#meaning that technically; as long as it's not an outlandish lie; you could get away with a lot of little lies and evasions

[thevalleyisjolly]

I love how despite the party trying to shake the secrets out of Colin, no one has made an Insight check against anything he’s said about himself yet, which means that technically, nothing he’s said actually has to be true.  It doesn’t mean it’s not, but if it wasn’t, who’s to say?

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

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Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.  

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

[jerichomere]

MBS EPISODE EIGHHHHT

weak. I hate to say it but I could feel it in my heart from the start. It had good moments but this episode just didn’t bring it home. I’m going to break this up into my usual notes and then some general evaluation. Notes: What is the deal with curtain and food? He has so many weird scenes with meals.. there’s probably some hidden meaning here but I don’t know what it is And they didn’t get to chuck-root the school :((((( Constance? Wants to pour acid on curtain’s feet Haha I liked Kate’s little “Nyoope” when the recruiters found her Martina redemption and the fighting tetherball team, sure Jackson and Jillson get even more unhinged. they terrify me We got Kate yeeting Constance up the tower, but her bucket had a built in rope motor somehow WE GOT KATIE-KAT but we didn’t get Sorry it took me so long And Milligan’s still moody instead of joyous Go Constance, break the thing, yay Number Two and Rhonda had some real shippy energy in this episode and PLEASE they are SISTERS Two more close profile shots of curtain in this episode, one where he is physically shorter than Milligan but dominating the interaction, and one where he’s physically looking down at Reynie but Reynie’s getting to him. Reynie has a heart to heart and curtain passes out. That’s different. Sticky even said, “it’s anger” and he was like “no, it’s vulnerability” oooooookay then. The whisperer is not an intercom/loudspeaker. sheesh. So the kiddos leave and the twins talk, resolving nothing, then curtain escapes REYNIE AND MISS PERUMAL NO COMPLAINTS HERE *sobs* Kate and Madge at the end <3 Constance refuses adoption!?!?!?!??! And no age reveal obviously rip Sticky’s family redemption he’s going to the totally not made up Boatwright Academy now Mr Benedict is like, I love you all, no snowball fight, the end. SIKE Curtain, SQ, and a totally real engineer lady are on a BOAT. You know, I felt bad for the engineer this whole series, as she is portrayed as kind of doing the technical work hoping it’ll be used for good, while curtain abuses its practical application, but her mood really shifted in that last scene. She was like heheh hey guy that I know is definitely is evil, howabout this mysterious blueprint... are they really trying to set up the sequel. Some tree branches will have to get pretttty bent.

Evaluation: keep reading! (sorry it gets long)

To recap what I’ve said from the start, I think the casting is fantastic but the tone is wrong. The darker, more saturated filter, the isolating camera shots, and very understated music make things colder and stilted. This is a constant throughout the whole series. The book was warm, messy, and full of charm, which I didn’t feel watching the show.

characters were.. compromised? Mr B starts off with a LIE about test winners going to Boatwright Academy. That undermines EVERYTHING he does from then on. “Regrettable but necessary” DOESN’T cut it. He’s also just so anxious and jittery instead of his gentile, kind, strong book self. Just from the show, they didn’t frame his genius very well. He seems more like a fool. Not really confidence-inspiring. In the same way, Being directed to cheat is one thing, but Reynie should NOT have lied to SQ to manipulate him into seeing the forest or whatever. Yeah reynie felt bad about it and SQ called him on it, but this is like the core values of our protagonist team, the strong love for truth. Also, I feel like in the show Reynie’s leadership isn’t highlighted. Like, everyone else has their thing but you almost wonder why he’s framed as the main character. The girls got bonding and the boys got bonding but there was hardly opportunity for him to really bring the team together into a cohesive unit Also, as much as I love Number Two’s life of crime (because it’s funny), she too should have that love of truth, but instead regularly does unlawful things. AND they never explained her eating, and even stopped having yellow clothes :( Additionally, the side story of her and Rhonda’s friction (entertaining I suppose) also really changed the character dynamic. In the book, the adult team was unwavering and wise, a sturdy basis for the perilous missions of the children. But their internal strife, while adding drama, makes them seem unreliable and less absolutely good and trustworthy. And I think trust and integrity are key parts of the book’s solid narrative. Constance’s refusal of the adoption felt wrong too. She was like, “Respectfully decline, but. I’ll stick around here.” I think they were trying to keep going with her contrariness, but it just comes across as foolish pride? Constance is a LITTLE GIRL. She DESERVES a FAMILY. SHE DESERVES A LOVING PARENT (and two wonderful sisters). Yeah family doesn’t have to be by blood OR lawful paperwork, but her actions in this scene really just. cuts off the feels at the knees. We KNOW she’s strong and independent but that doesn’t mean she HAS TO BE or even necessarily WANTS to be all the time. Over the course of the series we see her warming up to people, a kind word here, a little smile there, but this adoption refusal is.. harsh. Then we’ve got Sticky. Yes, he struggles with the comfort of the whisperer. And he overcomes it. BUT in one of the earlier episodes, they had him fighting with the team, defending the whisperer, dismissing his friends... and I count this as betrayal. It may be extreme on my part, but I think he went too far. The Society is the Society. In the book he bested his fears for them and with their support. Yeah he desperately wanted to just give in but he had PRINCIPLES and knew why he couldn’t. His honor, his responsibility to stop curtain, and his loyalty to his friends got him though. But in the show he just dumped them. And then was like, oh oops jk I’m back. (I knowwwwww the book has the privilege of being able to explain characters’ thought processes and emotional states, while shows have to work with more tangible actions and words but stilll I did not Like That) And finally, curtain wasn’t smart. He had hired people doing all the work. He just used it to his ends. Less evil genius and more manipulating creep. But this? I’m more ok with. As an villain, he got the job done. But this makes him less of a foil for Mr Benedict and more of an antagonist, if that makes sense. In the book they never knew each other, but were both alone in the world and greatly smart, and they chose verrry different paths. Whereas in the show he and B were always kind of opposites, warring in motivation and method from the start.

Let’s talk about the boss battle (such as it was). I said it was weak and I meant it. The book is heart pounding. There is so much going on, and so many people in play, the narration jumping all over the place in real time, all culminating in that clash at the top of the tower. Now, the show... the highs weren’t the highs. It felt more like checking off story points. Kate and constance outside - check. Resist the whisperer to stall for time - check. Milligan reveal - check. Reynie starting to figure out narcolepsy triggers - check. Constance shouting then you are the greatest fool of all - um, no, that didn’t happen. Constance defeating the whisperer - check. Curtain escapes - check. We got zero action. No good fights. I know Emmy Deoliveira is a kid and I’m not mad at her for not being able to do action sequences or run with Constance piggyback. But there was almost no physical conflict on-screen, and that’s Kate’s real time to shine. Also they had Number two and Rhonda in the tower ready to fight and then they just didn’t. All this build up for nothing. Furthermore, and I think this is the biggest problem, there was no momentum. Yeah they cut from scene to scene, but the music and tone cut scene-to-scene too. So there was like, dramatic music, Kate’s ready to fight! Get hyped! and then cut to absolutely silent, mr curtain staring at someone. feel mildly disturbed. and then cut to Rhonda and Number two being friends and ready to fight! Aww! And yay! Get hyped! And then cut back to Sticky sitting in a chair, dead silent. It goes on like this. The music, the urgency, should have carried throughout, building in intensity and desperation as the kids come together and curtain unravels more and more and then BAM! curtain down and OH NO! the whisperer and finally Constance’s “I... DON”T.... CARE!!!” and then the madcap escape from the island. Watching, I just couldn’t get swept away. Storywise, they tied it all up and logically it made sense but the emotional culmination just wasn’t there. It was over and done too quick. It fell flat. I didn’t feel the struggle, the suspense. And then they gave us a fabricated Mr B and Curtain conversation that didn’t really help anything. And then the falling action had some nice moments but as I mentioned, the things with constance and sticky kind of made it feel less relieving, joyful, and sweet. I know a snowball fight is elaborate to set and film but I would have loved to see it.

Final thoughts I can’t help but love the kids. I’ll say it again, I sure liked this casting. And for all the changes they had to make, the original central plot was there, and most of the characters were recognizable even with all the alterations. So I did have problems with some of that underlying integrity, as well as the overall tone and execution, but I also laughed at the little funny things, jammed to the title theme, and was excited to see this, my favorite book in the world, get more recognition. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to adapt a work of prose into an audiovisual medium, and considering how outlandish the book sometimes got, they gave it their best shot. I didn’t love it but I can recognize the accomplishment. In terms of faithful and well-made adaptations, on a scale of Percy Jackson to Harry Potter, I’d give The Mysterious Benedict Society a 6.5/10.

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 3 on AO3 ______________________

Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. ________________________

When the cast comes off his leg, Jason sighs in relief. Casts are a bitch and he can’t believe he survived four weeks walking around like a zombie.

And, well, he technically is a zombie, but still.

The nurse barely has time to set aside the now useless pieces of cast before Jason eagerly stretches his arm. He tries not to take offense in the patronizing smile the man gives him. Jason supposes he isn’t the person acting like having their arm in a cast is hell  — because it is — but he can go without the little smirk, thank you very much. He would’ve removed the damn thing on his own, except it’s his dominant arm stuck in the cursed thing and he didn’t want to risk any new injuries. It’s the first time in over a month that he has no major wounds. And that’s considering that the pit gave him a faster healing rate than your average Joe.

“There’s a crack here,” the nurse comments.

“Hm. I had to fight a criminal. They were annoying, so I hit them with my cast,” Jason says.

The nurse gives him a forced chuckle as though he thinks Jason is joking. Or, well, that Todd Peters is joking. He doesn’t need to know Jason’s real name or that he’s completely serious. He must be new. They’re not in Gotham, but they’re close enough that having to beat a random crook with a cast shouldn’t be that outlandish.

The annoying noise of the saw fills the room again and Jason does his best to stay put. While telling Dick to fuck off after their fight had been satisfying  — a silver lining after having his ass handed back to him, if you must  — letting himself fall to what could’ve been his second death wasn’t Jason’s smartest move. And definitely not worth having to drag his own broken ass home, ruin his wounded body even more as he struggled to change into civies. Never mind having to face the humiliation of seeking a public hospital and pretending he had somehow walked away from getting hit by a bus. That had been fun, but he would not recommend it.

“There you go,” the nurse says. “You’re free as a bird, Mr. Peters.”

Jason flexes his fingers in relief. As a bird. What a joke.

When he walks out of the hospital with a medical bill that will most certainly never get paid  — although it’s tempting to send it to Wayne Enterprises just to let them know Jason is alive and now ready to kick their asses again  — he remembers the second time someone told him he could be Robin.

It had been Tim.

He hadn’t thought about that night in quite a while, mostly because he couldn’t believe it really happened. It was before they freaking sent him to Arkham, but after Jason got rid of (most of) the green mist in his mind that had him foaming at the mouth with unchecked anger. Robin swooped in right in the middle of one of Jason’s busts and somehow managed to knock out as many criminals as he protected from lethal shots. After they were done, he had approached Jason and deadass asked him if he would consider being Robin again.

Just like that. Jason thought he was joking.

Then Tim Drake, in all his 14 year-old glory, his voice still cracking a bit, deadpanned: “I only took over because someone had to. But now that you’re back, it only makes sense that you go back to your family.”

Jason was so stunned he doesn’t remember what he said next. Probably something about shooting the kid if he caught him in his territory again. He’s pretty sure the little shit rolled his eyes at him before jumping off the roof. Jason had the distinct feeling that Bruce never heard about that small mishap.

For quite a while, Jason tried his hardest not to think about what he left in Gotham. It was hard when he was too injured to move, but books helped him through it, as always. Now, however, he was free as a robin and he has a decision to make: what is he going to do next?

The trip to the shitty motel he’s staying at takes no time at all, his feet getting him there while his mind was elsewhere. He’s thinking so hard of Gotham that at first he thinks he’s losing his marbles when he sees a familiar face. Jason freezes on his tracks.

Tim Drake is casually leaning against Jason’s door. He tilts his head to the side and cocks an eyebrow in challenge, as though letting him know that he is very much real and not an hallucination.

“How the fuck —” Jason starts. Then he decides against it. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Forget you found me.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “I happen to have a really good memory, though.”

“It sure doesn’t look like it, considering it seems you forgot I tried to kill you last time we saw each other.”

“You mean when you could’ve killed me, but you didn’t?”

It takes all of Jason’s flimsy self-control not to punch him. Tim stands there, his arms still crossed, his eyebrows vanishing under his too-long bangs, and it’s almost as if he’s daring Jason to hit him, to lose his cool. Doing so would be letting him win and Jason isn’t about to do that.

He has half a mind to appreciate the fact that Tim had been waiting for him in the hallway, though. Even Dick hadn’t been that considerate in the past, always favoring the good old breaking into people’s homes like Bats taught them. It annoys him to no end that the kid somehow always knows what little things will mulify Jason.

“I just wanna talk,” Tim says.

“I haven’t been active lately”

Tim doesn’t even flinch. “That’s a lie.”

“How did Dick find me?” Jason groans.

“He didn’t. I did,” still in that annoying flat voice.

“And you want me to believe he didn’t follow you?”

“I don’t think so, since I haven’t seen him in a month.”

That catches Jason’s attention. He considers the boy in front of him. Rumor has it that Tim Drake manages to be even more elusive than the rest of them, and Jason believes that.  He believes that a child that stalked Batman and Robin for so long is nothing short of impressive. He heard Tim was the only person able to lie to Batman.

Something makes him think Tim isn’t lying now.

With a sigh, he fishes the keys from his pocket and opens the door. Pretends not to see the kid’s annoyingly cocky smile.

Jason doesn’t know much about Tim other than his M.O. as Robin and parts of how he joined the Bat cult. He knows he was already a rich kid before becoming Robin, but if the kid has any reaction to Jason’s crappy hotel room, he doesn’t show.

Jason drops on the couch with a groan. Tim stands around with a blank expression and, if Jason didn’t know any better, he’d think the kid is nervous. He gestures at the empty mismatched armchair by his side, and only then does the kid take a seat. Silence stretches.

“So? You said you wanted to talk. Talk.”

It’s almost impossible to notice, but Tim takes a slow breath before starting: “When we fought… you asked me to be your Robin,” he says. “Did you mean it?”

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “What kind of question is that?”

“Did you seriously consider taking me as a sidekick?” Tim insists. “It’s a yes or no question.”

Jason sits back and crosses his arms, keeping his expression schooled into something neutral. He hadn’t thought about that night  — at least not on purpose  — since then. However, in the fleeting moments his mind forced him to relive it, he couldn’t help but think about his spur of the moment offer. Because that’s what it had been. An impulsive thought.

However…

“I meant it,” he says, his voice neutral. “In our field, it’s a pain to work alone. I know you have skills, so having you work for me would’ve been useful.”

And that’s the truth, or at least most of it. Tim presses his lips into a tight line and nods slowly, as though he’s readying himself for something.

“And you still think that?”

“What kind of game are you playing, Replacement?” Jason snaps.

“I’m not playing anything. I’m here to offer you my services, sort of.” Tim gives him a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We can go over my resume, if you want.”

Jason’s chin drops. He can’t help it. His stunned silence lasts long enough that Tim’s fake smirk slips from his face and, despite his best efforts to keep the cool facade, Jason can see he’s distraught somehow.

“You said that that would mean working for a psychopathic killer,” Jason reminds him.

“I remember distinctly saying sure, why not? to your offer, too. Also you called me worse things, you don’t get to be sensitive about name calling now.”

“Why?” Jason presses.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Tim deflects.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second.”

Jason sighs. “You suck at job interviews.”

“To be fair, I’m a trust fund baby. I’m not supposed to go through job interviews.”

Jason sighs. He doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, he is a detective. He was trained to recognize lying, to know when he’s being played with. On another, the boy in front of him isn’t your everyday crime alley crook, but an equal. Maybe superior, in some circumstances. He could have a plan inside a plan to completely fuck Jason over  — and he kind of should, considering Jason almost killed him a couple of times… and Damian… and Dick.

“What does Bat 2.0 think of you switching career paths?”

“Again, I haven’t seen him in a month.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. I haven’t kept close tabs on what’s happening in Gotham, but I know Batman and Robin are still active.”

Tim hesitates. Jason waits patiently. Finally, a little annoyance in his voice betraying his frustration, the younger boy admits:

“Dick fired me. There’s a new Robin.”

Jason snorts. “You’re fucking with me.”

Tim looks down, saying nothing.

Jason starts laughing out loud. “Oh my God, you’re shitting me right? So the Replacement has been replaced! And you decided to come to me of all people for a new job? You want us to be Evil Batman and Evil Robin to good ol’ Bitchard?”

It’s funny, if you think about it. The Robin that got killed and the Robin that got dumped, joining forces to represent failure as the holier than thou golden boy becomes the epitome of heroism. He can’t stop laughing.

Jason expects Tim to get angry. He expects Tim to lash out and tell him to fuck off, say that he knew coming here was a waste of time and storm off. The longer Jason’s mockery goes, however, the quieter the boy gets. His expression is carefully empty, although there is an unnameable storm behind his gaze. Sometimes, Tim is so similar to Bruce  — stoic, a mind like a maze, a smug little shit - Jason forgets about all the ways in which he’s Bruce’s complete opposite. Tim doesn’t do lashing out. Not usually, at least.

When Jason’s hollow laughter dies, the kid is sitting there as though nothing phases him. Not because he is a big bad bat with no emotions, but because he knows better than to show them.

The older boy breathes out slowly. “Alright, I’ll bite it. What exactly are you thinking, Pretender? Be brief and straight, I don’t have all day.”

There’s a beat. The kid is clearly trying to organize his ideas. That’s a first. Little Timmy usually has a plan from the get go.

“I want to be useful,” he says. And that’s the truest thing Tim said all day. There is something raw in his voice that grabs Jason’s attention. Something that Tim hides before Jason can name it. “You said it yourself. We can do better if we work  together. Not as Batman and Robin, of course not. Just as ourselves.”

Jason crosses his arms and starts tapping a finger to his arm. “I don’t believe you’re planning on killing anyone.”

“Good, because I’m not going to.”

“Then? You’re gonna watch while I do the dirty job? Or you think you can stop me?”

There’s a subtle quirk of Tim’s lips. Jason curses inwardly knowing the little satisfied smirk is there because Jason is negotiating. As though he already accepted this insane proposition.

“I don’t think I can stop you every time,” Tim concedes. “We can make a deal, though. With me by your side, you won’t have to resort to murder that often. You promise me you’ll only kill if there’s no other way and, in exchange, I promise you I’ll make sure your cases will be solved a lot faster.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone that just got fired,” Jason deadpans.

“I got fired a month ago.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone that’s been sitting on their ass for a month.”

“I was actually working with the League of Assassins.”

That gives Jason a pause. “I’m sorry, you were what ?”

“There was a case I couldn’t solve on my own. Dick wouldn’t help. Ra’s did.”

“And, what, after working with Ra’s freaking Al Ghul you just decided it was time for a change of scenery?”

“I mean, for starters I like you a lot more than Ra’s. Second, Ra’s kinda fired me too.”

“Again, you’re really bad at this job interview thing.”

Tim smirks. “To be fair, I took everything I needed then ruined a lot of League business before bailing on him, so…”

And then there is that. Jason can count on one hand the things he knows about Tim Drake. One, he found out the identities of Batman, Nightwing and Robin II at age nine. Two, he was a rich kid and neighbor to the Waynes and now he has no family left, just like Jason. Three, he is annoyingly perfect and it makes Jason feel like shit. Four, he is the most unpredictable little shit to ever exist.

And last but not least, he trusts Jason. Jason doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know if that makes him stupid or a genius in a way mere mortals can’t comprehend. Nonetheless, he has this unshakeable faith in Jason like no one had before. Not even Dick, who was supposed to be his brother. Jason doesn’t know what to make of it.

“So Ra’s is after your stupid ass and you want me to be your bodyguard?”

“When Ra’s comes for me, I’ll have a plan to deal with him. Whether you’re a part of it or not, that’s up to you. Don’t worry about it for now.”

He sounds like he has everything under control. Jason knows how to sound like that, too. All of the batlings do. Their entire lives they’re just playing it cool, looking dark, brooding and mysterious while inside they have no idea what’s going on nor how they’ll survive.

“Come on,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. “You worked with back up and you worked alone. You know which one is better.”

“I’m a literal crime lord,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s not the same. Having someone that knows who you are behind the mask makes all the difference in the world.”

Neither of them are addressing the elephant in the room, though. The biggest question looming over them. That’s also a bat thing. Both are aware, none speaks of it, and a taste of something unsolved is making their mouths bitter. The worst part is that they know the answer, even if it’s left unsaid, but do they really? Are they really arrogant to assume they know each other enough, that they’re smart enough to be aware of the truth?

Why did you offer to take me in?

Why do you want to join me now?

Two questions. One answer.  

“I’ll think about it,” Jason says.

Tim’s smile is blinding. He knows a backhanded yes when he hears one. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Hood.”

“Piss off before I shoot you.”

Tim snickers and stands to leave. Jason keeps listening after the door closes, after the footsteps vanish down the hallway. He can still hear the sounds of traffic down the street, maybe the indistinct chatter from the neighbors. It still feels too quiet and the egg sized apartment could as well be as big as a manor after Tim leaves.

The answer to both questions is I don’t want to be alone anymore .

[thedistantstorm]

Keep On Rising (Until the Sky Knows Your Name) 18

Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

This time: The Vanguard steps in to help one of their own.

-/

“Alright, someone needs to tell me what’s going on.”

Ikora looks across the table to Cayde. “If you paid attention,” She reminds him, before looking back at the text she’d been studying, “You would know everything that’s happening.”

“No. You know what’s going on, and it has to do with him-” He jerks a thumb at Zavala who ignores him entirely. “So what is it? Someone spill the beans.”

“There is nothing going on,” Ikora answers him, sounding fed up. She purposely does not look towards Zavala, lest she evoke some additional paranoia from their third. “Zavala has meetings to attend to, and I’m handling the reports of Vex activity near Ishtar.”

Cayde looks between them suspiciously, his faceplates forming a gaze chock full of intense scrutiny. “This has been going on for more than a week. You’ve made me cover for you twice to work on some research on nights you’re not even supposed to have the late shift, and, more than that, he took an entire day off and we’re just not gonna talk about it?!”

Zavala clears his throat. “What, exactly, do you think is going on, Cayde?”

“Ikora gave you a parenting book.”

“What?” Ikora looks positively scandalized. She certainly sounds that way as well. It’s done on purpose. The more outlandish reaction draws Cayde away from Zavala and his absolutely abysmal poker face.

The Hunter Vanguard gives Ikora his most friendly of smiles… then turns back to Zavala. “Soooo, either someone’s going to start talking, or I’m going to start asking questions.”

Zavala’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Let’s assume Ikora did, in fact, give me a book about parenting,” He begins, in a voice that’s almost disinterested. He purses his lips and shakes his head slightly. “There are plenty of lessons that could pertain to a new Titan-” Cayde holds up a finger to interject that the newest Guardians have been Hunters but Zavala continues on, “Or any Guardian, really, regardless of class.”

“So it has nothing to do with an actual child? It’s just another side project, like that knitting class?”

“Yes, Cayde.”

Cayde hums, before bursting out into a wide smiley tone. “Well, that’s some weight off my chest. Couldn’t imagine you with some rugrat. You’re too…”

“Too what, exactly?”

The Gunslinger blinks at him, more specifically the edge of anger in his voice. “Busy. Intolerant of horseplay and shenanigans. As much as you love your Titans, they’re at least big beefy children when they’re kinderguardians.”

Ikora coughs, interrupting the Titan-Hunter staring contest that ensues. “Zavala, didn’t you say you had to stop at the Bazaar before your meeting?” She murmurs casually. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Ah. Yes,” He agrees. “Thank you for reminding me.”

Zavala doesn’t spare Cayde a glance as he leaves the hall, his Ghost flitting to one of the techs and humming some instructions before disappearing from sight.

“What was that?” Ikora asks.

“What was what?” Cayde presses back, gesticulating wildly. “Something is clearly going on with him, ‘Kora. You know it as much as I do.”

“I do.” She swings her gaze in the direction of Zavala’s post then back to Cayde, imploring, “Don’t push him. He’s under a lot of stress right now.”

“I’m really tired of the two of you keeping secrets.” The Hunter looks down at his map before sighing. “I’m a part of this team too. I don’t want to do any more digging and piss him off, but I deserve to know what’s going on. I care, y’know.”

Ikora sighs. “I know you do, Cayde.”

“Then give me something here.”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“I’m not asking for all the details. I just want to know what the hell he’s actually doing. He’s not having a meeting. I’ve checked all his meeting spots.”

“Technically, he is meeting someone.”

Cayde freezes mid-gesture, tipping his hands to indicate Ikora could stand to give him something more than that.

“Cayde, don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything.”

She crosses her arms, growling, “You’re guilting me.”

“Ah, ah,” He wags a finger at her. “It’s only guilting if it’s working.”

Her gaze could melt the average person’s resolve to challenge her in seconds. Cayde is either immune or oblivious and therefore weathers her glower. “How’d you find out about the book?”

“It’s bookmarked and on the desk in his office, so I know he’s reading it.” Ikora goes to refute that, but Cayde beats her to the punch. “The bookmark is the one I gave him for the Dawning. The one he uses for special books. He’s told me he cherishes it. Zavala’s not the kind of guy to lie about that sort of thing.”

“So how do you know I gave it to him?”

“Because you’ve just told me.”

“Not in as many words,” She points out.

“No, but it’s not a difficult conclusion to come to, don’t ya think?” He studies her carefully.

She sighs. “If I tell you-” Cayde perks, “If,” Ikora stresses, “You cannot, under any circumstances tell anyone. It’s non-negotiable.”

Cayde nods, “Okay, okay, jeez. The way you’re acting, you’d think-”

Ikora looks away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He shakes his head, planting both hands on his map and leaning forward. “You’re pulling my leg.”

Her lips thin. “She’s sick.”

“How long has this-”

“A while.”

“Well, what are we gonna do to help?!” 

“Excuse me?”

Cayde rounds the table, sitting on it, facing Ikora. He can get away with it now that their leader is gone. “I mean, if this is really a thing that’s happening and not a joke, he needs help, right? So how do we handle it?”

Ikora sets down the book she’s holding open against her hip, unwinding her crossed arms. “What do you mean? He just needs space and time.”

“Yeah, and like a million other things," Cayde deadpans, pondering, "Kid’s sick. So that explains why he’s been going to the medbay and not home every night.”

“You know about that?”

“I know lots of stuff,” Cayde stresses. “You might have your Hidden, but I have scouts, too. And they report weird things to me all the time.”

“So you know.”

“Yeah. I mean, it was obvious there was some sort of tire-fire going on two weeks ago, but…”

“There was. It’s… better.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good, but like, he’s gonna need our help whether he wants it or not. And not just parenting books. Like actual favors.”

“Cayde-”

“Not ones I’m going to expect anything in return for. I owe him like a million favors.”

“I believe he stopped counting at two-hundred seventy-six,” Ikora reminds him.

“Yeah, and that was what, a decade ago?”

“Almost two now.” She fixes him with a cruel half-smile.

“I hate you.”

She laughs outright. The sound still scares the techs, but Cayde joins in without hesitation.

“No, really,” He assures her, though it couldn’t be further from the truth “You’re the worst.”

-/

Ikora is the one who seeks out Eva, but Cayde is the one who orchestrates the whole thing. Shaxx covers for them, Zavala is occupied with a ‘conference’ this time, and thus, Ikora and Cayde meet Eva in the market district, carrying an absurd amount of boxes and baggage to the Commander’s flat.

“How much stuff does a kid need?”

“I’ve brought most of it already. It’s just sitting in his office. We’re going to have to do some reorganizing,” Eva instructs them.

By that, she means they need to literally rearrange his entire living space. Ikora insists on moving his desk and files herself, mostly to prevent any issues with Cayde snooping - but most importantly to keep him from messing up the Commander’s disorganized self-organization.

Cayde is tasked with building the much smaller desk and chair, taking to it without argument and following the instructions to the letter. Eva builds a small set of shelving while Ikora moves two oversized bookshelves of poetry like they’re a tenth of their weight. The table and chairs in small dining room are replaced by the items that made up his study, transforming an open, breezy space into a cozy, but invigorating one. It wasn’t like Zavala often used the room, anyway, for how little time he spent at home.

“Someone likes space,” Ikora comments mildly from the doorway to the room being made over.

“She wants to be a pilot,” Eva says fondly, spreading a set of star-patterned sheets over a twin-sized bed frame.

“But she’s sick, you said.” Cayde looks to Ikora, confused.

“That doesn’t mean she won’t be able to do something,” Eva hums, flapping a bedspread over the top of the sheets with a snappish flick of her wrists.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“I’m sure she will,” Ikora says, silencing Cayde with a shake of her head. “How’s her therapy going?”

“Decent. She’s still not putting on enough weight.”

“Zavala mentioned that,” Ikora replies evenly. Cayde makes himself appear busy, but Ikora can tell he’s listening, even as he works to finish the little chair that matches the desk. “Her wounds are mostly healed though.”

“Almost. Her stump is still giving her trouble. They’re hoping next weekend she’ll be home.”

“Stump?” Cayde’s head tips over her shoulder. “Kid lose an arm or somethin’?”

“A leg.” Eva sighs. “She’s been so good about all of it, too”

“H-how’d he even-”

The front door opens and the two Vanguard flinch. Eva continues fluffing the pillows that go atop the bed, letting them have their moment as she sets about arranging an assortment of children’s clothes in the small dresser. Cayde finishes the final screw of the chair and heads toward the front of the flat at Ikora’s heels. 

Zavala looks confused, standing in his entryway. “What is the meaning of-”

Cayde nudges Ikora’s shoulder, standing beside her as she crosses her arms. “We’re just helping out,” The Hunter tells him, lighthearted in tone, but his optics are serious. “You’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

“This is…” He squints, almost in disbelief.

“We tried to disturb as little as we could,” Ikora tells him with a tiny smile. “I set Cayde loose on some furniture in Amanda's new room. He’s good at building things.” She rolls her eyes, adding for Zavala’s comfort, “... And Eva kept an eye on him.”

Offended, Cayde cries, “Hey! I wouldn’t take the easy way out. It’s not for me.”

“I-” He shakes his head, eyelids fluttering. Definitely disbelief. “Thank you,” He says, hoarsely.

Cayde pats the Titan’s deltoid. “Don’t get emotional on us now. You haven’t seen how good the kid’s room looks yet. She - she’s gonna love it. Save your tears for my craftsmanship.”

Zavala rolls his eyes, and Ikora smiles at him as Cayde turns and heads back to the study-turned-bedroom. “I hope you’re not mad that I told him.”

“No,” The Commander replies. “It was only a matter of time.”

“He was worried about you.”

“You’re more than I deserve. Both of you. Eva, too.”

“Enough of that.” She reaches for him in a rare show of affection. She’d never go for something as intimate as a hug, but as she squeezes his shoulders, the sentiment is the same. “You deserve all the help you need, so don’t be afraid to ask.” She releases him. “Though, I don’t know if I’d ask Cayde to babysit.” She gives him a face that suggests she’s actually babysitting him, right now.

“Oh, come on.” The Hunter Vanguard pokes his head out of the bedroom, but as he’s sitting on the floor working on furniture, he’s mostly laying on the carpet. “I’d be the coolest babysitter, and you both know it!”

The Warlock and Titan’s eyes meet. “Definitely not,” They agree, heading the bedroom to save Eva from the Exo’s antics and show Zavala their progress.

[ikemenfics]

A Kennyo Valentine

Happy valentine’s day...I had meant to write a thing for every guy...and uh...didn’t.

@daeva-agas for being Kennyo’s number one fan.

Word Count: 2481

You sat in a tiny shack in the woods, counting on your fingers.  First, you counted how long you’d been in Azuchi, then with Kennyo, eventually coming to the conclusion [It must be February now...Valentine’s Day, even].  You glanced around the empty hut that you shared with the warrior monk.

Kennyo had taken you, intending to use you to goad Nobunaga into an ambush.  Sadly, every skirmish since then had forced Kennyo to retreat, not to mention he had to shift bases more than once, always taking you along with him.  Things had taken an...interesting turn to say the least.  Kennyo had long ago removed your bonds with your vow that you wouldn’t run.  It seemed keeping a woman tied up and helpless went against Kennyo’s “demonic” sensibilities.  You kept your vow, though, although you were certain Kennyo might have broken one or two of his own.

It had started with the earnest desire to see Kennyo stop tormenting himself in his quest to be damned.  To make him stop calling himself the monster he so clearly was not.  Over time, earnestness became passion, and passion became love.  You were in love.  And you weren’t alone on it, either.  Mishaps and passionate moments and Kennyo had started to open up to the idea, even if he did still believe he was undeserving.  [Baby steps…]

You looked out the tiny window in the hut, a breeze making you shiver.  Though it was technically his shack, he was more a visitor to it now that you were the main occupant.  Again, those “demonic” sensibilities.  You had to laugh at the memory of Kennyo, face tinged in a rosy hue, explaining the impropriety of unbound men and women living together.  The warrior monk was currently too married to his revenge plan and monkhood to fully want to explore this newfound relationship the two of you had begun.

Thus, you found yourself, sitting alone, wrapped in a blanket, and wondering about Valentine’s Day.  The holiday of love.  Were you 500 years later, you would be in your kitchen making the best chocolate you could create and perform the act of the blushing hopeful presenting the treat to the special intended man in hopes that he would return your affections.  Alas, the Sengoku Era was not exactly known for its abundance of chocolate and you were no Sasuke, but even your calculations deduced that konpeito might not be the best treat idea.

[Ok, but what if…] Your mind ran off with another idea to contemplate and subsequently shoot down.  Dates weren’t exactly a thing during this era and old fashioned courtship was a foreign concept to you.  [What I wouldn’t give for Hideyoshi right now to ask relationship advice of...Not that he’d approve of this one..]

You were so lost in thought, you missed the sound of the door opening and closing.  “Considering running, after all?”  Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks reddened, and you all but jumped from your skin at the soft voice.  Kennyo gave you a wry look, telling you that his question was meant more in jest (though, if you were being completely honest, you thought Kennyo might still harbor such beliefs that you might regret being here with him.)

“N-no,” you stammered out, then took a centering breath and continued, “I was thinking about home.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  You knew it was going to have to come out, at some point.  Sasuke had said three months and you were sure you were nearing such a time.  You weren’t sure how Kennyo would take to the news that you were from the future.

“Home?  You don’t speak much of your village.  I had begun to wonder if Shingen’s outlandish claims of your celestial divinity might actually be correct,” his voice was light as he referred to the missive his Ikko Ikki had intercepted regarding movements of the two main armies in this little war ballad that you had found yourself in.    

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at the monk, “I am beginning to think there’s a theme with that one.”  You stood, realizing that Kennyo hadn’t seated himself.  Uncurling from your position left cold spots all over you, your hands rubbing on your arms as you tried to warm yourself.  It was still a bit warmer than much of the outside, save right by the fires, but being a native of the modern era spoiled you to the comforts of electric heating.

Kennyo noticed, one hand taking your wrist ever so gently as he pulled the appendage to him, the rest of you left to follow.  His free arm wrapped around you and soon you were enveloped in his embrace.  He rubbed your back, friction from his hands and the warmth of his muscular chest warming you enough to stop the shivers.  You snuggled into him, breathing in his scent.  He smelled of earth and musk.  The scent of a man who spent much time outdoors.  It was a comforting scent.

“If I have something to say of it,” Kennyo was saying, his voice adorably serious, “you won’t ever be privy to his ‘themes’.”  You giggled, you couldn’t help yourself.  You tried to cover your mouth, attempting to stop the mirth even as it tumbled from you.  He stared at you, his expression one you had long grown used to.  The one that said, “I’m not sure how it is you are so innocent and strong at the same time.”  

“Sorry,” you managed, looking up to the man, “I am still unused to a jealous you.”  His expressed move to “not funny” as chortles destroyed anymore attempts you had of controlling your zing of happiness.

He huffed, stating, “I am so glad I could provide some entertainment.”  His tone was grumpy, but even he couldn’t stay that way.  In the face of your merriment, even his scarred visage managed to melt into a smile, your laughter ceasing in a moment.  It always struck you each time you saw it.  It started with small self deprecating ghosts of curved lips, but over time, you saw the lips curve more, little bits of light breaking through Kennyo’s stormy heart.  The way his face transformed with it always had you in such awe.

The moment stretched and you began to realize that your faces were drifting towards each other.  You closed your eyes, expecting the feel of his lips at any moment.  You waited, breath held, lips parting ever so slightly in anticipation.

The moment never came.  Cold air greeted you, though, as you took notice that you were no longer held in his arms.  Opening your eyes, you noticed his were glancing off to the side.  You turned your own head, seeing that a small audience had crowded the entrance to the shack.  Various faces all seemed intent on watching the action, but had collapsed into guilty looks as their leader gazed them down.

“Excuse us, abbott,” one stepped forward, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to interrupt…” he fell quiet, probably knowing his excuse fell flat considering the small crowd that had joined in watching.

Kennyo sighed.  Though it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Kennyo had grown close, the stubborn monk was not much on PDA.  You were beginning to damn sensibilities all the way down to the bottom of the seven hells.  Kennyo was now moving towards the door, your romantic interlude now spoiled.

“We’ve received word…” the apparent leader of the voyeurs started and off Kennyo was to talk war, movements, and whatever else he discussed when he left you to talk with his men.  You pouted.  You couldn’t help yourself.  [It’s Valentine’s and I can’t even get a kiss.  Boo]

“We apologize, Princess.”  Not all the men had dispersed, a couple staying behind to apologize especially to you, it seemed.  “The abbott seems so much easier with you around.  We’re all cheering you on.”  They smiled and nodded in affirmation.  You couldn’t help but return the looks.

“It’s alright.  But next time, perhaps, maybe not watch from the actual doorway…” You shook your head, deciding to exit the shack and help tend around the camp.  It’d be a while before Kennyo returned.

You gathered wood for fires, prepared the afternoon meal with some of the other warrior monks, Hozuki even popping out to help taste test the ingredients as you worked to cut them.  Hozuki had taken to napping in your haori when Kennyo was absent and sometimes you even could forget she was there, at least, until she wanted food or pets.

You snuck her a bite of rabbit, telling the small creature, “Here.  It’s not chocolate, but happy Valentine’s, Hozuki-chan.”  The weasel took her prize, disappearing back into the pocket you had stitched into the garment just for her.

“Barentain?” You glanced up, not realizing you had been overheard.  Curious eyes looked at you, “What is Barentain?  How happy is it?”

You laughed.  Valentine’s Day was a concept introduced by the west.  To the men of Sengoku Japan, it was about as foreign as the moon.  You explained that it was a couple’s holiday.  You spoke of how gifts were exchanged, chocolates, what chocolate was, and that it was the holiday of lovers.

The men were enraptured by your explanation, heat radiating from your face the more you went on.  “We interrupted such an important holiday of the Princess!”  Dramatic overtures were shared, men who had witnessed the two of you now distraught that such an important moment had been ruined by them and on such a day as this.  

No no, they decided, this would not do and suddenly you were alone.  You blinked, unsure of what just transpired.  Hands had taken your cooking implements and you were left standing over a pot completely at a loss for words.  

[I guess this is my cue to stop working?  There are plenty manning the cooking fires.]  You made your way through the camp, unaware that those same men had elected members for a very important mission.  Some tailed you in the camp, but others…

“We must make this up to the Princess!  We will get the abbott right away…”

Soon, you were on the border of the camp.  Beyond the camp, a little ways through the brush, you knew there was a lake.  You decided to search for water chestnuts and entered the woods.  It was colder away from the camp and close to the water, small squeaks of complaint coming from your haori as your shivered anew.  

It wasn’t long before footsteps alerted you to a new presence.  You turned to see Kennyo appear from the brush.  “My men said you had left…” he started and you realized he was breathing heavily.  [Did he run here?]

“I just came to the lake.  It seemed that the camp was covered, so I thought I could forage for stores…” your voice sounded unsure and bummed.  You didn’t even realize that you had started sulking over the day’s events.  

His eyes tightened as he stepped closer, “I had thought...it doesn’t matter…” his voice matched his eyes and you wondered what he was thinking.  [He really did run here...why?]

“You had thought?” You pressed.

“I was told that after your…” he paused, his brow creasing in concentration for a moment, “Barentain had been ruined that you had left camp and the men were afraid you were upset.”  [Word travels fast] you thought, dryly.

You reached out a hand to cup his face, his own chilled fingers covering yours.  He pulled you close with his other, his eyes staring down with intense emotions that you couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“Can’t ruin something you weren’t in on…” you whispered up to him, attempting to smile to reassure the big man, “they...and you...shouldn’t worry so much.”  

He didn’t respond for a moment, your hand dropping to rest on his chest as you stared up at him.  You began to count seconds, wondering if he was just going to stand here with you in his arms like this forever or not.

He glanced around, you glancing around with him, wondering if there was something you were supposed to be finding.  Your eyes returned to find him looking at you in a quiet surrender, the proverbial white flag wavering in those midnight eyes.

Finally, he took a deep breath, “Sore ni tsuite wa nanimoshinai….” he muttered, his head moving to yours too fast for you to react accordingly.  His kiss was harsh, his teeth taking your bottom lip, turning you to jelly in a heartbeat.  He shifted, his strong arm holding your weight while the other held your head just right to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours with wild abandon.  He groaned into your mouth, a floodgate washing a wave of sheer heat the went straight to your core.  You gripped his robes, trying to keep up with the rush that had swept you away.  He pressed, forcing you to tilt backward ever so slightly, your balance now entirely in his quite sturdy arm.  You whimpered, dizziness threatening to overwhelm you.

His lips broke from yours, but he was nowhere near through with you.  Nips and kisses trailed your jawline, moving down your neck, leaving you to moan as he pressed teeth into that spot where your neck met your shoulder, delicious ripples of pleasure dancing through your system.  You knew even without seeing it that there’d be a mark left behind once he released you.

He pulled back, the both of you panting as you pressed your foreheads together.  He straightened the both of you, but made no other movements.  You were quite happy to remain that way, too, heat coiling back into the deepest parts of you until you both were ready for another move.

“Forgive me for ruining such a holiday for you,” Kennyo murmured.  You smiled, peeking up at the man.  He stared down at you looking quite penitent.  You gave a small chuckle at how adorable he was in his seriousness.

You opened your mouth, intending to tell him it wasn’t that big of a holiday, but a thought struck you.  Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, nuzzling into that juncture where his jaw met his neck, placing a delicate kiss upon his pulse.  He sighed and you shifted, your arms reaching behind him to hold his back, “I’ll take it…” you whispered, “Happy Valentine’s.”

Unbeknownst to you, your small audience from before watched from behind the bushes.  All of them bore smiles as they watched the fruits of their labor.  As quietly as they could, the retreated, pleased as their plan succeeded better than they’d hoped.

“Think he’ll be mad when he finds out we lied to get him out there?”  

[onlyinmyimagination]

Love is Blind

Jason Todd X Reader

This did not turn out how I wanted at all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe I’ll attempt a rewrite in the future but right now I am so tired of this story. I sincerely hope you guys like it more than I do. I’m so done.

Very loosely based on this prompt: “As a dating company professional, I never thought that I’d be able to match you with anyone because honestly, you’re such a terrible human being. But, in our search we found someone who fits your profile, and since you paid us to help you find a match, here is their information. God Help us.“

Also inspired by those social media au posts that float around the fandom. those are bomb af.

Genre: Romance, fluff I guess idk

Sorta social media au/celebrity au??? idk (someone tell me what kind of AU you think this is)

Warnings: Some foul language.

.

It started when Jason needed to quickly get a date to a launch party of some clothing brand by Wayne Enterprises (he never really cares for whatever new business venture Bruce Wayne busies himself with). He was supposed to glam it up with a partner at his side but he had put it off until the very last minute. His solution was to call up a reputable dating company because he simply didn’t have the time to screen the potential candidates on Tinder. And just like that, you were the dating professional assigned to him and he became your client.  

He hadn’t been the politest over the phone. He had been curt, a little aggressive, and much too particular about his preferences. Right away you knew he was trouble. But you resolved to do your best and stay professional. You had to compile his profile quickly and it was then that you found out that your newest client is a local celebrity. Hearing the name Jason Todd over the phone didn’t ring any bells at the time, but upon further research on your client you knew he’d be a challenge.

He had said he needed a date in less than a week and to his relief, you were able to meet him the next day with a potential match. Upon seeing your client in person you realized why his demands were so high. Not only is he the son of a billionaire, he’s also ridiculously good-looking and oddly intimidating. It must’ve been hard to find a suitable partner all by himself.

He had introduced himself, even though you knew very well who he was. He didn’t have as much attitude as he did over the phone, and he didn’t act as haughty as you expected him to be. With a practiced script and a customer service smile plastered on your lips, you invited him to sit at a nearby café while you reviewed the file of his potential partner with him.

He took the information with satisfaction and thanked you for your time. Unfortunately he didn’t last long with the match you found him, and you got another call from him a few weeks later. He needed another partner for an upcoming gala. And thus, the cycle continued to repeat itself, with your patience wearing thin and professionalism quickly dissipating with a few months. Before you met Jason Todd Wayne you’ve had a near perfect reputation, with an almost one hundred percent success rate with your clients. But he was ruining your reputation and it upset you tremendously.

“Jason, did you seriously ditch her last night?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What do you...” you pause to take a deep breath and calm yourself.  You continue, “You literally ditched her at a party you brought her to.”

“Yeah, but for a good reason!”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Uhhh...I can’t say. But it really was a good reason!”

You give a skeptical look. “Did you even call her afterwards? Did you even think to apologize for leaving her alone?”

“...No. I got a little sidetracked, but I’ll do it right now!”

“She doesn’t want to see you again. I doubt she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Well that’s her loss.”

“Is it really, though,” you mutter to yourself.

“She seemed more than happy with me last night.” Then he adds, “Before I left her anyway.”

“What a coincidence—she said the same thing to me. I painstakingly searched through hundreds of files for her, and this is what you do? After you messed up all those other dates, it’s been near impossible digging up more matches for you.”

“I know, I know. I’m an asshole. But I also know you’ll find me another date in time for Bruce Wayne’s next big gala.”

“Can you at least try to be nice,” you say while shaking your head and rummaging through your files. “Nicer, I mean. I’m trying to find a potential lifelong partner for you here.”

“No guarantees, cupid.”

You eye him as you press your lips into a thin line. “I found a realtor who lives less than an hour away. Her profile is similar to your past matches and she seemed like she’d be able to put up with you. Realtors tend to have a lot of patience. Very admirable.”

“That’s pretty cold of you to say.”

“At this point, the one I feel sorry for is her.”

“Brrr...chilly.”

“From all the complaints I’ve been getting, you’re not exactly the easiest to be around.”

“You’re holding up just fine.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve hung out longer than I’ve dated any of the partners you’ve set me up with. Technically you could say,” he says slowly, suggestively, “I’ve been on more dates with you than any of those matches of yours.”

“Like any of that is my fault. You get dumped after one date almost every time and I’ve got to set up a new match for you in time for your next big party.”

“Why don’t you just be my date from now on?”

“Not gonna happen. I don’t get involved with my clients.”

“A little uptight, aren’t you?”

“If you’re just going to pester me about how I do my job, then this meeting is over. I’ll see you in a week after this next one dumps you.”

“That’s ice cold.”

“We’ll see what happens in a week.” You plaster a professional smile on your face as you bid him goodbye but once you turn around you bite your lip anxiously. You didn’t want to admit his nonchalant invitation to be his date made your chest squeeze. Just the slightest interest toward you has you feeling a little too giddy even when you keep reminding yourself how much of a jerk he is. The more he flirts with you, the harder it is to stay professional. You feel awful and guilty about it, but you don’t get many chances to feel this way.  

Being a professional matchmaker left you on the sidelines as you constantly watch couples meet and fall in love. Finding love for yourself just seemed to be out of reach for you when you’re busy finding love for other people. And pursuing romance with Jason Todd is entirely out of the question. It became impossible the moment he became your client. So, you vow to keep him at a distance.

Just as you had predicted, a week passes and Jason Todd Wayne contacts you again for another meeting to discuss another partner.

You glance at the time and see that he’s twenty minutes late. You roll your eyes at this. It’s nothing new. His lack of punctuality is part of the reason his dates got so fed up with him. Bored, you scan your surroundings and see an ice cream shop next to the café. Seeing no harm in getting yourself a treat, you buy a scoop of your favorite flavor. You choose the cone over the cup to savor your treat. The purchase takes only a few minutes and you’re soon back at your meeting spot, with still no sign of Jason, of course. It’s a few more minutes later when you hear your name being called.

Pausing mid-bite, you turn to see Jason and don’t bother with a greeting. “See? What’d I tell you? It’s been a week.”

He chooses to ignore your jab and says, “Is that ice cream? You bought ice cream without me?” You’re caught off guard for a moment and you open your mouth to answer but he continues childishly, “Let me have some.” His hand is suddenly around your hand that’s holding the ice cream cone, and he’s guiding it to his mouth.

You’re fumbling over your words as he takes a bite and you finally say, “Go get your own!” You snatch your hand out of his grasp and gesture to the ice cream shop. He licks the ice cream from his lips as he looks over to the shop. That’s when you see the side of his face where a greenish-yellow bruise adorns the outer corner of his eye, just below his eyebrow.  

“What the hell? That was not there last week” you say, lifting a hand as if to touch his face. Then you realize what you’re doing and drop your hand again. “That looks bad. Did you ice it?”

“I did. But you should’ve seen it last night, it was so much worse,” he says good-humoredly but then clamps his mouth shut as if he had just revealed a secret.

“I don’t even want to know,” you remark with a shake of your head. You had heard about Jason’s mysterious bruises and wounds, but you never saw them on the visible parts of his body. Your clients on the other hand had often complained about him showing up with mysterious injuries, suspecting him of getting into brawls, fooling around with other lovers, and God knows what. You understand now why they chose to break up with him. Showing up with serious injuries and refusing to offer an explanation as to how he got them (or making some outlandish lie) would make anyone in his company uncomfortable. It’s disconcerting. But the longer you stare at his bruised face, the more you pity him. “Let’s just get you some ice cream.”

“For my face?” His fingers lightly brush over his bruise.

“I was thinking for your mouth or your stomach.”

He laughs and makes his way into the ice cream store. “What flavor should I get?” he asks as you follow him inside.

“Just get your favorite flavor,” you suggest curtly.

“But that’s boring. Predictable.”

You roll your eyes. “Then try a new flavor.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

You act annoyed to keep up a withdrawn attitude toward him. But if you didn’t know better, he seems like he’s biding his time on purpose and you can’t help but wonder why. “Please just choose something, Jason.”

He’s not fazed by your snippy attitude and asks, “You don’t want to share with me?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he examines the choices beneath the glass.

“You can share with your next date partner,” you suggest as you continue consuming your treat. He narrows his eyes at you and you hide your smile behind your ice cream.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles.

It takes an agonizingly long time with a lot of back and forth between you before he could successfully pick a flavor. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, you both end up walking around while finishing your cold treats. You discuss the next profile with him as you both stroll leisurely through a shopping center. During this time, you find Jason isn’t all that bad. The complaints about him have been mostly regarding his carelessness after all, rather than his attitude. But you hate that you find him so charming. As if his good looks didn’t make you curse him enough already.  

The next time you see Jason is after a few weeks and you’ve agreed to meet at a local bookstore. You’re not surprised to find that once again, Jason is late and nowhere to be seen. While skimming the shelves, a book catches your eye and you flip through it curiously.  

“That book isn’t very interesting.”  

You turn to the familiar voice and shut the book. “Then what do you recommend?” you ask lightly, remembering that reading is listed as one of his hobbies.

“Well, you can’t go wrong with the classics.”

“Classics? As in?” you prod with a raised brow.

“Well there’s Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters,” he says. “What kind of stories do you like? Or do you like poetry? Plays?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask so much about your interests. But you remind yourself to stay professional, so you steer the conversation to the purpose of the meeting. “We can discuss books next time. I have another client’s profile for you.”

“Still as uptight as ever. Thought you eased up a little since we last met.”

“It was...a unique occasion. I won’t let it happen again,” you say while turning away in case your face gives anything away.

“So I have to get knocked around a little for you to be nice to me?”

“I am nice to you,” you say indignantly. “I’m just trying to do my job and find suitable partners for you.”

“Alright, cupid. Then who do you have for me today?” he asks with annoyance, holding out his hand for the file. He acts almost... sulky.

You hand him a folder and he flips through it quickly. You explain, “They live almost two hours away but—”  

“Too far,” he states as he closes the folder and gives it back to you. His dismissive attitude stuns you and you look back at him with a bewildered expression. Jason had never declined the potential partners you’ve presented to him before. Then he says, “Can’t you just be my date from now on, cupid?”

You blink and take a moment to gather yourself. “I told you, I don’t get involved with my clients.”

"What do I have to do to get a date with you? Am I supposed to fire you? Even for me, that’s kind of a douche-y thing to do.”

Your breath still at this. The thought of being fired distresses you, but at the same time, Jason’s intention behind his words has your heart racing.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

“Yeah. You gotta admit we have fun together, right? And don’t say it’s because it’s your job.” He is interrupted when his phone suddenly goes off and he takes out the device as if he had just gotten an important notification. You cross your arms while waiting for his attention to return to the conversation. As he scrolls through his phone, you wonder fleetingly if he’s simply just tired of all his failed partners you’ve matched him with. “Listen, I gotta run,” he says while stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “But how about we meet again tomorrow? Are you free?” Realizing he’s ready to speed off, you stop him with a pointed finger.

“Hold it right there! You can’t just ditch our meeting today!”

“But—but it’s an emergency!” he insists.

“Then come back after!” you reply. “If you really need to talk to me then meet me in front of the library at eight tonight. That’s where I’m meeting my last client today and I should be done by then. Will you be able to come?”

“Uh, I guess I could do that.” He looks unsure as he glances at the time.

“Try, Jason. I have meetings with other clients tomorrow so unless you can wait a few more days, that’s the best I can do.”

“Okay, okay. Tonight in front of the library, got it.”

You don’t manage to get another word in as he takes his leave. This must be the infamous disappearance act where he just ups and leaves, ditching his partners. Despite being annoyed with his flaky attitude, you’re more bothered by the conversation that just transpired. Did he really want to fire you?  

Regardless of whether he fires you or you resign as his matchmaker, you aren’t even sure it would work out with Jason if you agree to a date him. You didn’t exactly approve of his attitude after all, and who’s to say the relationship would last? You wouldn’t even be able to go back to being matchmaker and client if you ended up breaking it off, and then you would have no reason to contact him again. The thought leaves you feeling strangely forlorn, so you push the thoughts away and continue your day.

Later that night you bid your last client goodbye and you loiter around the supposed meeting spot. As expected, Jason is nowhere to be seen, and you lazily sit on the cement planters in front of the library to wait for him. After thirty minutes, you toy with the idea of calling him. But you conclude that he’s just being his usual self.  

While waiting, you pass the time on your phone. You visit Jason’s Instagram profile, telling yourself the action is strictly professional and for the sake of research. You notice a post from yesterday. It’s a picture of a playbill for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He must’ve gone to see the play locally. You scroll down a bit to read the accompanying caption he wrote:  

“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Cupid, huh,” you mutter under your breath. The post has half a million likes and hundreds of comments, most of which are heart emojis. Did Gotham even have that many people in it? You don’t dwell on it too long and proceed to add the activity to his dating profile.

It’s another thirty minutes later when a noise behind you draws your attention and makes you flinch. It sounded like a thud, like something had fallen.  

“Why are you still here?” a voice asks, and you turn to face the infamous vigilante in the red helmet. “It’s late. You should be home.”

Red Hood is addressing you and it stuns you. But you’re distracted by the way he slowly staggers forward while leaning on the side of the building for support. This guy is not in the best shape.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you say unsurely as you stand. Not many people have had the opportunity to converse with Gotham’s vigilantes. Not as common an occurrence as one would think. “Am I not supposed to be here? Um, should I go?” You can’t help but dwell on his wording, the way he had phrased his words. A sudden thought creeps into the back of your mind that you didn’t want to surface, that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Heh. I’ve always thought that seriousness of yours is pretty cute.” Then he loses balance and falls forward.  

“Are you okay?!” you exclaim. Instinctively, you move forward to catch him and the next thing you know, you’re holding up half his body weight. As you help lower him to a more comfortable position on the floor you slowly register his words, and when you do, your breath stills. You had tried to push it down, keeping it at the back of your mind, but the implication is impossible to ignore. The timing is too perfect to simply be a coincidence. You nervously scan Red Hood’s appearance as you sit next to him. “Jason?” you try, not sure what answer you are hoping to hear.

He hums in response then he vaguely says, “You know me pretty well, cupid. Looks like you don’t need your eyes to see me at all.”

His words throw you off but then you’re reminded of Jason’s most recent post on his social media. If you hadn’t seen it, you probably wouldn’t have understood what he just said to you. “Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind,” you say softly and slowly, trying to recall the quote. “And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Shakespeare. Or have you been stalking me?”

“I have to keep up to date with my clients’ interests, okay?” you say to defend yourself. “I needed to update your profile.”

“Oh. Right, right.” A short chuckle escapes him but he groans right after and he clutches his side in pain. He leans his head back against the wall behind him.

“Are you okay?” you ask in panic, completely forgetting he came to you barely standing. Your hands hover just over his wounded body, wanting to help but unsure how to. You don’t care that you’re losing your cool in front of him. Professionalism be damned. It’s impossible to control the turmoil of emotions flowing through you, especially the guilt. All this time, you had criticized his awful habits and nonchalant behavior. Now everything about him is suddenly clicking into place.  

“You should be going to the hospital or something with these injuries,” you say while eyeing the blood seeping from his side. You notice cuts all over his body and even the helmet is cracked. “Why did you come here when you’re this hurt?”

“Well I said I’d come, so here I am.” His tone is light-hearted despite the heaves of his chest as he struggles to intake air.

“You’re already super late anyway, idiot,” you snap back, though you can feel tears pricking your eyes. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I was about to leave.”

“Kinda relieved you didn’t.”

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until our next meeting?” you demand. You figure the sooner you get the reason out of him, the sooner you can get him some help.

“Come on, don’t be mad. It makes it harder to say if you’re mad at me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and say in a controlled tone, “I’m not mad.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” he says before taking a deep breath. “I just didn’t want you to find me another date. I needed to tell you...God, this is going to sound so sappy but to hell with it. I don’t want any more matches, or profiles, or whatever. I’m in love with you. I don’t want to see anyone else. Look, I know you’re wary of me but give me a chance. Even Cupid was able to fall in love, right?”

For a moment you’re speechless but you organize your thoughts and say, “I consider Cupid’s love story more tragic than romantic. He really shouldn’t be a source of inspiration... or object of affection.”

“You’re totally missing the point of my speech.”

“You’re the one who likened me to Cupid,” you reply, trying to keep your emotions under control.

“Oh, so we’re just going to ignore my heartfelt confession, then.” He moves to sit up straighter and groans while doing so. You reach out to help support him but he grabs your hand instead. “I’m serious about you, really. Give me a chance. I promise I’ll be more honest. I’ll try harder to be on time. I’ll keep our dates. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Okay, okay!” you hastily answer out of nervousness. “But how am I supposed to date you if you’re dying right in front of me?!”

“This is nothing. I just need to make a call, and everything will be fine. Easy-peasy.” He groans again as he leans back. He continues to grip your hand, clutching it to his chest. “But more importantly, now that we’re officially dating, can I publicly announce it?”

“You should be making this call of yours the priority right now,” you say while desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping across your face.

He sighs dramatically. “Can’t you let me savor this moment a little while longer?”

“Well excuse me for worrying! If you weren’t bleeding out, I would let you savor this moment however long you wanted.”

“I can’t help it if I want to celebrate. I’ve finally caught Cupid, after all.”

You study his expressionless helmet. "What would you have done if I still said no?” you ask curiously.

“Remember how I said I didn’t want to be an ass and fire you? Well I would probably try to get you to quit instead. Then ask you out.”

An incredulous expression crosses your face and you ask, “Get me to quit? How?”

“Oh, probably a little bullying here and there. Just me being more of a jerk than I already am,” he says while using one hand to slide his helmet off. You’re glad to see his familiar face after staring at his mask for so long.

“Wow, that is just as bad,” you remark, your voice laced with humor. “That’s an equally terrible thing to do.”  

“Doesn’t matter now, cupid. I don’t have to do any of that stuff anymore.” He grips your hand again and tugs you closer, making you lean over him slightly as a result.

“Yeah, because you made me a promise,” you quip, attempting to maintain your composure despite how close you are to him.

"Indeed, I did,” he says in agreement, his voice dropping lower and making your legs weak. He tilts his head and his lips ghost just over yours. “So now I can be cupid’s match.”

Your lips stretch into a smile. “Then, as of now, I officially resign as your matchmaker.”

.

.

.

[howtohero]

We recently ran a survey where we polled various superheroes to discover what they thought the worst parts of their jobs were and proud to finally be able to share our findings with you! (We would’ve had them sooner but somebody decided to take a two week nap under a bridge in schenectady {for the hundredth time, I was mugged and unconscious! Thanks for looking for me by the way!} Thanks getting back here in a timely manner!):

2% of superheroes said that the worst part of their job was the giant gelatin monsters, because they get goop everywhere and everything sticky. 11% said prank calls to their superhero hotline. “Uh… hi, I’d like to report a crime? Yeah it’s… uh… what was it again? Oh yeah! Uh, I’d like to a report a crime and it’s your outfit hahaha get new clothes you trash bag!” 15% said it was the constant pain that they are in because they made a deal with the devil and their soul is constantly on fire but that it is a burden they gladly bear if it means that mankind can be safe for even just one more day. (Dramaaaaaatic.) 27.5% said it was having their memories or friends erased or altered due to time travel shenanigans. 54.5% said supervillains.

Unfortunately, all of those people were wrong and that was a waste of everybody’s time. {Are you kidding me? I spent two weeks in a coma for this!} The worst part of being a superhero is obviously…

#200 Supervillain Teams

{That’s basically what the majority of those people said!} No it’s different!

A single supervillain is plenty dangerous on their own (most of the time) they’re only limited by their own imaginations and their access to resources. (In today’s economy and privacy obsessed cultural climate, you actually need a lot of money to steal a lot of money. It’s kind of like how you need experience in your field before you can get a good job in your field.) So when a bunch of villains put their heads together and pool their cash. Hooboy. Then you’re in trouble. In most universes, the villain to hero ratio favors the villains. This is due to a number of factors. Most people are selfish and when given extraordinary abilities, they will choose to use to benefit themselves as the expense of others. Being a villain is honestly way more fun than being a superhero, especially if like you making your own hours and pontificating in front of large crowds. Also, most villains will kill heroes but most heroes won’t kill villains. So if all of your enemies team up, or if everybody’s enemies team up, you’re going to be in trouble.

Villains are a competitive and dramatic lot, so when a bunch of them sit down for a brainstorming sess, things are definitely going to get out of hand really fast. They’re all going to keep upping the evil ante, as I will now demonstrate for you.

(Scene 1 Act 1: Int. dungeon of some sort. There are skulls everywhere, there’s an actual demon chained to the wall, he’s very sassy and does not want to be there. In the center of the room there is a table, skull-shaped of course, There are several hooded and masked figures sitting at the table. The room smells of sweat and snake venom.)

Al “Da Boss” Marconi: I have called you all here today to finally put an end to those terrible, disgusting, super fools, that keep foiling our schemes.

Assorted villains: Huzzah!

Smuggles: I say we steal all of the dinosaur skeletons from the Museum of Natural History!

Tim the Fabulous Soul Muncher: Let’s replace them with live dinosaurs!

Professor Brain Scrambler: Let’s shoot the entire building with a de-evolution ray and turn everybody there into dinosaurs!!!!!!!!!!!!

The demon chained to the wall: Uh, that’s not how evolution works. Are you dumb? Don’t worry, we won’t judge. Just let us know if you are? You seem like a real moron to me. But what do I know, I’m just an immortal being who personally tortured some of history’s greatest minds.

(And then the demon chained to the wall was the first guinea pig for Professor Brain Scrambler’s de-evolution ray. End scene.)

And that’s just when I decided to end that conversation! Real supervillain meetings go on for way longer and you end up with a plot to turn the Earth into a giant dinosaur that can then be used to eat other planets. <Hey guys quick question and I swear it’s not a big deal. But why wasn’t I at that supervillain meeting. I mean I am the only supervillain you guys personally know. Like if I were writing about, I don’t know, a meeting of the scrawny blogger club, I would definitely put you guys in it. So what gives?> Not now Brainwave. <I mean if you needed a mad scientist, I’m a mad scientist. Did you know Professor Brain Scrambler isn’t even a real professor, he’s just wearing a real professor’s skin. Which I’m pretty sure doesn’t make you an accredited teacher but whatever. Like I said, it’s not really a big deal.>

Whenever you can you need to exercise your influence to try to prevent supervillains from teaming up in the first place. Whenever you’re fighting a villain, make sure not to mention anybody else that you’re fighting. Make them think they’re the only villain in your life. If they don’t know that other villains are out there, they can’t team up with them. Also, supervillains are very jealous and possessive. So if they hear you’re fighting somebody else on the side they’re going to get very upset and seek out the other villain and tell them that you’re a dirty two-timing superhero and then they’ll definitely team up to push your car into a river or something. I’d suggest keeping supervillains isolated from each other when they’re incarcerated as well. If you keep them with regular criminals, at worst they recruit a few new henchmen, but if you keep them locked up with other super villains you’re going to have a Legion of Really Really Mean People situation on your hands. However, this often is not feasible. There are only so many prisons out there that are equipped to hold superpowered criminals. But there are a few! More than one! Which gives us some room to play around here. You should try to work with other superheroes and these prison wardens to group villains together in the same prison that you think would never get along long enough to scheme together. For example, you could probably lock up Dr. Brainwave and Professor Brain Scrambler in the same jail without running into any issues. Because they hate each other. They hate each other so much. Also, police, superheroes, whomever, if you’re looking for wanted criminal Frederick Kaminsky aka Dr. Brainwave, he’s here. He’s in our basement and he won’t leave. I don’t know if that technically makes the rest of us hostages, I’m not like a lawyer [it doesn’t] but please come and pick him up. <Awww you mentioned me, that’s all I wanted. Thanks man!> Seriously, somebody come arrest him.

If you’ve colossally messed up and allowed a vast supervillain conspiracy team up to happen right under your noses then you need to get all hands on deck. Call every superhero you know. Even the the ones you hate. Even the ones who were dead last time you checked, they might be back now. Like I said, you’re already outnumbered so you need to call literally everybody you can think of here. Every noble-hearted magical creature and monster, every sympathetic quasi-deity, aliens that you’ve made alliances with over the years, heck even the members of that book club we had you join. Everybody needs to be on their A-game for this. If not, the villains could well succeed in wiping you all out and taking over the world. And we can’t give them that kind of satisfaction.

Once you’ve got your super army assembled, you need to begin a war on two fronts. Split your group into two teams. One team to actually go and fight the bad guys wherever they might crop up to perform evil deeds. It is unlikely that every villain is going to go everywhere at once, they’ll probably split up and pull off crazy evil schemes. So if you’re part of that team, be prepared for anything. I mean anything. 50-foot tall evil pants. (If your enemies are anything like mine, they have a wicked sense of humor. Trying getting the pants to tell a lie of some sort. I’m willing to bet that it’s rigged to burst into flames if it does. Nobody commits to a bit like a supervillain.) The ground turning into acid beneath your feet. (Pack a jetpack.) A dude with a blackhole in his chest. (Bring a really big cork). Anything.

The other group needs to start a whispering campaign to destabilize this villain alliance. Any team up between supervillains is relatively flimsy and a short term arrangement at best. As soon as the superheroes are all done away with, the villains are going to begin fighting amongst themselves for dominance. So if you can get that process started earlier, before all of the heroes are killed off or turned into monkey jesters, you could cause the alliance to collapse in on itself. You and your allies should start calling up your nemeses (don’t pretend you guys haven’t exchanged contact info at some point. I saw them at your last birthday party!) and ask them what the plan is long term. Ask them if they really want to share power with all these other villains, especially since they’re all highly likely to betray them. If you get enough villains antsy about the whole thing you can cause the entire thing to collapse and then you and your super friend can round up the injured and confused villains following the inevitable civil war.

Of course, not every supervillain team is the result of a large supervillain alliance. Some supervillains simply start out as a team, possibly because none of them on their own are really a threat. These villains have no independent resources to pool so even if they’ve got outlandish ideas, they’re pretty manageable. Here’s a list of a few other types of supervillain teams:

Gangs turned supervillains: These guys were a group of criminals before they got their powers. Unlike other villain teams, they don’t have their eyes set on world domination or the mass extinction of supervillains.

Mirror Universe Counterparts: These guys are just like your superhero team, but from another dimension and evil. To get an idea of what this might look like, take a magic marker to your team picture and draw goatees on everyone.

Cults: Cults are a lot like a regular supervillain organization. The leader is usually the only true supervillain, while the rest of the followers are just henchmen with creepy hoods.

Evil armies: As we’ve mentioned, some countries are unfortunately, led by supervillains. Meaning their armies are technically supervillain armies.

Villain families: This is just a regular family who bond by dropping spider-bombs into preschools or blowing up dams. It’s actually kind of sweet. You know what they say, a family who slays together, stays together.

Hopefully you now have everything you need to combat any supervillain teams that might rise up during your superhero career. Remember, supervillain teams need to be handled and dismantled as quickly as possible. So… heh… I guess don’t waste too much time reading this extra long post. Read this before the supervillains team up! Or have a speed reader read it and summarize! Any way good luck!

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Do you read works people gift to you?

I print them out and eat them xD

I’d like to preface this answer by saying first and foremost that I used to work (not fun, i HATED it) in the film industry doing a LOT of jobs, and one of those was doing script coverage. For those unfamiliar with the term, script coverage is where they give you a pile of all these fucking scripts they’re either deciding to buy the rights to, have bought the rights to, or need an abstract written to help them decide whether or not to pursue it to the point of making a film themselves, or releasing their license for someone else to purchase it. One page translates to one minute of screen time, yeah? Do the math there, and most features will be 90-150+ pages.

And that’s where my job came in: having to sit for hours forced to read a lot of shit i didn’t want to (and i was the book-nerd at the library who LOVED new stuff right? i’ve read somewhere around 10,000 books since high school and i read very fast too) so this was something akin to torture for me. I have read a lot of shit. Shit i’m really really glad will never make it to the big screen. Shit that made no sense. Shit that triggered me up and down. Shit in genres not up my alley in the first place. Shit that will never get made because of the abstracts I wrote having to tell the studio how shit it was, in professional-ese. It was a few months in beverly hills of doing that before my ass quit.

So while i really appreciate the shit out of the intentions, and goddamn am i grateful and flattered as fuck someone might want to gift me something, unless you know me, like really intimately (maybe only 5 people on this site i’d say, and they know who they are), it’s something very hard for me to accept and the ensuing anxiety over trying not to be an ungrateful bastard or be mean at all just because its not up my alley, and the pressure to hopefully not discourage someone (and i NEVER want to discourage someone, i really really want people to have fun doing what they do!) just really makes gift fic an unpleasant experience for me.

It’s like… it’s different from fanart. Fanart you see the thing and BOOM. You know its for you or not. And even if its not, you can usually pretty easily complement the color scheme or technical skill or find something about it to be nice and gracious over.

The written word is not like this. Sometimes you’ll begin to read a thing and know right away it is not for you, and you need to get out of there. I take it one step further in my judgmentalness: if the grammar is really bad, i won’t read it. If the visual structure (no paragraph breaks, for example) isn’t proper, i won’t read it. If they keep misspelling the same word or someone’s name, it drives me nuts to the point of not reading further. If things start taking a turn I don’t like, or gets too wordy or too descriptive (OR lacks such), i won’t read it. More to the point, if the general subject matter is not up my alley, i wont read it. If the portrayal of the characters isn’t something i like, or squicks me, i wont read it. I have a list as long as the day of dealbreakers for myself. 

I mean i think we can just sum this up to why some people will read certain authors and some won’t, right? We can all understand our own unique tastes.

When I’m gifted a fic, I feel like i am back in that old-ass chair with a pile of scripts dreading what is to come. I have no choice. It’s a gift, and the nature of a gift is you must be gracious even if you don’t like it. I think that’s asking a LOT of someone who didn’t ask for the thing. Especially if it’s a longer fic, or lord forbid multi-chaptered. It’s like, i didn’t sign up for this ride, please don’t make me ride this ride, i want off. It’s nothing on the person who wrote the thing, and everything on me. I am picky. I have a lot of deal breakers. And I don’t like to lie. I really really don’t like to lie. And forcing my hand with something like that and telling someone false things and also having to have that in my brain for however long it takes to read it? Instant panic attack. It’s one of my triggers, and i know it is.

A coworker last year asked me to do script coverage for him because i lived in japan for 4 years, and his script was focused on some japanese stuff… and was so goddamn outlandish like i didn’t know what to say to him. It put me in a position i didn’t want to be in. How to be nice and still be friends, but also delicate about his art? It’s not a good place to put someone. I had a lot of panic attacks before I had to tell him I WILL ONLY TRANSLATE YOUR JAPANESE FOR YOU I DONT HAVE TIME TO READ THIS. And we haven’t spoken about it since.

Art is subjective, yes, but I would say writing is far more subjective. It’s not a visual medium. It’s a lot more about technical skill. And then you get into the story content and choice of words there. Unless you’re one of those 5 people I mentioned earlier, anon, chances are you don’t know my precise triggers and my very specific tastes as to what i’ll read. What I write and what I read aren’t necessarily related.

I see gift fic kind of as someone telling you to come over and watch a movie. You don’t get to choose the movie. The person who had you come over does, and they’re really excited about it only for you to find out its something you do NOT want to sit and waste part of your life with… but this is someone you wanna be nice to but god the suffering… i think we’ve all had some sort of experience like that. But dial it up a notch or three and toss in panic disorder and you have me.

I don’t like to be forced to have to read something i didn’t actively search out myself. It’s part of the reason i REALLY hate people asking me to ‘look over’ their fics for them. I am of course extremely flattered, but im a hack writer and my word isn’t better than anyone else’s, and i know there are beta readers out there who actively like to do the thing. But i have neither the time nor inclination to read something i didn’t pick myself. Like someone buying you clothes. They might know your size but then the style could not be to your liking, or maybe the size and style is just fine but the material is scratchy and rubs you the wrong way. It’s probably better off not buying someone clothes, yeah?

I think i’ve been pretty thorough explaining myself and my background with the whole idea and my thought process as to why i don’t necessarily like gift fic, anon. When it happens, i’ll usually click it, but it puts me in a fucking horrid situation i will do anything to get out of. I’ve had people do it in the past in order to try and get my ‘attention’ and manipulate me to promote them (and then i stopped writing for about 9 years) and i’ve already stated i’ll promote anyone who needs it, but just the whole idea behind gift fic rubs me the wrong way. And because of my severe anxiety and not wanting to possibly be misunderstood on the topic, you’ve gotten an epic written back about the hows and whys and the history behind me hating unsolicted fic recs… gift fic is kind of in the same category for me.

You can dedicate shit to me left and right if i’ve inspired you, that’s really bitchin and i’m glad! Just… don’t force me to have to read it, or put me in a position where you’re like “Hey i gifted this go read it. Did you read it? What did you think?” That is my LITERAL nightmare. Aside from very-real time constraints as i am a bartender and dont have all the free tie in the world, I’ve really gotta put my mental health as my main priority. I’m really really sorry if this hurts anyone’s feelings :( That’s clearly not my intent by the massive text wall i’ve written, but i just want to be fully understood that its not coming out of a place of unkindness, but more of mental self-preservation and aversion to situations which have triggered panic attacks in the past.

I hope i’ve been clear somewhat D: