going smoothly for my band and me. We spent most of our days coming up with new rhythms and chords that could help us make a song for the Summer's Amp Festival. Being best friends with each other was to our advantage and we didn't argue head-on about stupid shit bands would. With late dinners spent talking and writing music, my life felt better than ever— especially since I had a wonderful boy who supported me through it all— Koshi.

Although he didn't admit it, I knew Koshi was struggling in volleyball. Mr. Sugawara never gave his son empathy and it seemed their family was having issues with Isao getting himself into trouble of all sorts. Life was stressful for him, so I made my best efforts to try and comfort him in all ways I could. I packed him bags of snacks with letters in them for him to find in his bag during school, helped him organize a time to help his teammates and take care of himself, and continued to be his girlfriend.

With that, I felt great about my current situation.

Excitement fulfilled my everyday life, keeping me busy.

"I should go. I have to meet Koshi before volleyball practice starts," I say, grabbing my book bag and stuffing my papers into it without any trace of thought.

-

After getting dressed and meeting Kiyoko in the field outside of the gym, we gather inside along with the rest of the team. Ukai calls for us to sit down in front of him, for he had a long talk to put us through. June 2nd was the exact date for the preliminaries to begin. Everyone had one goal in mind; to climb to the very top.

"Alright everyone, gather around please." Ukai sits on a stool in front of me and plenty of other members of the team intently waiting for his messages. "There is no regional prelim, so it's going to be straight to prefectural or nothing. Out of 60 teams or so, only one of them gets to advance to nationals. Got that?"

Tanaka and Noya nod, confident they'll soon be cheering in victory. As for Hinata, he couldn't be more impatient to go against Nekoma again. Ukai turns everyone's attention back to him, silencing those who turned to whisper.

"Before raising competition between any of the other volleyball teams you boys are so eager to defeat, we have to look at who we're going against. First, let's take a look at Wakutani South— a group skilled within the range of defense and solidarity. They're the ones we're gonna have to terminate before any other people. We should keep an eye out for Date Tech as well. Everyone knows about their popular iron wall built by tall guys who specialize in defense. In March, we were defeated by the two to nothing."

I raise my brow at Ukai's explanation. Koshi told me not too long ago that the game against Date Tech is what convinced Asahi to quit volleyball for good.

Thinking about how nervous they made our team feel made me uncomfortable.

"The only reason they aren't seated this year is that they ranked 16 in the top material after losing to Shiratorizawa. Hopefully, we won't have to go against them first round. Then there's Aoba Johsai, the team were most likely to go against. We need to watch out or else they'll get the best of us. They're near the best in the prefecture, after all. Last but not least, Shiratorizawa. Famous for their giant ace, Wakatoshi Ushijima, we should stick as a team when facing these guys. They're our best competition." As Ukai finishes off his studies of the teams, Koshi and Daichi gaze at him, happy they finally have a leader who put everyone in their place and truly cared for their future.

Unexpectedly, Takeda darted into the gym, holding a large piece of paper.  "The bracket! I have the bracket for the tournament!" The man shouts as players run towards him.

Hinata and Kageyama lean over his shoulder, along with Tsukishima and Ennoshita. Their eyes suddenly widen at the transcription. "We have to play against Date Tech?!" Hinata exclaims, taking the paper by his hands and panicking.

"Guys, we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. Aoba Johsai is seated in our block this year.. this means bad luck," Tsuki says, folding his arms. I felt anxious about the idea of having to continue to face Oikawa and Iwazumi. Knowing them, they would use their personal feelings to try and mix things up between matches.

Koshi comes up behind me, patting my back softly. He must have seen the irritated look in my eyes from far away when looking at the bracket. The competition was only a few days before Summers Amp Fest, meaning I had back go back practices at the beginning of June. It being only May, this gave me time to plan out a schedule. If I coordinated dates properly enough I wouldn't be stressed out as easily as I could be.

The rest of the practice went by rather quickly. Ukai cleared up a hand full of questions the boys were itching to ask, Kiyoko and I were able to make lists of items we would be needed whilst remaining on the sidelines of this tournament, and Eclair visited the team before the end of the night.

"Sorry, lovelies! I had to attend to some enrollment business today," she says with a hypnotic smile that stretches as far as the length between her ears. "I can't believe I can't stick around in Japan until you guys' tournament!"

Nishinoya leans towards the girl to position himself right under her nose. "Then stay longer! I don't see why you have to go back so suddenly, 'Clair."

Koshi and I simultaneously make eyes at each other. It was obvious we didn't want anything to do with the girl.

"Maybe you guys can visit me if you're ever in France. I'd love to show you all around." She says as if anyone would skip countries to spend time with her. Thank goodness it was her last day.

As she stays to discuss further with the boys, Koshi tugs at my hand, gesturing that he wanted to pull me aside for something. I walk with him to the exit of the gym where he very gently nudges me against the wall and folds his hand into mine. "Are you going to be okay? You know, with Oikawa?"

"Oh...of course. I can handle him. Why?"

"I have a bad feeling about him. I know he's a goody two shoes in school and everyone adores him and all...god knows he does no wrong...but I'm scared he might suggest ideas about you two the way he used to, you know?" Koshi speaks in a low tone for us to have privacy. the more he explained his feelings about Oikawa to me, the clearer it became that he was intimidated by Oikawa.

I understood why; we grew up together, he was there during the darkest moment of my life, and he was the talk of the town when it came to volleyball, school, and such. since Koshi and I had only been dating for a couple of weeks, he must've felt that it was easy to lose my attention. I didn't judge him for having trust issues, but I did discriminate against him for thinking he was under Oikawa when it came to who could win me over.

"trust me, you have nothing to worry about, okay? you're a much better person than he was or ever will be. I would never turn to Oikawa even if it meant happiness forever," I giggle awkwardly, striving to help Koshi feel better. I rub my hand against his cheek softly, looking down at my feet in embarrassment for behaving as a girlfriend should.

"But I do have some good news..."

Koshi tilts his chin up in wonderment of what I could surprise him with, "hm? and what would that be?"

"I've completed the song lyrics. Toruku is finishing up the rhythms and chords he wants to base the song off of. in a week or two, it should be done," I say as I politely put my hands back into my pockets. my heart beat progressively faster because of the anticipation of waiting for a response from him.

"really? can I come over tonight so we can go over them?" he asks me excitedly. "only if it's okay with you. since it's the weekend maybe we could have a sleepover and go to practice together in the morning!"

I nod and gleam at him, pleased by his reaction. yet, in this happy moment of ours, I spot a blonde making eyes at Koshi and i. eclair seemed to be all ears for a conversation she was not involved in. to make it obvious I caught her, I tilt my head in her direction and raise my brows as if asking, 'do you need something?' the girl takes notice and quickly goes back to paying attention to the pestering of Tanaka and Nishinoya.

Koshi takes notice, turning around to see what distracted me. confused, he looks back at me, brows furrowed. "while you fuss about Oikawa, I'd like to fuss about a little french girl that very obviously wants to get into your pants before her departure," I whisper in a gossip-type tone, causing my boyfriend to cringe/laugh. the both of us decide to head towards the crowd of boys discussing all types of matters, mostly about the upcoming volleyball tournament.

- K.S. Perspective

"get some good rest tonight. tomorrow, we're spending the entire day practicing." coach ukai exclaims, along with a couple of other remarks regarding the attitude coming from Hinata and Tobio.  after the volleyball team agreed to bring their best efforts the upcoming morning, we were released and ready to depart home.

I nudge y/n on her shoulder, muttering under the ruckus, "I need to help clean up a little bit. mind waiting for me with Kiyoko in the girls' locker room?"

Although asking her to walk in the dark without me made me uneasy, it made it easier for her to get a load of work off her hands. the past month she's been stressing herself over both being a good manager and a loyal bandmate. I respected y/n for her patience and determination to keep her life in order.

she nodded happily and trotted off outside the gym. when I turn back to the club members, all were occupied helping tidy up the gym. deciding to group up with the second years and mop the floors, I head towards the supply closet.

what I didn't expect was to find eclair in a corner, huddled up and silently crying. pretending I don't see her, I begin to back up towards the entrance of the room. unfortunately, she catches me just as I reopen the door.

"shit...ignore me. leaving is simply making me a little sad, is all!" she wipes away her tears and smiles. eclair proceeds towards me in the dark room and suddenly wraps her arms around my rib cage where her head could lay onto my chest. "do you mind?"

everything was happening so fast, that I couldn't begin to process the moment, but it felt wrong.

when I sensed something off, I civilly shoved her. "Uhm, what?" I stutter, stepping away from the girl.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Eclair stares at me with sad eyes for a split second before crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. "I thought it would be appropriate if I had a goodbye hug. I hope you didn't take that in the wrong way."

'maybe if you had approached me with that before moving in, I would have understood.' I thought to myself, as I automatically rolled my eyes. "oh... that makes sense. are you okay?"

it was obvious she was very much not okay, but clearing up the awkward situation felt as of it would be natural than to stand only a few inches away from her while she cited.

"well, not exactly. as you know, France isn't my type of home. I'm nervous about making new friends and stuff. I got so comfortable here, I didn't see this coming," she says to me, as she leaned against a wall and took a deep breath.

I nod my head in awareness. "yeah, moving can be hard. I'm sorry you have to leave so soon. if you have a more positive mindset, things might turn out better!" I attempt to cheer her up without seeming as if I'm too friendly.

eclair looks up at me once again and smiles, "you're so kind, Koshi. I'm gonna miss you the most, you know. it kind of sucks we didn't get to talk very much. it's my fault for making things so complicated between us, though. I never should have been stupid and confessed to you last year. I'm really sorry."

I feel distraught by the words she spoke so confidently. it didn't seem it at first glance, but her face seemed an awful lot too relaxed and her words left a bad taste in my mouth. I stayed silent and looked down at my tennis shoes, praying the conversation would be over soon. to my bad luck, she puts her hand onto my shoulder, rubbing it while she tilted her head and looked far too deep into my eyes.

"I hope you know that you're the first person who I've ever really had feelings for. there was so much I swore I would do just to be with you. knowing I'll never be able to meet my expectations of us makes me feel like I'll never be satisfied," she says sadly, yet her body language hints at another feeling. "do you ever think about that, Kou?"

nervous, I clear my throat and take yet another step back. at this point, I am almost against the wall of the room, feeling utterly irritated. "Uhm, I don't. I'm sorry, but my feelings are the same. I've never been in love with you, eclair. I don't think I ever will be, either. please, stop," I spoke with anger under my tone, trying my best to make it obvious I didn't want her.

suddenly, she takes my hand in hers and places it on the lowest part of her hip, stands on her tippy toes, and runs the other hand through my hair. at this point, I was shaking in distress, thinking of how to throw her off of me without injuring her or making myself look terrible.

We had come to a point where there was no time to think, for she pushed her waist close between my legs and tried tilting her head to kiss me. I instantly decided to push her off of me and brush off any area she had touched me as if I was contaminated. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I silently yell at her as she hides against a wall in embarrassment. "I don't know why you ever thought I'd be as low as to cheat on my girlfriend with a pathetic person like you. now, I tried to give you space and sympathy, but you've taken it way too far!"

she looks at me angrily, "Oh, shut up, Koshi! you know you're desperate for any girl you can lay your hands on. am I so wrong for believing you're still the man-whore you used to be? for being stupid and sensitive and wanting something so badly that I have such a low chance of receiving? all I've ever wanted was to be loved by you in any way possible, so don't you dare shame me when you're the exact same way! and how is it you suddenly click and realize how much of a dickhead you are and decide since you've 'fallen in love' you're such a good person?! why could it have not been someone else, huh? why couldn't it have been me?"

I hold tight fists in my hands out of anger, though I know I wouldn't dare lay a hand on her. my head filled with so many negative emotions that I could not begin to build a statement to throw at her. "because I would never fall in love with someone so sickening as you. you're a selfish brat, eclair, who throws a fit when she can't have what she wants. you're a bitch!"

deciding I'm finished with dealing with the girl, I turn the doorknob of the supply closet. "grow up, eclair. you'll never get anywhere in life if you don't grow up and stop behaving like a child. you aren't a little girl anymore," I say, as I leave the room.

a few of the teammates have their heads turned towards me, noticing the angry exterior I wore. as positive as I tried to be, it was difficult to hide the amount of wrath running through my body. I was sick to my stomach, feeling terrible about not throwing her off of me sooner, if I had known her intentions, I wouldn't have ever considered leaving y/n's side.

everything eclair had accused me of got to my head. maybe I was the horrible person I've been trying so hard not to be this entire time. maybe I wasn't worthy of being in a happy relationship or having the privilege of being loved by y/n.

maybe everybody was better off without facing me every day, aware of who I used to be.

-

it's literally been like four months:)

yes i'm also very fucking angry

ily guys

- estrxlar

[onetuffbunny]

I: Lucretia My Reflection

It's not that Lucy doesn't like spending time with her Dad with her younger siblings around because she does but one, Pru has absolutely no off button and you can only play-wrestle so much in a day before you have to do other things. Two, Avery's four. What the hell are you supposed to talk to a four year old about? Three, sometimes she just wants to hang out one on one with him. Four, and most importantly, they literally suck the life out of people.

It's not like they can help it and it's not they even know about it (well, at least Avery; her sister, meanwhile, loudly exclaims that she's a secret vampire any chance she gets but when Lucy herself was a kid, she pretended she was possessed by ghosts, so that might just be a weird ten year old thing rather than any actual knowledge on the issue) but there are some days when the only thing keeping Dad from napping all day is a really, really unhealthy amount of energy drinks. On the plus side, he's getting out bed, which is an improvement over the Bad Times, but on the downside, that's gotta be bad for your heart.

"Anyway, that's why you should always carry a compass when you leave the house. You never know when you're going to get lost in the woods when you're just trying to get back from the grocery store," Dad says.

He lines up his shot, misses completely. When she comes down, he always wants to play mini-golf at this kitschy place with black lights, and every time, he loses. She knows it's on purpose because scatterbrained as he might be, Dad does have ungodly skill at games, only rivaled by R.A. Honestly, she wishes he'd just play for real sometimes but he's not going to do that.

"We should put a microchip in you so if you get lost, they can just scan it and take you back home," Lucy replies. It's a very sensible idea, clearly.

"Woof, I guess," he says. "Hey, not to change the subject or subject you to changes, but, uh, I wanna apologize for comments of an earlier nature. You’re an adult and you’re free to make your own decisions but, like, just make sure they’re careful and safe ones, okay? But if you ever do stupid stuff, just please call me and I’m not gonna judge.”

Lucy’s determined to lose to her dad for once. Her ball goes nowhere near the hole. Success.

“I am not going to do cocaine, Dad,” she says. “I am 100% never going to do cocaine.”

"Yeah, and don’t do the other stuff either! There are at least three other drugs! Don’t do any of them. And if you’re going to smoke pot, just don’t do it a whole lot, okay? You’re an adult but your brain’s still growing, you gotta keep it in tip-top shape, and also it’s bad for your lungs, so if you’re going to get high, I dunno, eat a gummy or something in a safe environment. Also, if you ever pick up a cigarette, I am personally going to walk over to California and kick your ass. But, like, with love. Also, I know that realistically speaking, you’re gonna drink before it’s legal, like it’s almost a given, I know how you animation students are, but, like, be really careful, okay? And don’t do it much. And don’t go to wild parties underage because then someone’s gonna call the cops and then you’re gonna have to run from the cops. And don’t you ever get in a car after drinking. If you drink and drive, I’m gonna kick your ass for realsies. Drinking’s about the quickest way to fuck your entire life up, Goose.”

“We’re genuinely too busy trying to reach homework deadlines to party, Dad. It’s their way of training us for the soulless capitalistic grind that is the modern animation industry,” says Lucy and then she reaches for his hand, squeezes it. “But also I swear, I just smoke a little pot sometimes while playing games.”

He squeezes back.

“Okay. Just be smart, okay? I want you to turn out better than me. When I was your age, I did a lot of stupid shit. A lot.”

Lucy decides to squeeze back as hard as possible.

“When you were my age, you had a whole ass baby. Fucked up.”

He does not squeeze back as hard as possible because Lucy might be strong as fuck -the rare jock in a sea of nerds at school- but that might actually snap her hand bones, but her dad does give a very fuckin’ firm squeeze back before laughing and letting her go.

“Yeah, dude, I know, right? To this day, I ponder what may have become of that baby. I hope she grew up to have superpowers,” he says. “Hey, look, I know I can be kind of a killjoy sometimes but I just want you to know that I’m real proud of you, okay? You’re a groovy human being and I just think you’re neat as fu...heck. And you are killing it in college and wow, that’s great. That is really great. I used to worry a lot that you wouldn’t be able to go and like...holy shit, you got a real frcikin’ good scholarship, you’re going to be an animator, wow. So, you know, keep on being cool.”

Her dad very theatrically sniffles, possibly to cover up the fact that he is, in fact, getting genuinely a little teary there.

“An attempt will be made,” Lucy says and then nudges him lightly with her club to indicate that hey, mini-golf won’t play itself. “You ever think about going to college? You could get into something besides cutting grass. It’s not like you’re too old or anything.”

Which, incidentally, she sincerely hopes he’s not doing that anymore because even if he hasn’t confessed it, she knows he’s a vampire, but she also knows it was never his main source of income. Her dad’s firmly shut the door on ever acknowledging what he actually does for a living and Lucy sure as hell isn’t over here prying for the details.

“Not particularly interested in getting in debt the rest of my life for something I’m gonna fail, kiddo,” he says. “Took me long enough to get my GED and I don’t got the kind of background that office jobs are gonna like. Been thinking about going to beauty school though. I mean, I can style a mean wig and I think I did your hair okay.”

“Yeah, you should! I bet you’d be good at it.”

The ball accidentally goes a little too close to the hole and Lucy can see her father’s visible frustration that his shot wasn’t properly terrible.

“Anyway,” he says, “I guess I just wanna promote an environment where you can come to me about stuff without judgement because my own dad...oh boy. We still don’t talk. When your dad treats real minor stuff -not even anything real bad- like the worst shit in the world, it just makes you wanna do real major, real stupid shit and, like, then you wind up sixteen and living in a rest stop, so good job there, Dad. So, like, if you ever need to tell me anything, even if it’s something stupid you’ve done, I’m here.”

Lucy’s a pro at mini-golf and deftly knocks his ball away from the hole so they can both lose.

“Okay, Dad,” she says. “And...if you need to, you can tell me things too, okay?”

They have a pretty good time playing together, just the two of them. Lucy loses at winning, which means that her dad’s won at losing. Later, they go back home and Prudence celebrates the occasion by gifting her dad the best fireworks fifteen dollars can buy at the roadside stand.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”