#anyway i'm going to bed now <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[seafoamsol]

Place your trust in my sovereignty.

[thegempage]

i've almost certainly posted about this before and almost certainly will again, but there's a special kind of humor in looking over at chat while i'm clipping a stream and wondering "wait, i was home for this stream, where am i?" only to look over later and see my past self going "hey so i just woke up from a nap"

[silverskye13]

Greedy Bird

Quick little speed doodle while watching Grian play Decked Out 2 in the background.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Valentine's Day! (and this blog's first post anniversary!)

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[dailyfigures]

hi guys :3 i got a second job and the training period is kicking my ass so i'll sadly be less active for a little while. sorry about that but as always the queue will go on!

[goodold-fashioned-killerqueen]

my wrist still hurt but i won't let that stop me from drawing them

(jk i draw this few days ago and i will take some breaks after i done my assignment btw, my hand started to just lock itself when i hold pencil now, and I'm not even hit my 20s, letting you know 👍)

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 29 <3

Suna x public sex

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,8 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Last day

"You can't-"

Your legs press together, his cock now tightly squeezed between your thighs. You see yourself in the mirror, clad only in the lingerie that he chose for you. A black and white compilation of lace, one that reminds you of his old high school uniform that he often gives you to sleep in.

"But I'm doing it right now, aren't I, doll?" His hands wander from your hips to your sides, rubbing the exposed skin until you feel warm all over.

"We're in public-" you weakly protest, already succumbing into the way he's touching you so gently. Suna knows how to push your buttons; he knows how to get you all worked up for him.

"You just need to keep quiet. Can you do that for me? Keep those pretty little noises inside?" His lips touch the back of your neck, and you see his eyes attentively watching you in the mirror, gauging every single one of your reactions. He can read you like a book, not needing any encouragement, but knowing exactly what you want just from analyzing your body language. "Can you?" He repeats when you don't respond, and you softly nod as an answer, not trusting your voice to come out steadily. "Good. Such a good doll for me. You look so sexy in that lingerie." His hand comes to the flimsy pair of panties that barely hide your pussy, his fingers tugging playfully on the material until you feel it stretching over your clit. "Rin, no- it's gonna rip-" you lowly protest, laying your hand over his to stop him from pulling harder, even though you want nothing more but to feel more of that friction. Or at least feel something that will help to ease the ache between your legs.

"It's not worth buying then," he dryly comments, but stops tugging and you let out a low shriek when the material snaps back on your skin. His cock rubs between your legs when he lazily thrusts his hips, your thighs pressing together even harder at the sudden friction on your clit.

"Rin-" you while, your hands pressing harder against the mirror when you push your ass against him. "Shh. I though you can stay quiet for me." He raises an eyebrow in a teasing manner- and under other circumstances you would have swatted his hands away and pouted until he kisses you to make up for it.

"It's kind of hard to stay quiet when your cock is between my legs." His hips thrust once again, a deep, strained breath leaving his lips at your words. You know that he loves it when you're vocal like this. "Oh, doll, that's not even close to what I will do to you. You should know better." His hand comes up to your chest, his fingers tracing the lacey pattern of the bra while his gaze roams over your body, no hurry in his movements and actions. You know that he doesn't really care about the fact that there could be other people in the shop, hell, there even could be people in the dressing room next to you and he wouldn't care. An assistant could come up to you any second, banning you from ever entering the shop again, if she knew what you're both doing on there, but you know that Suna won't stop until you're both satisfied, no matter what happens.

"Pull them down for me. Slowly." He whispers in your ear, pulling his hips back until his cock no longer pushes between you legs and his chin rests on your shoulder. Your heartbeat speeds up and you hesitantly reach for the dark material, being fully convinced that there is a stain on it already. You hook your thumbs into the hem of the panties, keeping eye-contact with Suna through the mirror while you slowly pull them down your thighs and let them fall down to the ground. You know that you're wet already, eager for him to touch you more, but he keeps one hand on your side while the other plays with your tit, his gaze fixated on your exposed cunt. "Hm, look at you. Even prettier without them on." He compliments while his thumb firmly rubs your nipple, eliciting a small moan out of you.

You arch your back into him, your eyes half-closed while you watch his hand caressing your body and softly holding you. "Can you- Rin, please, fuck me," you whisper, doing your best to keep your voice down, and he smiles at your attempt to lower your voice. "Can't deny my pretty doll face anything when she begs for my cock like that." He softly kisses your cheek before his hand moves to his cock, pumping himself slowly and spreading his precum all along his length. "Can't wait to feel you around me." He groans, two of his fingers pinching your nipples at his words, and you let out a moan- so loud that you wearily glance towards the curtain on your back, but much to your relief, no one comes to kick you out.

"You want me to prep you, doll?" His cock halts at your entrance, the tip barely dipping into your wetness, and you know your knees would give up if he wasn't pressing you so hardly against the mirror. "Just put it in. Rin, please fuck me," you beg, still trying to keep your voice as low as you can, and he groans and slowly pushes his tip inside. "So wet for me. Wet from having my cock rubbing between your legs. Such a dirty slut for me." His voice right next to your ear does something for you, and you let out another low whimper, just a tad bit louder this time. He tenses at the sound, pausing his movements when his cock is only half inside. "Gimme a hand here." He suddenly grabs your hand from the mirror, and you yelp when your face is pressed against the cool glass, your breaths making it foggy and harder for you to see his pretty face. You feel his tongue around your fingers though, licking a long stripe along two of them before he presses the digits against your lips.

"I want you to suck on these fingers while I fuck you. Pretend it's my cock. Make them nice and wet for me, doll." He rasps against your ear, and you desperately pant and clench around the tip of his cock when you slowly bring the fingers inside your mouth. You taste his saliva on your tongue, making sure to make a show of how you swirl your tongue around them before you put them into your mouth and he lets out a low groan when he sees how you suck eagerly on your fingers. You feel his chest heave against your back, his hand on your hip tightening his grip for a second before he abruptly pushes further inside of you until he's fully sheathed inside. Your walls flutter around him, you feel so warm and wet and welcome around him, and he finds himself pausing for a moment, enjoying how you clench and writhe in front of him while you suck on your fingers. Such a lewd sight- only for him.

He doesn't waste any time before he pulls his hips back and quickly pushes them forward again, making sure to hold your body steady to go deeper. Your breath is erratic, just like your heartbeat, your pussy throbbing for him, aching to have him fuck you, to have him touch you more-

"Don't worry, doll, I'll fuck you how you like it. I know what my little cumbucket needs," he hisses through gritted teeth and then he finally starts fucking you. His thrusts are slower than usual, for no doubt his measly attempt to keep quiet, even though you know for sure that the sound of skin slapping against skin can be heard in the next cabins. They are more powerful and harder than usual, his grayish eyes carefully observing your reactions until he sees how your face contorts in bliss. That's when he keeps angling his hips in the same way, knowing that he found your sensitive spot, and he will make sure to reach it every single time that he thrusts inside of you. You feel the heat coiling in your stomach when he fucks you just right, just how you need it. You're being used like a sex toy- and you love every single second of it.

You stiffen in front of him, feeling the warm glass against your cheek when he hits the same spot again and again, and you know that it will not take much more to make you cum. You whine against your fingers, slightly biting down to muffle your moans, and you feel how your legs tense even more when you're close, so close to reach your high-

"C'mon, doll face. Cum for me, and then I will fill you up. You like that, don't ya? Being full of my cum, walking home with my cum dripping down your legs." There is a need in his voice that makes you go feral, and you meet his thrusts with your hips, knowing fully well that you can't hold back much longer. His hands grab your hips tighter, and you gasp for air when you feel him so deep inside you-

Your thighs clench together when you suddenly reach your high, a particularly strong thrust sending you over the edge easily. You whine around the fingers, trying to stay as quiet as you can, but you can barely focus on staying quiet when you feel him tense too, his arms grabbing you almost painfully hard at this point when he cums, the hot liquid filling you up and painting your walls white. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, of being so deliciously full of him while you both remain motionless, just your ragged breaths escaping you while he holds your limp body up.

You know that he would usually praise you and massage your stiff limbs- he doesn't seem like it, but Suna is definitely a master at aftercare- but now he simply kisses your bare shoulder, only a few quiet words reaching your ears, like "love" and "pretty". You shiver in his arms, your mind slowly getting clearer, and you notice that you have drooled quite a lot around your fingers- much to your embarrassment, but a mischievous glint in Suna's eyes tells you that he definitely enjoys seeing you like this. You hesitantly pull your fingers out of your mouth, your jaw slightly aching from being kept so widely opened for so long.

Suna slowly pulls his softened cock out, not caring much about the thick droplet of cum that drips down your thighs and onto the new panties, much to your horror. His lips curl into a smile when he sees your reaction, and he leans down to reach for them and he soon holds them up with a triumphant huff.

"C'mon, doll. Get dressed while I buy the set..."

He suddenly slaps your bare ass, and you shriek as the sound echoes through- probably through the whole shop. "Rin!"

"...and then we can go home. I want to rip it off for real this time."

[slowestlap]

Post-FP2 interview with F1TV | Abu Dhabi GP, 2023

Int: We saw you quite keen at one point to get out of the pit lane and try to squeeze through Max: They have to move. I mean, they're all driving slow and I want to go out because we're all limited on time. They just keep on driving in the middle and when I try to pass they try to squeeze me in the wall, so. Yeah, bit silly.

[gotchibam]

WAH thank you sm for the help & support so far!!! ;_; I wasn't really expecting much help right away so I was surprised but thank you!! It helped a lot esp. w/ the loans I've had to pay ;;

I still have a lot of stuff to catch up on so I hope you guys can be patient w/ me 🙏I've opened patreon as a way to earn & also as motivation to finish my backlog. Tbh it's still overwhelming when I think about the backlog of work I have to do (it's a lot...) but hopefully I'll get things done eventually. For now I'm working on the preview for my patreon promo post so have this very messy & illegible wip for now:

My page is now live here if anyone would like to check it out :)

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Gantober #4 - Seafoam

(Wind Waker, Ganondorf & Beedle, non-graphic violence)

Tearing himself off a broken seal, Ganondorf discovers his homeland disfigured by an endless sea —and a stranger calling it home willing to help.

(Full disclosure: I'm flying off the seat of me poorly remembering my decade-old Wind Waker walkthrough and details gleaned back on vague research I did over a year ago, so I do apologize for any dubiously canon choices made here)

---

Ganondorf had waged wars larger than the sky. He had crushed skulls under his boot as an afterthought. He had basked in roaring infernos, found comfort in the musk of old blood. Even his own torment, either while sealed beyond reality or when his body had twisted to unnatural shapes from his restless abuse of Power, he had grown to rely upon as something expected —and therefore, under his control.

But there he stood, stranded on a mere constellation of sand in the middle of the night, staring on and on at the black sea surrounding him from all sides.

And nothing seemed to stomp his rising horror.

Salt. He didn’t mind salt, usually. Here, it was dizzying. A wound in the earth. A wound where Hyrule —his Hyrule— used to be. Water had swallowed all of it. In the darkest depths of the sea, there lied his castle, his hard-earned victories, the villages he sacked and those erected in their place by the monsters serving him. He may have broken the seal forced upon him, but his entire life slumbered down the abyss. For how long did he drift, outside of time and space? There was nothing left but salt. Angry froth surrounding him from all sides. The Goddesses did not care for what they once called holy. What was there even to yearn for anymore, beyond wreckage and mud?

The infernos had all drowned. Even he was now drenched and cold; his ageless bones incapable of resisting neither the waves or the rain.

He did not notice the boat that beached nearby until it was too late, and it took its sailor two attempts to finally catch his attention.

“All good sir?”

Ganondorf tore his eyes from the shore. The man who screamed at him from the deck was a stickbug of a hylian, with a horrendous bowl cut and a drooping pink nose. His sunkissed, freckled skin shivered under the tremors of a coming storm, but still: he smiled, with concern. “Not to assume nothin’, but it’s a sad old place to be shipwrecked if you ask me!”

Hands on hips, face open, eager to help. Obviously clueless as to who he was.

Nobody had stared at Ganondorf that way in hundreds of years.

He considered killing the straggler and taking his embarkation for himself. Faster, easier. But of all the many skills the gerudo king had perfected during his unnaturally long life, sailing had never even crossed his mind as something worth his attention. And the thought of trying to keep this poorly wielded rotting wood afloat in a storm, hands coarse with ropes he couldn’t make sense of above miles upon miles of this terrible salt water that wanted him back in the dark... A sharp pang of hatred seared down his throat. The Goddesses must be finding his predicament oh so hilarious.

The stranger, named Beedle, made what room he could for him on his bark; but said bark was tiny, and Ganondorf could only fit against the wall of the inner cabin, stuck between crates of food and heaps of arrows. A ceiling lamp swung above his head followed by a swarm of eager moths, threatening to set his forehead on fire. The hylian’s sunny disposition dimmed somewhat after Ganondorf’s pointed silence and lack of outward thanks for all this effort, but he still refused to let it die entirely and carried the conversation for them both.

“Hoping my humble abode can be a welcome shelter for the time being, my good sir.” Good sir. Ganondorf bit his tongue not to emote. “Please don’t be shy around my wares as well! If something catches your eye, I’m sure we can agree to somethin’ or another!” The hylian’s eye nicked at his jewelry, barely attempting to be subtle. “It’s rare to see folks as fancy as you in these parts. It’s the pirates, you see. I suppose it’s them who gave you trouble?”

Ganondorf evaded the too-intense gaze of the merchant. Of course, in this sparse flooded world, information would be as precious as rupees. He elected to be as greedy as he could in this particular department.

“I simply… got lost,” he muttered.

His voice was rough, ancient, looming. He didn’t sound like the way he remembered. The small hylian tensed and nodded, with a frown deep enough to suggest he was growing less worried about his guest and more about himself. Thunder crashed outside. A large wave rolled under the planks at their feet; the boat croaked, almost organically. Ganondorf shivered.

“Welp. Happens to the best of us I guess!” The owner scratched his bare stomach, his best efforts at joy dipping into nervousness. “Where are you going then? I can drop you off to any place that’s on my usual route!”

Ganondorf clenched his jaw. He had no good answer to this question. He didn’t know anything about this strange new world. Didn’t recognize anything. Where were they, right now? Above which landmark he could still perfectly recall in his mind, lively and luscious, sprawling under the indulgent sun of Hyrule?

“I… I don’t…”

He caught himself, this disgusting vulnerability in that shredded voice, before it could spill out fully. Anger smothered him instead; then something more painful, akin to the jagged cuts of weapons somehow lodged even deeper than flesh. He thought of gutting the pleasant man, right here and now. Take him apart limb from limb among all these goods and produce Ganondorf had never seen before. But the storm raged outside —and to be stuck there, in this claustrophobic cabin, waiting to be toppled over and drowned once again…

“Y-You know what?” Beedle proposed, hands joined, helpful in a way that neared pity. “I can take you to Windfall Island! It’s the biggest port around, and I’m sure you’ll find someone there who can help you out. You seem a little…” He swallowed. “A little... out of it, sir.”

His skin crawled. That idiot would strand him on an island full of hylians, chipper and knowledgeable and unbearably alive.

“No,” Ganondorf grunted. “Take me… Take me somewhere quiet, and near. Someplace with solid land.”

The hylian cocked his head.

“I’m not quite sure about that plan, sir. There’s a Fortress close-by, sir, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The waters are full of pirates. It’s not safe here! They’d capture you in a heartbeat, and oh!” The poor little man deflated, rubbing his bare arms, as if to ward off his own imagination. “They’d have ways to make you spill where the rest of your fancy gold is hidden, sir!”

Ganondorf couldn’t help his snickering. His right hand burned quietly under the full length of his sleeves. “A fortress, you say?”

“Horrible place! Dreadful place! They’ve stolen from me before, the vultures!”

“Take me there.”

Beedle’s eyes and mouth drew the shape of three perfect circles.

“Sir!” He squealed, red with offense. “No amount of rupee in the world could convince me to go there! I’ll never risk my wares, my very life…”

“Where I come from, merchants know to take risks when it matters,” Ganondorf said. And that much was true. Gerudo merchants had saved his kingdom countless times over before he was old enough to wield a sword himself. Not all of them returned home alive.

“And why on earth would it matter to me?!” Beedle crossed his arms, outraged. “They’ll shot my poor boat on sight! So whatever you could offer me in exchange…”

“You’re assuming I will let you refuse.”

Silence, if not for the roar of the sea.

The hylian’s eyes were large and misty, his knees threatening to give. “Sir…” He wailed, crumbling on himself, even tinier than before. “I rescued you.”

“And I am not ungrateful,” Ganondorf smiled. “Yet.”

¤

The merchant sniffled and muttered under his breath the entire way, but it didn’t take much more than a few hours for Ganondorf to see the silhouette of a large structure overtaking the stormy horizon. Beedle tried not to cry as he slalomed through the coves and razor-sharp stones, knowing himself watched, both by his guest and the pirates outside surely well aware of their presence. Ganondorf considered telling him they would be safe from cannon fire no matter what, but decided to keep his magical prowess undisclosed for as long as he could. He simply didn’t know enough about the rules of this new world to fashion a reputation for himself yet. Dreadful outcasts with a penchant for knives and thievery, however? A consequence-less trying ground.

An anchor, in so many ways.

They weren’t prevented from boarding the pier, but were awaited right outside. The vicious wind swashed buckets of sea water over a collection of armed silhouettes, staring at the humble bark with open distrust and slight bafflement. Ganondorf eyed over each of them. About twenty, that he could see. All of them with pointy ears, safe for the two gorons in the back. Brown hair, blonde hair, white hair.

All of them men.

Ganondorf refused to give room to the childish hope within withering into something cold and empty, and advanced towards the line. Beedle made a whimpering sound behind him.

“That’s close enough I’d say.”

A man cut through the pirates and stepped forth. The bulky kind, bald-headed and scarred, with one golden tooth sharpened far past what most would think reasonable. He towered over his crew, but barely reached Ganondorf’s shoulder. He nodded towards the cowering merchant behind his back.

“Must have given that lad his weight in rupees to convince him to sail here. We have history, don’t we Beedle?”

The crew laughed, and the poor hylian was but half a breath from sobbing openly.

“I hear you’re the terror of the sea,” Ganondorf noted.

The man puffed his chest. “Aye we are. So what made you think it was a good idea to come check for yourself? Want to donate to the cause?” Every pirate openly eyed at the large jewels adorning his fine robes. Gerudo craftsmanship had always stirred outsiders’ imagination, even back when cultural context hadn’t been completely lost to the waves.

Ganondorf crossed his arms. “I suppose it depends on the cause.”

The pirate chief laughed, a bit too loud to be believable as effortless contempt. His stance was ever-slightly defensive. Ganondorf was being seized up, and correctly identified as a threat.

“Our cause?! Get richer than the lost kingdom through other people’s honest work! I didn’t think it would need clarification!” Another step closer, one that felt like bravado. The man held up an open palm that missed half a finger. “So how are you willing to contribute?”

Ganondorf didn’t bother moving. He stared deep into the washed-out green eyes of the pathetically wet hylian in front of him. Small threats. Threats of no ambition. This was all the Goddesses could handle, and not a single thing worse: mediocre hylians, content with their lackluster lot, fearlessly cruel in the pettiest of ways.

He shook his head, giving the surroundings a good look instead of paying the captain undeserved attention. Crows cackled above their head, and bigger birds seems to nest in the cliffs. Hard to navigate, tall and angry, strong against the storm, unpleasant to be around.

Suitable.

“I quite enjoy this island,” Ganondorf declared at last. “As for you, terror of the sea… You can all stay here and serve my cause, or you can take your leave right away.”

Some man in the back thought it was a joke and laughed; but the humor died down soon enough. Exclamations bubbled through the assembled crew like a fit of bad coughs, growing in intensity. Beedle hid his face in his hands, terrified, and muttered a prayer.

“What did you say?!” The captain belched out. “Are you out of your mind—who the hell do you think you are?!”

A younger version of himself would have used the opportunity to brag, just to feel the kick of his own resolve; a promise muttered back to himself. But Ganondorf was far past reassurance now.

“Or you can all watch each other die if you prefer,” Ganondorf added, with the familiar coldness that preceded his worst slaughters.

That was too much for the poor merchant. Abandoning all reason, the little hylian skedaddled back to his boat with a high pitch sound of distress. Smart move. The pirates were all focused on the actual danger, and Ganondorf would have disliked letting a survivor bear witness to the worst of what he could do. Now was not the time. And, after all, he had no reason to be ungrateful and needlessly destructive. Not everything had to end up in blood, he supposed. Violence was a lesson he’d have to unlearn soon if we was to re-adapt to this new, brutal reality.

But as of now…

“We’ll knock some sense back into you, old man!” the man spat out—old man? Ganondorf wasn’t sure he appreciated being perceived as frail and weary; those feelings were supposed to be private. But the captain didn’t seem to realize his overstep and unsheathed a crude saber to his face. “Everyone with me!”

They all attacked at once, swords drawn and eager.

Ganondorf grinned. Twin blades slotted into his waiting hands.

That simple joy, of all joys dead and gone, the Goddesses had yet to take from him.

¤

The slaughter was over before it started. The pirates were even worse off than he feared. None of them would have survived the wars he had waged centuries prior. In this barren world of salt and greedy water, plunderers were weak and arrogant, and lonely travelers trusted so easily. The deluge didn’t even select the worthiest to carry on this accursed future.

Leaning from the highest balcony he could find, Ganondorf stared at a much quieter sea. Dawn brushed over the crests of wave in pinks and golds and green. Seagulls, crows and even angrier birds screamed their delight in the fierce offshore wind. Far in the distance, he could distinguish the shape of Beedle’s bark, fast escaping the trail of blood left behind. Ganondorf was taken by a vague need to acknowledge what this man had done for him, this thankless mercy drenched in unfair retribution. Do something just, perhaps. Sort the stolen goods and restore what once belonged to him. Make his effort worth something... but already, so soon, the little dot tipped over the foam and disappeared from view entirely.

The waves covered its tracks, and Ganondorf was alone.

He closed his eyes, allowing the sun to trick him into unguarded longing. But that couldn’t last. He couldn’t afford rest. He couldn’t afford peace. This was how the Goddesses had lured everyone else into accepting this; the smallness of letting oneself drift; an existence happily unmoored. That wasteland. That living wound they all called home.

Ganondorf turned away from the horizon, the sun, the wind, runaway boats with small cargo and far greater fears. The Triforce of Power scorched his blood-splattered hand. Ganondorf focused on the pain until it devoured everything else; and then, only then, could he start to think with regained dignity about the arduous path to triumph.

[copia]

he is such a man who squirts cream directly into his mouth

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

i hate doing laundry ough it's The Worst

[boyfridged]

You may have already mentioned this in some of your other metas, and I just missed it, so please ignore this if it's redundant.

Do you think Bruce is projecting onto Jason by pushing him as a Robin? Obviously, Jason wanted to be Robin and was excited about it, and Bruce let Jason do other things, but (if I'm not mistaken) before Tim came into play, solidifying the whole Batman needs a Robin/support to keep him upright, Bruce and Dick becoming Batman and Robin, in the beginning, was also sort of a coping mechanism.

I think there are a few examples of Bruce enabling this kind of mindset. Like in Gotham Knights #43–44 (sorry), every time Barbara brings up Jason's inner turmoil, Bruce refocuses on his ability as a Robin; similarly, when Jason finds out about Two-Face and his dad, he is hurt, and Bruce acknowledges that but then does the same thing, zeroing in on reassuring Jason that he made a mistake but is still a good Robin.

Like, Jason got it from Bruce, but he unintentionally encouraged that kind of thinking.

oh, i definitely think that bruce is projecting on jason and that it profoundly affected jay. and, while every single one of your observations is apt, i would add that what truly made it so tragic is that he projected his own worst traits on jason while being blind to the fact that jay already shared his best qualities.

tldr: bruce projects himself on jason in terms of grief (saying that jason needs vigilantism to work his grief through) and sees his own worst traits in jason (anger) but doesn't see his own best traits in jay (compassion, love, and sensitivity). ironically, jason does end up developing all of the (projected) worst characteristics of bruce (obsessiveness, and relentlessness in pursuit of the respective perceived idea of justice). this happens even though they were barely present in his early storylines, and only ever manifested when jason was scared or lost. later, they truly came to be because of his trauma relating to vigilantism.

and the long, long version, coming with panels and quotes: under the cut.

first i want to say that the following analysis focuses very specifically on bruce's mistakes, but i don't view the overall of jay's upbringing by bruce solely in these terms. from text it is also clear that bruce deeply loves and cares about jay, and that jay enjoys being robin. now that this is clear, let's get to particularities, and start with jay's origin story.

i truly never stop thinking about the significance of bruce meeting jay in the crime alley, the place of his parents' death. there's a lot to be said about it, but here the focus is, of course, on the fact that he sees a little boy, very much similar to himself, angry and hurt, in the same scenery that brought him so much grief. and jay in some ways does appear to be a mirror of bruce's own agonies, as well as a mirror of his own inclination for seeking justice; and somehow, bruce fixates on the first one, while almost completely dismissing the latter.

bruce looks at him and assumes that the remedy to jason's pain and anger is being robin; and he doesn't stop to think about it. (it has to be noted that there's also classism at play, classism that is mostly a result of writers' own beliefs – collins did state in a couple of interviews that that the motivation behind jason's background was to make his introduction into vigilantism seem less offensive, as jason has already been exposed to crime...)

i think, in this context, it's interesting to look at the two-face storyline even closer, and from the start too. in the beginning, bruce talks of jason's 'street' roots and assumes jay would go "down the same criminal road that took his father [willis] to an early death." he also talks of jason making a lot of progress. later, in batman #411, after jason learns that willis has been killed by two-face, bruce comments that jay "has never been like this...listless...almost pouting--"

this all, along with jay's cheerful and diligent behaviour from the previous issue builds an interesting picture for us: because we essentially learn that jay has been overall an unproblematic child. bruce, of course, attributes this "progress" to the training. however, for anyone else, the logical conclusion would be that jay's quick adjustment was simply a matter of finding himself in a safe and stable environment and receiving continuous support and attention from a parental figure. i find it rather questionable that jason's personality softened down because he had something to punch in the cave–– the more intuitive explanation is of course that he was angry and quick to fight when they first met because he couldn't afford anything else and because he was scared. but months later, in a loving home, he can allow himself to drop his guard; and his cocky attitude disappears until much later.

so the rather unsettling picture that we derive is that bruce is training jay to become a vigilante in order to "channel" his (nonvisible at this point) anger into something useful and just. and he clearly links this to his own trauma in batman #416 (that’s already starlin btw), in his conversation with dick, explaining why he took jay in: “he’s so full of anger and frustration… he reminds me of myself, just after my parents were killed.” bruce also mentions that soon after their first meeting, jason helped him and "handled himself well" in the fight, but he doesn't mention that jay has ran away from a crime "school" and intended to stop injustice on his own only because he was ignored.

the theme of bruce comparing jay to himself appears again in detective comics #574 (barr), where it is approached with a much more... critical look, thanks to leslie's presence and her skepticism of bruce's actions. after jason has suffered nearly fatal injuries at the hand of the mad hatter, bruce reminisces on his own trauma and motives. he tells leslie: "i didn't choose jason for my work. he was chosen by it...as i was chosen." leslie replies: "stop that! (...) you do this for yourself... you're still that little boy (...)" then, the conversation steers to the familiar ground and the topic of anger. in bruce's words, again: “i wanted to give jason an outlet for his rage…wanted him to expunge his anger and get on with his life…” and finishes "and instead, i may have killed him."

the recognition that bruce's projection on jason and involving him with his work might have fatal consequences is, as always, fast forgotten once jay wakes up and proclaims that he wants to continue his work as robin.

but to circle back, i think there's something else worth our attention, something deeply ironic, that is showcased in that issue: that bruce has no evidence for jay's "rage." when leslie talks of bruce's past, she recalls his tendencies to get into brutal fights at perceived injustice as early as in school; when bruce talks of jason, two pictures that are juxtaposed, are that of jason fighting as robin and jason... smiling, playing baseball.

so, in the early days of jason's training and work in the field, we see bruce talking of jason's anger a lot; but we barely see it.

that being said, jay is angry sometimes– and i think your observation about how bruce deals with it is incredibly interesting and accurate.

we first see jay truly and devastatingly angry in the two-face storyline. bruce focuses on jay's reaction as robin, which is, in fact, aggressive. but something that he barely addresses is that jason's first reaction is sleeping all day, and not beating anyone to a pulp; in fact, this vengeful instinct seems to arise only when he is put right in front of two-face. and his third instinct, once the rage (very quickly) dies down after the altercation with two-face, is crying, because bruce hid the truth about willis' death from him. jay, while crying, asks bruce: "you have taken me out into combat-- but you spare me this?" in response, bruce lectures jason about how grief inspires revenge, which is, again, deeply ironic, given that jay seeking out revenge seemed to be prompted and enabled solely by the role of robin. moreover, his question suggests that at this point he saw grief ("you spare me this") and fighting as two different things.

the final is, as you said, bruce focusing on making it into a lesson on vigilantism, or, in his own words, "tempering revenge into justice." personally, i think in this way bruce directs jason to bring his grief into the field as a powering force, something that he didn't necessarily have an own incentive to do. the flash of compartmentalisation between his ordinary life and being a sidekick that jay has shown by questioning bruce's decision is lost. emotions are now a robin thing, and they have an (informal) protocol, a moral code. and when jay is confronted with an emotionally exhausting case next – the garzonas case, i believe that the focus on "tempering revenge into justice" is exactly the problem– we don't see jay crying, we see him frantic about finding the solution. this, right there, is bruce's obsessiveness, that in my opinion, was developed in jay specifically as a result of how his engagement with vigilantism combines with his deep sensitivity.

and, needless to say, his sensitivity is all the same as that of bruce – they both can't stand looking at other people hurting, they both wear their hearts on their sleeve, caring way too much – the thing is, bruce never quite acknowledges how they are similar in this matter. instead, he focuses on his sparse bursts of anger, wanting to bring jason closure in his grief the only way he knows it – in a fight for a better world. so, as you said, he focuses on jason's ability as robin.

which just doesn't work for jason. at all. we know it from how his robin run comes to an end: in the first issue of a death in the family (batman #426) alfred informs: “i’ve come upon him, several times, looking at that battered old photograph of his mother and father, crying.”  to that, bruce contends: “in other words, i may have started jason as robin before he had a chance to come to grips with his parents deaths.” he also tells jay that the field is not a place for someone who is hurting; a message that is the opposite of what he's been saying for years now, and something that i imagine was difficult for bruce to conceptualise, because then he would have to question his own unhealthy tendencies. it's a bit late to come to this realisation; bruce's self-projection that caused him to worry so much about jay's anger has already turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy that will fully manifest itself in utrh, when jason does the only thing he was taught to do with grief: try to channel it into justice.

[msommers]

did you mean: blorbo with eternal anger issues

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