#but i need a goddamn BREAK from the constant performance i need to do to maintain these relationships

[npdiluc]

I'm honestly getting so tired of pretending to care about other people but if I stop then most of my friendships will be ruined !!!

[stomach-bugg09]

uhhhh can i please request a sully! reader fic wherein she’s lo’ak’s twin and is so so much like jake that although neytiri wouldnt admit it (shes her favorite) but shes also smart like her uncle tommy and brave like her late uncle tsu’tey? i just want more platonic and familial sully family love 🥹 basically just her life and the people she’s impacted, maybe she almost dies bc come on lets give neteyam a break 😭 and her family’s reactions + her recovering 🙏🙏🙏🙏

sully family x lo’akstwin!reader

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

a/n: so, first of all, thank you so much for the request!! second of all, this is so cute and def right up my ally. i decided that, just bc it's generally broad, i’d format it as a head canon so i can continue to test my horizons with writing. hopefully i do your req justice!! feedback is always appreciated. (p.s... please send in requests 🙏🙏 i need the inspo)

you were a sully, and sullys stick together

lo'ak's twin headcanons

being lo’ak’s (older) twin, there’d always been some sort of… fued, if you will, between the two of you. of course, it was light hearted—most of the time.

you’d always try and one-up each other, watching each other’s (extremely dangerous) antics and deciding that the next best idea was to perform something even riskier. let's just say, the two of you liked to keep neytiri and jake on their toes.

because of your quite idiotic decisions, both of your parents, although it was usually more jake than neytiri, felt like they were constantly scolding the two of you. together.

and don't even get me started on poor neteyam, always trying to take the blame from you two. man, he is tired. can't you just be.. i don’t know, smart for once? (the answer is no)

but, one thing that neytiri and jake constantly talk to each other about is the reason you and lo'ak are hazards to yourself and to others is all because of jake. you are just too goddamn alike — dangerously so!

as a result of the two of you being a constant reminder of his own problematic personality, he is harsher on the two of you than he intends.

he’s just scared of you getting hurt.

neytiri almost always reprimands her mate for yelling at the two of you, but she also knows exactly where he’s coming from. she’s been on the front lines of jake’s stupidity for years, so she’s all too familiar with the dangers it brings

but, joke as they might about how dumb you are when it comes to risking your life just to one-up your twin, a small sentimental part of jake notices how goddamn smart you are. not only is your daring personality similar to himself, your intelligence is uncanny to his own twin.

every day he’s reminded of tommy — as you sit next to him with a map, helping him plan the escape route if a raid goes wrong, as you converse with norm, as you examine every living creature that wanders the forest… all of it is a reminder of the brother he once cherished, and that just makes you even more valuable to keep safe (from other threats, but mostly from yourself + lo’ak)

sometimes, when you’re sitting with your father and discussing the best way to approach or escape a raid, neytiri will be sitting nearby, doing her own duties. she always has at least one ear open to listen, and as she hears the alarmingly mature and smart words that leave your mouth, she swells with pride. she may deny it forever and ever, but a part of her favors you because of.. well, everything in all honesty. you're a brave young woman who knows exactly how to speak for herself, what's there not to like?

on occasion, when you aren’t grounded for doing something dumb, neytiri will take you on hunts. the two of you bond, and it is just adorable because mother-daughter bonding is where it's at.

and do not forget how brave you are. oh my god, how is it even possible that you jump towards danger. you would put your life on the line for your siblings, and you would do it again and again. in that, neytiri is reminded of tsu’tey, another piece of pride being sewn into her soul.

now… what happens when you guys have to leave?

well, first of all, let's acknowledge the fact that yes, you did join neteyam and lo’ak to flying from your spots on patrol and into the raid. why’d you do it? lo’ak said he was. it was a no-brainer.

secondly! yes, you were extremely proud when lo’ak flipped the avatars off after they captured you. and you most definitely bit the one that held you when it was your time to escape. and then maybe you hit him over the head with a gun on the forest floor. (you couldn't do anything after that — kiri grabbed you before you could.)

now, when you got word from your parents that you would be leaving… you were not happy. like, at all. you were actually quite pissed, if anything.

the forest was your home. weren’t you just giving the sky-people even more satisfaction by allowing them to drive you from your home?

but, alas, you were eventually able to tone down your stubbornness and actually understand your parents’ point. you were in danger, and that meant having to sacrifice comfort for the lives of you and your siblings.

so, off you went.

by the time you reached the metkayina tribe, your ass was so extremely sore from riding your ikran all that ways. and your legs were so very stiff. do not recommend!!

oh, and the way that that metkayina boy eyed your apparent “freak-like attributes,” that had you set off pretty quickly. kiri had to grab your wrist before you thought to say or do anything.

the pride you felt when your mother stood her ground… of how we love neytiri. an absolute boss.

but, all in all, you could stay. so.. you did. and even you had to admit, the water was gorgeous, even if swimming was the worst form of cardio.

you were quicker to learning the metkayina ways than your twin was, so that was gratifying of course. but, you also knew it wasn’t all that easy learning to breathe when he was head over heels for the girl teaching him (a fact that you definitely did not miss… and you most definitely teased him for it)

now, of course when it gets the point in with ao’nung being an absolute bitch ass to your sister… oh yeah you wouldn't let that slide. unfortunately, you came to scene a tad late, so you only witnessed the ends of the fight. that didn't keep you from smiling with pride at your two brothers who annihilated a group of.. what? four? five? it's hard to say, but they still somehow “won?”

and do NOT get me started on when you and neteyam found out what ao’nung did to lo’ak. you almost murdered a bitch. thank the lord lo’ak ended up being okay, because otherwise ao’nung would have been dead.

you were skeptical at first when lo’ak told your group about payakan. but, based on your deep rooted knowledge of each other, it didn't take long for you to realize he was telling the truth.

so, when it came the time post sky-people’s arrival, you were completely on-board to join lo’ak to warn the whale.

you, of course, tried your hardest to remove the tracker, but you were also an unfortunate victim of yet another kid-napping.

by the time neteyam saved you, lo’ak, tsireya, and tuk (who clung closely to you as soon as you were released), you and lo’ak were fully aware of spider’s presence on the ship

while you weren't really looking to save the human boy, you knew, morally, you would feel better if you did… so, you left tuk to tsireya and joined the boys

you have a lot of battle intelligence just based from listening to your father speak and eavesdropping on the conversations he had when planning raids, so you helped neteyam lead the way.

unfortunately, by the time you all escaped, a bullet had pierced your shoulder. you could barely keep your head above the surface.

you barely even acknowledged as your brothers laid you on a rock, tears pouring down their cheeks as they attempted to not only reassure you, but reassure themselves.

you were losing blood quickly, but tsireya was quick. she knew exactly what to do, so she did it. neytiri and jake were barely functional as they watched the metkayina girl tend to your shoulder. but, as much as they wanted to, they could not stay. they had two other daughters kidnapped by quaritch.

so, as they went to save their girls, tsireya kept your from bleeding out (temporarily) before rushing the two of you on her ilu back to her mother.

the recovery process was long but sweet. every member of your family was overjoyed when you woke up and ended up being alive and okay. lots of tears were shed.

they were quick to help you recover to your full abilities, and they were more excited than you were everytime that you reached a new achievement. getting out of bed was apparently something to be proud of.

but, all in all, you were a sully, and sullys stick together.

[thesandwichdaddy]

Drumsticks

{Andrew/Rebecca-Whiplash}

(TW: substance use, smoking)

This is not proofread at all 😭. Rebecca is an original character. I will make more parts to this. Not really proud of this but ily 🫶🏻

3.2k words

Rebecca’s first week at Shaffer was really disappointing to her. Still, though it wasn’t the best, she appreciated the small gym and tennis court they had. It seemed like there was no one who went to Shaffer, all the students being quiet and distant.

She did manage to make a friend, though, a small preppy girl at the tennis court who just hit the ball against the net by herself. So, Becca, being the nice person she was, offered to be her partner and even her friend. The girl was thrilled, and so they often played tennis together when Becca wasn’t drumming away, with Fletcher giving a new piece every week.

It was hard to keep up with, but she managed. She didn’t let the class consume her mind, not like Andrew. Andrew was quite the character for Becca. A tall, awkward boy who would die to be core drums was a constant battle for Becca. At first, they were too awkward to even talk or complain about who was playing that day. It was painfully awkward for Becca.

The first day Andrew was moved into Becca’s music class, afterwards Becca swore he had been following her a bit. She felt his eyes on her, glaring as she left for her dorm. Then, once she was on the tennis court with her friend, she noticed him walking past, his eyes meeting hers, and then quickly looking away.

A few weeks later, the arguments between her and Neiman became frequent. They were almost like children fighting over whose turn it was and who could get the attention of Fletcher more.

“What did I tell you about adjusting my goddamn seat?” Andrew said with a scowl, leaning down to push down the seat to the drums as they set up for the day. “It’s not my fault you're huge, dude. I can't even see past the drums when it’s like that."She retorted as she set her water bottle down next to her, sitting in the seat beside the music stand. “I’m not huge; you’re just small. And weak,” Andrew said as he sat, not bothering to give her a glance. Becca shook her head a bit, annoyed, as she just ignored him, grumbling under her breath. “And it isn’t your seat..." Andrew ignored it, practicing as he tried to drown out her presence beside him.

Most days were like this: constant bickering and insults being thrown left and right. But one particular day, it became worse—way worse. Fletcher made the decision to make Becca the core drummer, thus giving her the spot to perform at their upcoming concert. She was happy about this and pleasantly surprised. But not Andrew. His eyes burned holes into Becca as he glared her down. It was the breaking point for him. How could she just steal his place that he worked so hard for just like that? He despised her nonchalant attitude about it as well. She didn’t know how badly he wanted—no—needed to play. This was his life, his everything.

As Becca walked out of class, Andrew was quick to rush over, walking with her. “What the fuck was that?? What did you do??” He immediately questioned her, which earned a confused look from Becca as she kept walking. “What do you mean, ‘what did I do’? I fucking earned that spot; that’s what I did.” She retorted, not in the mood for his fits. Andrew harshly grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to stop and look at him. “You had to have done something. He wouldn’t just replace me like that,” he said, his brows furrowed as he looked down at her. He was breathing hard and really worked up about this. Becca looked at him in disbelief, giving a slightly amused smile at this. “You sound crazy, Andrew. Just accept that I’m better than you.” She said, his large hand still on her shoulder, holding on tightly. This made Andrew even more pissed, his jaw tensing. “You’re not better than me. You know what? I bet you fucking opened your legs for him, didn’t you?” He said it harshly at her. Really, Andrew didn’t mean it, but he was too mad to stop himself now. Becca looked at him in disbelief, beyond anger, as she shoved his arm off her. “You are disgusting, Andrew.” She growled, going to walk again, but was stopped by Andrew once again turning her around, now with both of his hands tightly on her shoulders. “You haven’t earned shit, have you? You slut—“He was cut off by a harsh slap from Becca, making him back off and hold his face in slight shock from it. Becca looked at him in disbelief and anger. “Fuck you, Andrew.” She said that before going to leave, Andrew was just watching. The slap hurt, but in the best way possible for Andrew. He caught his breath. He didn’t actually mean what he said, but that slap was definitely deserved. For some reason, his focus now wasn’t so much on the drums as on Becca. He sighed, his face red from both the slap and his feelings. He had really messed himself up this time.

——

It was weird after that—quiet. Andrew didn’t talk to Becca, and she didn’t talk to him either. She played and practiced while Andrew turned her pages. It would feel rewarding for her if she hadn’t felt bad about him not playing. She had to admit that it got to her.

Andrew was caught in his feelings, confused. While a big part of him was dealing with the disappointment of not playing, the other part couldn’t stop thinking about Becca. It wasn’t just envy this time; this was a crush. He scowled at that thought. How childish of him to have a crush, he thought. Now that he thought about it, the last crush he had was in high school, but even then, it was nothing more than the usual teenage boy hormones. This was different; this felt real. Too real. He was a mess.

——

Becca was slacking. Her drumming became sloppy as her mind was ridden with the guilt of taking Andrew's place. He was a much better drummer; she knew that. Was this what she wanted? She didn’t think so. So here she was, standing outside of Fletcher’s office after class with her sticks in her hand, mentally preparing herself to talk to him.

She gave a soft knock, wincing as she did. She started to think that he didn’t hear until she heard a deep voice boom on the other side. “Come in.” And she did, nervously closing the door behind her. Fletcher looked at her with intrigue; his brows furrowed as he gestured for her to sit. Becca took a seat on the other side of his desk and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure how he’d take this, but she hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. “Mr. Fletcher, I was hoping you would reconsider who’s on the core drums for the concert.” She said, ripping off the bandaid and being straight forward. Fletcher put down whatever papers he was looking at and crossed his arms, leaning back as he looked at her and thought to himself.

“So did you feel bad about your boyfriend, or are you just pussying out?” Fletcher asked, obviously not pleased. Becca slightly winced at his answer, half expecting it. She ignored the boyfriend's comments at this point, being used to them. "No, uh," she sighed, not knowing how to put it. She sort of did feel bad for her boyfriend—no, Andrew. Becca looked at Fletcher, thinking. He waited with an impatient look on his face. Becca continued, “I think Andrew deserves this more than I do.” She said finally, earning an interested look from Fletcher. It was hard to decipher his emotions most of the time. It was odd to see him so interested, though. Becca was prepared for worse. It was almost like he had expected this, oddly enough.

——

As promised, Andrew got the core drums again. When Fletcher said he had just changed his mind and wanted Andrew back, he looked to Fletcher with shock, feeling like he had found purpose again. Becca was thankful that Fletcher didn’t say anything about their talk. Andrew glanced at her briefly as the news was told, trying to get a read on her emotions. But he was met with nothing but a neutral expression on Becca’s face. He assumed she would be upset. Or maybe she was, but she was good at hiding it? Now he felt a bit bad. Just a little thought, it was nice to finally get a distraction from his feelings now that he had something to work on. Why was she so quiet? Did she hate him? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her.

——

Andrew was going insane. The concert was tomorrow, and he couldn’t focus on anything. Andrew was pretty sure he was having a panic attack, and it was nearly in the middle of the night. He hated when these would happen. He was overwhelmed and more stressed than Elvis Presley. There was so much to think about—too much to think about. His mind didn’t stop, tormenting him with thoughts of the concert, his family, and Becca.

Andrew had to do something. He was pacing around his dorm like a tiger in a cage, his anxiety gnawing at him underneath his skin. He needed someone, his mom—god no, a friend. There was only one person he could think of, and that was to see Becca. It was late, and he had no idea how she even felt about him, but he needed this feeling to go away. Andrew thought he was the biggest creep for this, but he knew what dorm she stayed in because he happened to watch her walk in. He also happened to know that she played tennis on the court right next to her dorm. And he also happened to know that every morning she got a cream cheese bagel for breakfast at the campus cafe. God, maybe he did have a problem. Andrew prayed that she wouldn’t be asleep as he quickly stepped out of his dorm, marching over to hers, which was a whole building away. It gave Andrew time to think as he felt the warm air against his face. He was walking way too fast for anyone to think he was just taking a casual walk. His breaths were short and his chest felt tight as he walked, eventually making it to her dorm, where he repeated the door number a million times on the way there so he wouldn’t forget.

Andrew gave a knock, softer than a pounding but loud enough to come off urgent. Despite his prayers, Becca answered, obviously just having woken up. Her hair was so beautifully messy, and a baggy t-shirt almost covered the shorts she wore underneath it. He wondered if he had a shirt that size; maybe she needed one of his—he needed to stop. Becca looked at him with surprise, rubbing her eye a bit as she held the door open. “Andrew?” She asked, her voice a bit groggy. “Becca,” he said, looking at her as he breathed hard, trying to get out his words. “Please, can I come in?” He asked with a bit of desperation in his voice.

Becca knew something was off with Andrew, and she was worried. She nodded, opening the door as he came in, and she shut the door, looking at him. Andrew quickly looked around and then turned to her. His voice panicked as he started to feel that anxiety again. "Becca, I’m freaking out about tomorrow.” He said, his voice shaking a bit as he swallowed. It was mostly true, just that he left out the part where he also couldn’t stop thinking about her. Becca gave a slightly thoughtful look, still a bit surprised that he was here. The question of how he knew where she stayed didn’t seem to cross her mind just yet. She saw his desperation, feeling a bit sorry for him as she spoke. “You’re having a panic attack?” She asked, which Andrew thought about for a moment. “Yes.” He said it softly, his hands shaking. Becca motioned for him to sit next to her on the couch, and he did, looking forward as he focused on his shaky breath. As Becca woke up a bit more, she glanced at the clock across the room, which was reading 1:15 AM. This had to be really bad for him to be over at this time.

Becca thought about what she should do. She was never good at words, and comforting Andrew seemed like the most difficult task at the moment. Andrew sat there quietly, trying not to look at her beside him because he knew once he did, he’d crumble and try to latch onto her. He didn’t want to do that just yet; he wanted to try to have some sort of self-control for once in his life. With a sigh, Becca finally moved across the room to grab a small metal box, bringing it over. Andrew glanced over with confusion at it, and she opened it. “Have you ever smoked before?” Becca asked, moving the small grinder out of the way to pick a blunt. Andrew looked at her a bit apprehensive, surprised she even had this. “N-No, why are..." He trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. Andrew had always been a good boy, never finding the need for things like this. Maybe occasionally a drink, but he didn’t have a problem. “It helps me when I’m freaking out and can’t sleep.” She answered his question, looking at him. Her expression seemed much softer than before when she looked at him. She waited for him to verbally consent; she wasn’t going to pressure him into anything. She just wanted to help. He gave a nod, sitting up straight and looking at her. “Okay.”

——

So here he was, his lungs slightly burning and his pupils blown out as he lay next to Becca on her humongous couch. “Becca?” Andrew's groggy voice spoke as he turned his head to see her, breaking the long silence between them. Becca met his gaze, her eyes red and slightly lidded. “Yeah?” Andrew swallowed hard, his nerves calmed way more than they had earlier. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, studying her face. “For saying that stuff to you, and for taking the core drums.” Becca turned on her side to look at him, her head propped against her arm. He really did mean it, and he needed to get it off of his chest. He wanted to fix things between them funnily enough. Becca bit back on the urge to tell him that it was her decision to get him on core drums again, but she decided it would be nicer if she didn’t. “It’s okay, Andrew; don’t even worry about it.” She spoke softly, her eyes tracing his jawline. Relief washed over him as he stared into her eyes, calm and high. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve kissed her over and over right there and run his hands over her skin for hours, but he didn’t. “You’re still in your clothes from this morning.” Becca said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Andrew snapped out of his trance, barely hearing her. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He said with a slight smile, looking down at his wrinkled dress shirt and slacks.

There was another silence between them as Andrew looked up at the ceiling, his breaths slowing as his body finally calmed. He was tired, not wanting to worry about anything at the moment. Becca was still observing him, moving her hand to brush his hair slightly out of his face. “You’ll do great tomorrow, Andrew; don’t stress.” She whispered to him, meaning it. Andrews jaw tensed, his breathing starting to become hard as he refused to look at her. One look, and he’d break into tears. He knew it. Becca noticed this, moving closer with a soft look on her face. “Andrew,” she whispered. He shook, a small, painful whimper escaping him as he finally took a breath after holding his breath to stay quiet, something he learned from his childhood. “Hey.” She said, reaching to touch his shoulder just before Andrew sat up sharply. “No.” He said, pained and surprisingly stern. Becca sat up, confused and worried. “What’s wrong, Andrew?” She asked, looking at him as he hunched over and shook slightly. He shook his head, refusing to let his tears fall as he silently panicked. This was the worst thing ever for him; he didn’t want to cry in front of anybody, especially Becca.

He couldn’t speak, his throat and lungs burning from both holding his breath and holding his tears. He ruined the moment. He ruined everything. He should just go. Becca was silent, standing once he did, and she tried approaching again just for Andrew to hold out a hand to stop her. “N-no, please don't..." He said, making it to the door. Becca was beyond confused; a million questions were going through her head. Did she do something wrong? “I’ll see you tomorrow, Becca.” He says, not wanting to face her as he leaves, closing the door. Becca was left silent, looking at the door. She was really worried.

——

Andrew made it to his dorm, immediately going to his bed as he covered his face, finally letting out the cry he needed. He felt pathetic. He hated comfort. He needed comfort. He wanted to stay away from Becca. He longed for Becca. He hated this. He hated his stupid parents and the stupid trauma that made him this way. He wanted so badly for Becca to forgive him and his ways.

He eventually fell asleep, his tear-stained face buried in the pillow that he tightly clutched. He just hoped he was ready tomorrow and that Becca didn’t hate him.

[hello-nichya-here]

God, just one time I want to binge watch Michael Jackson's perfomances on Youtube without finding out about something horrible that is going to break my heart and make me furious. Just one. Single. Solitary. Time.

Literally EVERYONE failed this man, from those in his personal life to general audiences.

He is performing "Earth Song" on a mechanical "bridge", there is a technical issue, he falls FIFTY FUCKING FEET, miraculously survives... and not only did he finish the song, he performed another one. Because, in his own words, he could hear his father saying in his head "Don't disappoint the audience." So he goes on. Even though he obviously needed medical assistence as soon as possible. Even though he is visibly in agony during a lot of it.

AND PEOPLE JUST FUCKING LET HIM!

I get how he could out-run/free himself from one person, but there's entire crews in performances like that - why the fuck didn't they all drag his ass to a hospital?

And the goddamn comments are all "Wow, he was such a professional! So dedicated and hardworking!" SHUT UP, HE COULD HAVE DIED!

No, scratch that, he did die! Bullshit like that is why he got addicted to pain killers and had to be induced into a coma by his lunatic of a doctor to be able to "sleep." I hear a lot about how the constant stress of dealing with the stupid stuff the media made up and the fake pedophilia accusations took quite a brutal toll on both his mental and physical health, but moments like these are the proof that Michael's story was always going to be tragic.

How can anyone in the audience cheer while the artist they claim to adore is neglecting his own health for their sake? How can anyone working with or for him care more about continuing the show than making sure the performer of said show is still alive? How can one fail so badly as a father that their own child's first assumption of what he'd want them to do after such a serious accident be "He'd want me to smile through the pain and keep working like a dog"?

Was treating him with even a shred of humanity and making money off of him without exploiting him too much to ask? They just had to make the guy work himself to death?

[addisonlover]

how about the addisons with a crush/S/O whos a musician?

A/N: sorry if I use any like instrument terms wrong the only knowledge I have is secondhand stuff I learned from my band friends

Addisons with a musician s/o

Pink Addison

They’re SO gonna make you play their fav songs

Will pull out the very lethal puppy eyes so you can play the same pop song for the 10th time over

Sings the lyrics while you play, it’s now their fav date idea with you

Sometimes just likes to watch you play, loves seeing how your face changes and your hands move

If you do anything in public they’re gonna be the best hypeman ever

Will be sitting in the crowd or standing by you just SHOUTING how much they love you and believe in you

Has to be told to stop because no one can hear your actual playing

Might try to pick up a few lessons so they can play with you

Fully supports you and everything you do

Blue Addison

Immediately looks up proper treatment and care for your instrument

They are the mom friend and By God are they gonna keep it up

Will sometimes surprise you by doing a deep clean of your instrument (with your permission ofc)

LOVES playing with you

Like I said before, I absolutely think they play the drums so they’re gonna play all your favorite songs together

Lowkey annoys their siblings while you two are playing but they’re happy to see Blue happy

If you ever make a comment about wanting to learn a song, they’re instantly gonna start learning it just in case you learn too

Might offer to help you if you’re struggling (yes they did research on how to play)

Sappy time; sometimes messes up their parts while you two are playing because they get too caught up watching you play

Orange Addison

Very supportive even if they can’t play to save their life

Loves music; cannot do anything musical

Willing to sit and listen to you explain everything about your instrument or complain about it too

Loves just hearing you talk

Doesn’t understand a thing you’re talking about but nods their head along with everything

Brings you snacks and drinks while you’re playing, especially if you’re too focused to remember

Quietly supportive

Sometimes asks you to play a song they like

Just loves watching you play with hearts in their eyes, it becomes their favorite types of dates

Yellow Addison

YALL ARE MAKING A FUCKING BAND!!!!!! YOU CANNOT STOP IT

The moment they learn you can play ANY instrument they go goddamn bonkers

It’s finally the excuse they needed to finally pick up the guitar

They rock out to any song you’re playing, doesn’t matter

You could be playing classical music and they’ll be right there rocking tf out and headbanging

If they’re watching you preform then they’ll absolutely wink at you and blow you kisses to mess with you

Is always all over you, praising you after any show or song

Just a constant flow of how much they love your playing and how they love you

Buys you whatever you need to maintain your instrument or the sheets to a new piece of music you wanted to learn

They just love that they have someone that they can play with now

Spamton

He isn’t a huge music guy but he becomes one for you

Learns everything about your instrument so he knows what you’re talking about at all times

Saves up money so that he can buy you that newer and better model for your instrument that you’ve been talking about

He will save up for MONTHS just to get you whatever you want

New music, a new piece, have someone deep clean and polish it, this man is a simp

Yknow that thing where people lay on their stomachs and put their head in their hands and kick their feet? He’s doing that while watching you play

Takes you on a date after every single performance

You say you’re too tired to go anywhere? At home date time! He’ll order something in

You did really really well? He’s breaking into his funds a little bit and taking you to a nice restaurant!

Whatever you want, he’s down 100%, no arguments

He is the type to worship you like goddamn royalty he loves you and everything you do so much it’s unreal

[spacetwinks]

It's good to see you on here! I've always wanted to ask you as a long-time follower, first-time caller just how you deal with Twitter and all the dumb bullshit that goes with it? Specifically not caring about what people say about you, follower count, amount of positive reactions to your posts, etc.

It feels like Twitter has legitimately affected my mental health because all I ever get exposed to on there is CONSTANT negativity. Even from folks I generally tolerate. I would love to just stop using it, but everytime I try it feels like I'm missing out on a lot. Plus it's where most of my friends are.

How do you shut out the voices in your head that make that website a goddamn nightmare?

part of it is just curation of who you're following, actively muting certain terms and phrases that might make things bad for you in your head, having a locked account for venting shit (this is one i think is crucial because sometimes you still want to post just to get bad energy out of you but you need a space where it won't be seen by EVERYBODY - maybe just a few people, or maybe even just yourself, tho in the latter i'd recommend getting a regular ass journal for that purpose), all that sort of regular social media stuff but part of it is for me, personally... i just had a break a long time ago with wanting to be The Funny Guy.

because i’m me, this is gonna get long. bear with me.

it's something i actually brought up forever ago on tumblr itself, and how i approached this platform in contrast to my existence in other online spaces before it, my approach would be I Just Post. from serious shit to funny shit to dumb shit, i just let it out of my head, emptying it out. in times WAY long ago in my personal life i would want to be The Funny Guy because that was how i saw myself as having value, which pushed me into unhealthy patterns, needing to 'perform', needing to be 'on', and losing my own sense of value if i wasn't making people laugh, wondering if i'd be pushed out of friendships or social spaces if i let my true self out. i'd keep all sorts of my real feelings inside of me and just simmer with awful thoughts because i had to be The Funny Person, at least that's how i thought of it at the time.

so i fucking ditched it. it wasn't healthy for anybody, not for me, not for the people who came to see me as The Funny Guy either and what preconceptions they might have of me because of it. this also lead to giving less and less of a shit about having high follower counts or whatever. people get it really twisted 1. what a high follower count *actually* is and 2. what it means, materially, for the person who has it. i got 27k on twitter and to someone who doesn't have 1k followers on twitter, yeah, that'll seem like a lot, but here's the thing:

follower counts don't pay bills. follower counts don't help you eat. the only time these numbers are materially useful to me in any way is when i have something new to sell, a twine, a pack of photos, or whatever. and even then, i still have to regularly advertise that stuff, because this relative high follower count doesn't automatically translate to success, to money, whatever. a lot of the people following me are a lot like me: they do not have a lot of money to pass around. this isn't the pre-'08 crash era where we're all tossing 5 bucks at some webcomic's paypal donation bar to get some 800x600 computer wallpapers, everything costs more and everybody has less disposable income. people with a lower amount of followers have, i think, an understandable assumption that high follower count = something materially beneficial, but... no, not really. if we all had more disposable income again, maybe.

but we don’t.

and i'd be fucking miserable if i approached my online presence that way too. just trying to get more followers, focusing solely on that above all else, to get bigger to achieve - what? i get a couple more freelance writing job offers that pay 50 bucks to, at most, 300 dollars? fucking god awful, man. that's not a life i wanna live.

also, seriously, digging in more into how 'high follower counts' are relative: it's not just that my numbers are nothing compared to actual literal celebs, but they're also frequently nothing compared to, say, some random fursuiters i might've never seen before, who are, again, themselves nothing in follower count compared to actual celebs. i think sometimes fixate on a random person who SEEMS popular and get lost in how that 'popularity' can be extremely relative. it's good to step outside of it and see where other people are much, much more popular, and then also to check if THAT greater popularity actually translates into something material for the person with it. it's less common than people tend to assume!

same goes for the ‘not caring what people say about me’. it’s not a ‘haters gonna hate’ deal, it’s ‘sometimes people just won’t like you’. some people just won’t like me. that’s fine! maybe it’s because they think my jokes suck, or i post too much/am too longwinded (these are incredibly justified reasons to dislike me in particular, i do post too much and am too long winded), or for whatever reasons. so long as someone isn’t like trying to start shit with me over it, it’s... whatever, y’know? there’s people i just don’t like too. trying to make it so Everyone Likes Each Other or Trying To Make Everyone Like you is disastrous for everyone’s mental health, especially one’s own. i’d very much rather not end up like fucking amanda palmer obsessing over some Guardian reviewer who didn’t like her work, or a YA author finding some student from several years ago mildly dunking on their books in the article of a small town college newspaper and blowing their top over it. and some of those fuckers - like amanda palmer there - actually make a SHITLOAD of money. they could be jet skiing all the time on a private island, but instead they just fuck themselves up over the fact that some random critic didn’t like their music. not healthy for amanda palmer - or for the critic!

other thing about twitter: it’s the fucking Id of social media platforms. no other site is more ‘everyone is just dumping out what they’re feeling with zero thought for curation’ than twitter. it’s just not designed with curation in mind! i’ll post about whatever the fuck comes to mind, because it all gets into the ‘waterfall’ of people’s feed, people EXPECT things to be all over the place on twitter, ESPECIALLY if they follow a lot of people. someone following 2000, 3000 people, and i’m one among them? my thoughts are just one of many, bursting forth and then disappearing into the flooded ether among the rest! i don’t worry about being ‘consistent’ or having a ‘presence’ because twitter isn’t built for it nearly as well as anything else. i talk about depression, beat ‘em up video games, communism, and which version of master splinter i think is the hottest, maybe all of them in the same day, and it’s just fuckin’ whatever. i find it personally so much preferable than trying to ‘be’ some particular performance, like being ‘the funny guy’ how i used to.

also: right now? twitter is gonna be a lotta negativity in particular! the world is in all sorts of fucked up flux emergency states right now and worse yet for many of us there’s no structure in our lives that actually values and gives time for us to pour out our grief and worry and fear in a healthy way and with the dedicated time necessary to do so. it’s all just sorta scrunched into one fucking cube. some people will handle it okay-ish, for various reasons. i think i do okay-ish, largely because i’ve just been extremely online since i was a kid and i’ve absorbed so much poison that i’ve immunized against a lot of it and process it different. other people won’t handle it as okay-ish, and there’s... nothing wrong with that! not the fault with them for not being able to handle it, but the fault of our societal structures that they don’t give us any real means to handle it but just ‘rugged individualism’ bullshit.

if going cold turkey sounds too much for you right now, i’d say instead just take large steps back from it instead of throwing it out completely, cut down your numbers of who you’re following and/or temporarily deploy more tactical mutes, make a locked account for brain venting purposes, and put more time and mental energy into fulfilling hobbies elsewhere during times you’d spend more on twitter.

you can’t eat twitter clout, you can’t pay bills with it, caring about ‘getting big’ on twitter or w/e is bad for the self and for others. dramatically reassess and change how you interact with that website, find ways to do so that are better for yourself, build other means of communities with your existing friends (and making new ones), do what’s right for you. take care, anon.

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

Would u be willing to have a follow up or pt 2 to guilt flavored cupcakes? If not, could i request a jisung angst that ends with fluff? Hehe 💚💚💚

i tried to fit both of your requests into one :) the beginning is realllyyyy angsty, but i promise it gets better! it’s a bit long, i got a little carried away haha,, but i hope you enjoy <3

(part one is located here.)

“this is all your fault!” jisung yelled, slamming the door he had just walked through, his eyes shining with tears and his voice shaky. out of surprise and shock, all twenty-two of his fellow members had their eyes blown wide. “if you assholes just kept your mouths shut, this wouldn’t be happening right now!”

“jisung, what are you talking about?” taeyong gently asked. even the choreographer had stopped in his tracks upon the youngest’s unexpected entrance.

“them!” he pointed to the dreamies, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror. confused, all of the boys rose their eyebrows. “the one thing that makes me happy—the one person that truly makes me happy isn’t mine anymore because of you,” he spit out harshly, pointing to the five boys who he had initially put the blame on. his phone was clutched tightly in his hands, still lit up and on the page of his call log; your name being at the top of the list. 

“jisung, what the hell are you talking about?” renjun asked, confusion laced in his voice. it wasn’t long before jisung’s bottom lip began quivering, tears streaming freely down his face as he let out an characteristically loud sob. “y/n broke up with me,” he choked out, shutting his eyes so tight as if he couldn’t bare to say those words. he dropped his phone on the ground, pulling at his hair in distress. 

jaemin rolled his eyes, “of course she did. we already warned you, jisung. she was using you for your idol status. think of this as a good thing.” the dreamies shook their heads in agreement. 

johnny spoke up, “guys, i don’t think now is a good time-”

“fuck you.”

silence. complete, utter, silence. jaemin—as well as the rest of nct—was speechless. never, in all their years of knowing jisung, had his members heard him cuss in such a bitter, hateful, and sincere way. shocked wasn’t even the word. 

“what did you just say to me?” jaemin’s eyes were wide, his jaw open in surprise. did he just say what i think he said? 

“you heard me loud and clear, jaemin. fuck you. fuck all five of you. you never gave her a fucking chance! all of you are always so mean to her, and for what? what did she ever do to you? you never even tried to like her. you would push her aside, say mean things straight to her face. you treated her like a goddamned criminal!” his tears were nonstop, cheeks a bright red and eyelids swollen from the constant tears. he sniffled, biting his lip in an attempt to control his sobs. 

“what did she say during the call?” doyoung asked cautiously, laying a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. jisung sniffled again, gaining enough composure to speak.

“sh-she called because her dress was ruined. the dress for the awards, y’know. i paid for it to be altered to her size, and she came by the dorm yesterday when i wasn’t there to pick it up. and she went to take it out of the bag today, and there was paint all over it! and it was ripped in a bunch of places, and when i asked her how she ruined it, she told me that it wasn’t her. but i know exactly who it was,” jisung deadpanned, his eyes growing dark as he looked at the five guilty boys sitting on the floor. their lack of response made the answer very clear to everyone in the room. 

kun sighed in disappointment, “what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“it was her grandma’s dress.” jisung looked down at his feet, his eyes shining with tears again; and not because of the breakup. but rather, his mind went to the hurt in your voice when crying to him over the phone. “jisung, this dress is the only thing i had left of her. and now it’s completely ruined.”

“what?” chenle said. 

“it was her grandma’s dress. the woman who raised her, who died last year. it was her dress and it was the only thing y/n had left of her. and you fucking ruined it, and tore it to shreds! how fucked up are you guys!? she broke up with me because she can’t do it anymore. she can’t handle the way you treat her. she dealt with it for two years now, and this was the final straw. are you fucking happy now?”

the immediate guilt suddenly had everyone’s heart skipping a beat—and not in a good way. a series of flashbacks had appeared in their minds; all of the times when you were at the dorm, making jisung laugh until he couldn’t breathe. the countless times you brought him soup and cuddles when he wasn’t feeling good, or the small pep-talks you would give him before a performance that always seemed to calm him. the way you always cooked and cleaned around the dorm because you knew how hard jisung and his members worked. all the times he had gushed—and gushed some more—about how amazing you were and how much he loved you with the most joyful smile he had ever shown. 

“jisung, we-”

“save it.”

shit. we really fucked up.

—

a whole four-and-a-half weeks had passed when jeno called you. you weren’t expecting to see his name pop up on your phone, thus the reason you gasped out loud. you assumed he was calling to tell you how bad of a person you are for breaking up with jisung—so you didn’t answer. it’s not like you wanted to break up with him; the dreamies gave you no other choice. when haechan called not minutes later, however, you started to grow confused. surely they would give up, right? but then renjun called. and then, jaemin. and then, chenle. eventually, your curiosity got the best of you.

“hello?” you answered nervously, trying your absolute best to stabilize your voice. due to all the crying and frustration, however, your voice came out more hoarse and broken than intended. the other line was silent. 

“. . . chenle?” 

“meet me at the coffee shop next to the dorms in twenty minutes.”

“what? why?” you began, but the line had already gone dead. confused, you dragged yourself out of your bed and made yourself look presentable. well, as presentable as you could, considering the fact that you’d been hibernating in your room out of sadness for the past four weeks.

you arrived to the cafe with a heavy heart. you were sure your heart was going to burst out of your chest at the sight of the five boys who seemingly hated you, sitting around a table with one empty chair. you hesitantly walked in, the bell on the door gaining their attention. you smiled lightly at them out of habit. you sat down in silence, hugging your sweater a little tighter on instinct, feeling small under their gazes. they were surely going to scold you, right? i mean, you did just break their best friend’s heart. but yours was broken, too. 

the boys took in your appearance, and with one glance, they knew you were just as heartbroken as jisung. their younger friend had barely spoken since that day; he would perform and practice like always, but the minute the cameras were off, he was cold and distant. he locked himself in his room every night, forcing jaemin to sleep on the couch. he had barely eaten, his energy and passion dropping drastically due to a lack of motivation. even the fans had started suspecting the changes. he wasn’t acting himself.

haechan was the first to break the silence. “we’re sorry, y/n. . .” he spoke quietly, avoiding your eyes in shame and guilt. your eyes widened in surprise, a shocked huh? coming from your mouth. is this a joke? as if renjun read your mind, he answered your question.

“we’re serious. we never gave you a chance. we were so mean to you and we’re sorry for everything. truly sorry,” renjun said, a glint of sincerity in his eyes. the apology, in all honesty, pricked at a certain part of your heart. like a bandaid being ripped from a wound, and all it took was a gentle smile from jaemin before your eyes were watering. “especially about your grandma’s dress,” renjun added on in a guilty mutter, training his eyes downward. you flinched at his words, remembering the mess they made of your precious grandmother’s dress.

you sniffled, your tears flowing freely now as you cleared your throat. “you guys were just worried about jisung, it’s understandable-“ you began, before chenle cut you off.

“why are you so nice to us, y/n? we treated you like shit from day one for absolutely no reason, and you’re still being nice to us and making excuses for our behavior. we know we’re in the wrong, y/n. you don’t need to say anything.”

you gaped at him, before slowly nodding your head as you cried. you were surprised to feel a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking up and seeing a kind-smiled haechan through your tears. “seriously, why? you’re too kind, y/n.” you could only look at him, muttering a small, “because jisung loves you guys so much.”

your own words made you cry harder, lightly laughing at yourself out of nerves. “i’m sorry for crying like this,” you said, swiping at your red and puffy cheeks, trying to keep up with the vigorous tears.

jaemin lightly chuckled, “it’s no big deal. it’s no different than jisung, nowadays.” at this, your heart nearly ripped in half, and you felt a pain in your chest that you could only describe as excruciating. you looked up at him wide-eyed, stuttering over yourself, struggling to find the words.

“he’s a mess, y/n,” jeno spoke truthfully, his own eyes watering a bit at the thought of jisung cooped up in his room, crying himself to sleep every night. “don’t blame it on yourself. it’s not your fault. it’s ours,” he said.

your cries hadn’t stopped, the people around giving you weird looks and questioning eyes. “please talk to him, y/n,” chenle pleaded, eyeing you carefully. you quickly regained your composure, hiccups now replacing your cries. you thought for a moment, “what if he’s too upset with me? what if he wants nothing to do with me anymore?”

“trust us, y/n. he wants everything to do with you. he needs you.”

—

your hand shook as you lifted it up to the doorknob of the familiar practice room. you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to gain back your composure. jisung and his members were leaving for tour in a few days, and you refused to let him leave without talking to him. you were planning to wait until nighttime, but as you sat in your room with your mind swirling, you couldn’t wait any longer.

you had finally gained the courage to open the door, but before you could, someone else beat you to it. mark looked at you with surprise, an unreadable expression on his face. you quietly greeted him, nervously picking at your nails as you shuffled on your feet.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” he spoke, his eyes softening at the clear distress on your face. you lightly peaked inside the practice room, and mark instantly got the hint. he quickly moved aside to make room for you, an encouraging smile on his face.

the world seemed to stop, then. the moment you walked into the room, jisung had caught your eyes in the mirror. his hair was disheveled, his eyes puffy, red, and tired. the bags under his eyes sadly matched yours, his face looking slimmer than normal and his figure hunched over in a sulk. his skin was red and uneven, a few stress pimples coating his forehead and his chin.

“y/n?” he spoke suddenly, his voice broken, and your eyes instantly teared up at the sound of his voice cracking. nearly everyone was staring at you wide-eyed, and you gulped nervously.

“i know this probably isn’t the best time, but i-i just. . . “ you trailed, losing your voice as you looked at the ground. you looked up again, jisung now facing you with a sad look in his eyes. you sighed, “can we talk?”

—

the door was closed and the boys couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t stop them from looking through the small glass window. even their choreographer was trying to get a better view, all of them hoping and praying that you were here to get their maknae back. they could only see your face, jisung’s back to the door. you held his hands tightly in yours, your lips moving and tears flying freely down your face.

they couldn’t see jisung, but the way his shoulders shook vigorously was a clear indication that he, too, was sobbing. your regretful words and pleas of i love you more than anything, i’m such an idiot for breaking up with you sent daggers through jisung’s heart. your eyes screamed the words forgive me, please. and how was he to say no to you?

he nodded his head with intent, “i could never be mad at you for this, y/n. i’m such a coward for not sticking up for you-“

“don’t say that, park jisung. you did stick up for me. it’s all in the past now, okay? they. . . they apologized to me. they’re the reason i’m here right now,” you confessed, jisung’s eyes widening at your words.

“none of it matters now, i promise. please, can we forget this ever happened? i can’t be without you, baby,” you cried, the affectionate name sounding so familiar yet so foreign to jisung. it tugged at his heart strings, all strumming for you in every way possible. without hesitation, he nodded his head, a relieved smile taking over his features. 

you practically wailed in relief, taking his face in your hands and planting your lips on his in a passionate kiss; all of the emotions that the two of you had felt over the past weeks were being poured out, your pain matching each other’s in the most intimate and vulnerable way possible. the taste of your simultaneous tears didn’t matter in that moment; all that mattered was that you were his again, and he was yours.

“they’re kissing! i repeat, they’re kissing!” taeyong exclaimed, a series of happy and excited shouts filling the room as the members cheered for the both of you. jisung pulled away, only to look back and see a bunch of prying eyes through the window, all smiling and high-fiving each other at the scene before them. and the best part? the dreamies were the happiest of them all. you chuckled at them, causing jisung to look back at you in amazement.

“i love you so much, y/n. please never leave me again,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck and pulling you as close as he possibly could. your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, closing your eyes in bliss and letting out a sigh of relief. “never again,” you assured both him, and yourself. you basked in his embrace. finally. you were home. he held you as if you were to disappear the second he let go, and in that moment, jisung concluded that losing you was his biggest fear.

[wisehq]

Mission Debrief: Chapter Forty-nine

...It smells like a goddamn come-back!

Okay, jokes about my inevitable return aside, can we all agree that Steve Jobs look-alike is creepy as sin? The discord sever has passed their judgement; the dude’s definitely a freak- kudos to Endo for making the first character I outright despise, I guess? Anyway, after missing out on the last chapter I’m ready to go full steam ahead on this week’s update!

It was a short chapter thankfully and definitely back-loaded, but there’s still plenty to talk about as always. I’m making triple sure to save my draft as I go this time and I’ve got alcohol at the ready, so let’s fricken do this!

I’m not going to talk much about the assassins; they are all bad men and they are all up to bad things, and that’s...pretty much all we got lol. Evil Franky is probably the most interesting of the bunch to me, but even he didn’t do much this chapter. They were glossed over mostly, so instead I wanna focus on my favorite panels.

Poor Loid, honestly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m reveling in all his misery- it’s just that at this point in the story even I have to relent and say I feel bad how stuck in the middle of everything he is. Anya’s manipulating him (hilariously) and he just can’t catch a break, and on top of all that he still has to play dad like the good little spy he is. That face of his will forever be a mood, and I resonate wholly with his done-ness (also just pointing out that Anya is adorable as ever- SHE’S SO LITTLE!)

Okay, Zeb and Olka...I’ll captain this dam ship myself if I have to. Honestly, this whole development we got out of them came out of nowhere, but I’m not complaining at all. I could see how someone might ship them in earlier chapters, courtesy of  the old tried and true method of “boy + girl + being in general close proximity = love” that we see all the time, but Zeb coming out and being (mostly) outright with his feelings took my completely by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anything between these two, aside from perhaps a friendship born from being forced to escape with one another. I would have been fine with that, but this takes it to a much more interesting level-

-especially when framed within the context of the war, and it’s after-math. On top of the cute moment we got with Zeb and Olka, we got to learn a bit more about how the world was after the fighting stopped. @tare-chan​�� and I discussed a bit about how criminal organizations such as the mafia have historically offered help in times of hardship, and it’s interesting that this is the route Endo took with things (Shopkeeper’s comments about Olka’s family being an honorable criminal organization certainly make more sense now, at least). We also have confirmation that it’s been roughly a decade since the war ended, something that’s touched on a bit more as McMahon returns to rendezvous with the others.

He’s such an enigmatic character. I want to know more about his past and his relationship with Garden. It’s also very interesting how he frames himself and Yor; they’re soldiers, just like Yuri. Whether it’s for the government or shadow government, they fight and die for the sake of Ostania. He truly believes in his cause, and he wholly expects the same out of Yor.

McMahon is cold and calculated. Yor, meanwhile, is soft and earnest. She is wholly outside her wheelhouse; nothing about this mission is like anything she’s ever done before. Personally, as an outsider looking in, I think she’s doing a fantastic job so far. Not only has she kept multiple assassins at bay while protecting three people, she hasn’t drawn any attention to herself in the process. She’s damn good at what she does, but for McMahon that’s not good enough- or rather, it’s not good enough for the mission. She needs to be perfect. She needs to be cold, calculated, and lethal, just like McMahon. She needs to be ready to die to protect Olka and the baby. She needs to be Thorn Princess...and Yor Forger is in the way of that. McMahon sees that, and he warns her; throw everything away, or it’ll all be taken away. Permanently.

Yor’s not dumb. She’s very self-aware, enough so to re-evaluate herself and her performance as of late. She knows that she’s lost her edge, and it’s all because she’s afraid now. Afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of getting found out. Afraid of losing her family. She’s not an emotionless robot anymore, not like the empty-eyed woman we saw her to be in the initial few chapters. Yor has things she wants to protect, things to fight for. In many situations and stories, one would assume that to be a boon- but here it’s not. Her job involves kill or be killed, and worldly ties will only hold you back. It’s a frame of thought that’s kept her among the living all this time...

...but as I said, Yor’s not dumb. She’s thinking, enough to where she’s starting to question why she’s even risking everything in the first place. What’s in it for her? How does her risking her life day in and day out benefit her? She already has everything she could want; people who care for her, and people who she cares for in return. In that sense, being an assassin is- in actuality- a distraction from what she truly desires...but at the same time, she’s too far in. At least at the moment. No amount of fondness she has for her family will get her out of the situation she’s in right now. So then, what to do?

I’ll go ahead and predict that Olka, being wide-awake as she is, will likely give her another pep-talk. She’s no stranger to difficult choices. Likewise, matters of friends and family, and choosing between them an duty, will likely be subjects she knows a thing or two about. At least I hope, anyway. I want more interaction between them, and I also want Yor to come to a deeper understanding of her current state. Deep down she knows what she wants, but she’s forcing herself to comply with everyone else’s whim. Hopefully sometime soon it’ll coming a point where she stops thinking about what others want out of her, and instead focus on what’s best for her- and by extension, the people she cares about.

Here’s hoping we get at least a peak of that next chapter.

In the meantime, though- BONUS!

I’d like to hang this on my wall and title it, “My constant state of mind”

[imtheiliad]

I can see how if eddie would have a retail job it would kill him? It killed my mental health so much work and no pay? And eddie would hate every second of it but it's a safe job he isn't in imidiate danger and doesn't have to perform darring rescues. But it would kill him mentally but in his mind it would be just a constant 'it's for chris so i will be safe and he will still have a parent' but chris notices he knows his dad isn't happy

like yes 100% being in retail would absolutely make this man so miserable butttt, i know applying logic in fandom fun isn't like the most fun thing but i have thoughts 🤪 "realistically" his job needs to be more specialized, where he can use the skills that he has mostly because of the financial aspect. previous to firefighting he had 3 jobs to make enough for his life in texas, and now i can imagine there are more expenses now that chris is in school, carla, and LA cost of living ....a retail job would not cover that. so either he goes back to working multiple jobs and has little time for chris resulting in him being miserable still, and having that mentality of "its for chris", but idk that he would do that again, backslide that far ig? which is why i think hes gonna be at the academy. cause that brings a whole new level of angst, its like having everything he loves right at his fingertips, he'll be teaching a maneuver and have a quip about it and turn to say it to Buck and he's not there, he's not even in the simulations, he's timing them. he's watching people fall in love with the thing he so desperately wants to be doing. but "its for chris". idk how the clipboards work, but what if the record holders are on there so they know if someone breaks one, so he has "BUCKLEY" just burning a hole in the paper every goddamn day. But then, no matter what job he does have, Chris has another "you could be dead next year" moment, cause i firmly believe that 5x10 is not the end of that, and eddie is confused cause he's not out on the street anymore, because i will bang pots and pans and be on my soapbox forever that chris does not separate firefighter from dad like eddie does, and he lost his mother to an unfortunate accident, so he is still worried, still petrified of losing him. and i think that is what eddie needs to understand and take away from this whole thing in terms of what is "for chris". i feel like the specificity of "im leaving the 118" also supports him working at the academy or another faction of the department. Basically, i think whatever job he does end up having will result in a similar mentality of "for chris", when he needs to realize that chris is older and can have more input on what that means.

[levitatingbiscuits]

hi sorry i just need to rant about lightsabers for a bit. (bear with me. i swear this isn’t just nitpicking the accuracy of physics and swordplay in a space opera, bc I swear I wouldn’t make a post JUST for that)

so, i have a bit of experience with swords. not actual swords, but bokken and wooden replicas, at least. i’ve been trained in basic shakespearian stage combat since i was 8 years old, but the only move I got really good at was the moulinet, aka that flippy thing everyone complains about in the prequels:

however, unlike everyone claims, THIS MOVE IS NOT USELESS. sure, it can be used to show “i’m fancy and well-trained,” but it’s ALSO extremely useful for acquainting yourself to the heft and length of your weapon, as well as readjusting your grip if your other hand is occupied (historically by a shield), or even if you just wanna do it quickly because you’re worried the other guy is about to stab/disarm you. it also helpfully keeps others at bay when your grip is at its weakest because they don’t wanna get hit by the blade and bleed tf out, much like poor anakin up there. Not to mention, IN UNIVERSE they can use moulinets to deflect blaster fire and seek openings in other saber users’ defenses.

HOWEVER X2: this move should not be possible with a plasma blade/”laser sword.”

plasma is weightless. the moulinet depends on the weight of the blade to function. imagine trying to do this move with a deadly flashlight instead of a sword, which is essentially what a lightsaber is. ewan and hayden were given sticks to stand in for the lightsaber blades, which is the only reason they can physically perform this move. (also probably why their stances are all so dumb -- the physics are COMPLETELY different. Only Makashi even vaguely resembles irl blade combat, and that’s because Christopher Lee was a fencer and George incorporated that. Maybe Ataru too, to a lesser extent, but that was because Liam Neeson got trained in broadsword combat for Rob Roy and kept accidentally using irl techniques during his fight scenes.)

BUT: that’s where the Force comes in.

Why is the lightsaber the signature weapon of ONLY the Jedi, when they can so easily be used to devastating effect? Simple answer: lightsabers are super fucking dangerous. They can cut through anything, with minimal effort, so if you drop it it can and will cut through whatever it touches, ESPECIALLY flesh and bone. it’s also weightless, and therefore it’s SUPER FUCKIN EASY to overexert yourself and cut through more than you intended, because it goes through your opponents and solid rock like a hot knife through butter. Even in metal’s case, it’s like a cold knife through fudge. if you aren’t Force-sensitive, you’re just as much of a danger to yourself and your companions as you are to your enemies. that’s probably why the mandalorians didn’t immediately manufacture a million more darksabers, despite it being the weapon equivalent of a wet dream for them: shit just isn’t practical. it’s a status symbol precisely because it’s such a pain in the ass to use.

but we KNOW there’s some force fuckery afoot with the kyber crystals, as well. they’re sentient, and the main way Force nulls can even use them is in giant superweapons. Jedi gotta bond with those little assholes, have to have a fucking vision quest before it will deign to be used by them. Sith have it even worse: they gotta break them to their will by running the gauntlet of their own worst (lightest, technically) thoughts and deepest self-doubts. in return, it sings to its Jedi, and screams at its Sith. 

so i theorize that the only reason why saber users can keep track of where their blade is going is because the saber tells them through the Force. The moulinet is the ultimate expression of skill in saberplay because it signifies complete trust in, and a constant connection with, your crystal. There is a reason Anakin Skywalker often moulinets, and Darth Vader does not. His crystal chose him, and later chose his son, but he stole that red saber from Master Infli’a and made it bleed. It hates and fears him.

This is also likely why the Jedi emphasize control above all else: they don’t really need power or strength that much if the saber is doing 90% of the work for them. They just need to guide its path. Vader can probably get away with being reckless because of his plasteel armor and robot limbs (when Luke hit his armor in ESB it bounced right off). Instead of practicing restraint, as the Jedi did, he just cuts his son’s hand off when he wants to disarm him (eh? eh??). Severing limbs was typically a last resort for the Jedi, the final way to end a fight without killing your opponent, which is why it’s so tragic that Obi-Wan has to cut off so goddamn many to protect those he loves. It gets to the point that he’s pretty blase about the whole thing by the time of ANH. Vader does it to scold his kid. He’s at his farthest point in his fall here.

Anyway, the lightsaber physics of the sequels ended up REALLY bugging me because of this. Sure, they were hardly realistic in the earlier films, but at least they were consistent. This video essay makes a lot of great points, the primary one being that WHY IS NO ONE FUCKING DYING WHEN THEY GET HIT BY A LIGHTSABER. Finn should have lost the use of his legs, at the very least, and Kylo’s skull should have split open like a ripe melon. The REASON the comics emphasized that Asajj was showing off when she gave Anakin his facial scar is because it takes incredible precision to do that to someone without instakilling them, much less leaving him the use of his eye. Rey swung that shit at him like a baseball bat and Kylo was totally fine! 

AAAAANYWAY, this is yet another reason in a fucklong list of why the Order has to start its training so young: so those cute lil babies don’t accidentally kill everyone with their Space Powers when they throw a tantrum or cut off something important whenever they get in a fight.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 3

Word count: 15k+ LMAOOOO

TW: Sex, ptsd, abandonment

A/N: I KNOW I DELAYED MY PUBLICATION!! So i’m very thankful for all your support and patience!!! I will be posting outfit pics after this, heheh. You guys are honestly the best. I love your enthusiasm. Keep it coming!! 

Masterlist

Ao3

The deep heat that penetrated your skin and into your muscles was a relief as you rubbed Tiger Balm onto your shoulders and the back of your stiff neck. The mentol of the ointment smelled strong, yet it made you feel relaxed.

Your muscles were feeling tense for a while, largely contributed to the fact that you patrol much more often now that you were done with highschool and was waiting for when University lectures started. Perhaps you could go for a spa or massage. Bruce would definitely pay for your indulgence.

Even though it had been over a year, you were still the relatively new Robin. Such a drastic change in lifestyle wasn’t easy to get used to. The training, the patrols, the constant vigilance, constant analysis. You still felt like it was your first week.

Standing in front of your window, you tried to look for the full moon. But the night was too cloudy, and you sensed a storm was coming soon based on the way the trees outside swayed brutally in the wind. It was three in the morning, and you had returned from patrol.

Jason waited for you like usual outside his room in the Cave, but this time, he didn’t follow you up to your room. It must have been a rough day for him. Dick had told you that Jason went a little bit too hard at the Cave gym that evening, almost injuring himself if Dick hadn’t stepped in to help.

So there you were left alone with your own thoughts that night. You were so used to having Jason in the room with you, that now you felt a bit lonely without him.

You frowned. You thought you had heard footsteps in the distance, but now they were gone. Shrugging to yourself, you concluded that must have been Dick returning to his room for the night.

The door slammed open and you jumped in surprise.

But before you could turn around in response, you felt a pair of arms around your waist, pulling you close to a hard, warm body.

Jason sobbed silently into your back, his forehead resting on your right shoulder. You didn’t ask him why, you didn’t say any words of comfort. Instead, you put your hands over his and squeezed tightly, as tight as how your chest felt.

After fifteen minutes, he finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “It’s just- it’s been haunting me more these past few days.”

“What has?”

“The nightmares,” he gave a watery reply, “Or- I just can’t stop thinking about it. Even during the day.”

You pursed your lip. “Is it the same one?”

“It always is,” he whispered solemnly, “All the time.”

***

Again, your hair was soaking.

During any other nights of stakeouts in the pouring Gotham rain, you would have complained or wished you brought a shower cap with you. But that night, you were silent.

On the rooftop of a warehouse in the loading bay of Dixon Docks, you and Batman were crouching low near the edges of the roof, using the cement wall that rose to your hips when you were standing as a shield from the two other armed guards on the roof of the building across from yours.

The informant had told Batman that a load of weapons were coming in that night, but he didn’t know what time. So there you were, waiting in the cold wet weather, slowly going into your second hour already.

Anxious and bored, you clipped open your cape and dropped it to the ground for you to sit on. It was drenched and that made it even heavier than it already was.

“Bruce,” you spoke up.

“Batman when we’re in uniform,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you said, “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, water droplets running down from the sharp tip of his cowled nose.

“Have you ever thought of- of killing Joker?”

The sound of water against concrete provided much cover for your voice, and you weren’t sure if Bruce had answered or not.

“All the time,” he finally did.

“But…?” you prompted.

“But that would be the start of something much worse,” he said solemnly, gazing in the distance.

You waited for him to explain, but he never did.

“What does that mean?” you probed, “I’m not saying all of them, Bruce. Just him.”

“Batman.”

“What?”

“It’s Batman when we’re out.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Batman. Just Joker. Just for what he did. All the things he did.”

He answered you with silence.

“Look, I know your rationale, and I understand it, I really do. A lot of these people, they didn’t ask for this. They didn’t ask to be desperate enough to have to choose to be a criminal. Hell, even Pyg can’t help it. He’s got.. Schizophrenia or something, right? But Joker… He’s got no excuse. The man is plain evil. And he’s better off dead.”

“We don’t know enough about Joker to rule it out as plain evil,” Batman tried to rationalize with you, “And we don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. That’s not our job. That’s not anyone’s job.”

The rain came down hard, and it sounded like white noise as you registered what Batman told you. He was still defending Joker.

“What if I told you I wanted to kill him?” you whispered, so low that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to catch your words.

“Then I’ll stop you.”

“No,” you tried to keep your voice from breaking, “You wouldn’t. Not if- not if you knew. Not if you truly knew what he did to Jason.”

You saw him clench his jaw, but he left you with no reply.

“I want him dead, Bruce,” you grit, “I want to rip him apart and scrape every single cell in his body against every surface of this planet, Bruce. I want him to feel everything that he did.”

“Robin, for the last time-”

Oh, no. Don’t you dare.

“When we’re on patrol, it’s Bat-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” you yelled, standing up on your feet in anger, forgetting where you were at that moment.

“Robin, down!”

You felt it first before you heard it.

A sharp pain that vibrated through your bones. You felt the pain power through you from your back, just a few inches below your shoulder, and then you fell forward. You tried to break the fall with both your arms, but your right arm couldn’t move, so you fell almost flat on your face into the ground.

And then you heard it, the loud BANG of a gun, Batman yelling something in the distance and then disappearing, more gun shots, and then footsteps rushing towards you.

“Robin,” he said with urgency in his voice, “Are you okay?”

“Can’t- breathe- pain- ow-” you gasped, trying hard to manage with shallow breaths, because every time you inhaled, the pain became more intense.

“We need to get you back. Can you move?”

“I- I think so-” you tried to move your legs, wincing when you moved your upper body. Batman lifted you up by gripping onto your left arm, pulling you to your feet.

“I’ll carry you to the Batmobile,” he stated, “You can’t grapple like this.”

You nodded, shame and guilt burning into you as he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry.

***

“Alfred!” Bruce’s voice boomed loudly in your ear as he carried you out the vehicle, echoing back at you in the Cave.

He rushed you to one side of the cave, where there always was a bed and a very complete first aid kit- that shouldn’t even be called first aid anymore. It was where Alfred would perform emergency medical interventions straight after patrol, and then only after that, the said patient would be moved to the infirmary upstairs in the manor for recuperation.

You were hanging upside down over Bruce’s shoulder, ass jutting out in the air. Honestly, the embarrassment would have been the most painful thing about the whole ordeal if you were used to getting shot like Dick or Bruce was.

From the countless times you saw them injured, you always thought getting shot was no big deal. They handled it well, and then even a week later, they would be back in uniform.

That was miscalculation on your side. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, they just got used to the pain.

Because the bullet shoved into your shoulder blade right now hurt like a mother fucker. You knew it didn’t even hit your lung, but you couldn’t breathe because of the pain. You felt lightheaded, and your current position was not helping.

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw Jason stand up from his box, rushing to you.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.

Bruce put you down gently on the bed, the change in position making you cry out and groan as you sat upright.

“What the hell happened, Bruce?!” Jason yelled.

For the first time ever since getting to know Bruce Wayne, you saw him stunned as he looked at Jason.

“Well?!” he pushed.

Bruce took off his cowl, and set it aside. “She got shot.”

“How?” Jason hissed, “Where?”

“Shoulder blade- I don’t think it’s fatal. You can calm down.”

“Calm- calm down?” Jason’s nose flared in anger. “This happened on your watch, Bruce! Need I remind you what happened the last time something went wrong with a Robin on your watch?!”

Bruce didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he clenched his jaw tight, eyes looking down.

“It- it was my fault,” you panted, “I took off my cape. I practically asked them to shoot at me. Was being stupid.”

“What’s the cape got to do with anything?”

“It- yours- yours wasn’t bulletproof?” you asked out of curiosity. Anything to distract you from the pain.

“No,” Jason grit.

“Oh my- what happened?” Alfred finally arrived, immediately opening the first aid kit that was the size of a goddamn cabin suitcase.

“BW to right scapula,” Bruce turned from Jason to assist Alfred, “.22 calibre.”

Alfred sighed in relief. “Very well. We are well stocked on Lidocaine, so this won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you squeaked

Using a special pair of scissors, Alfred cut through the back of your uniform to expose the injured area.

“Why were you being stupid?” Jason walked over to stand in front of you.

“I just- we- we got into an argument,” you avoided eye contact and played with your thumbs.

“What about?”

“No- argh!” you felt a burn in your back. “A little warning next time, Alfred. It’s my first bullet wound, you know.”

“My apologies, Miss.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer.

You locked eyes with Bruce for a moment, who was hovering behind Jason.

“Nothing. It was stupid. Something about my cape and how it was too cold,” you lied.

Jason stared deep into your eyes intensely.

He definitely was not convinced.

“I will be injecting the anesthesia now. It will hurt for a moment or so.”

“Okay, Alfred.”

“Take deep breath… Hold.”

“Hnng,” you whimpered as you felt another sharp pain.

Jason let out a heavy breath, and muttered, “Jesus.”

“We shall wait for a few minutes for the anesthesia to start its effects before I attempt to extract the bullet.”

“Sit next to me, Jay,” you smiled, patting the space next to you.

“I’m fine where I am,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Then, his eyes softened, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve survived worse. You’ll… Get through this.”

“Is that an attempt to comfort me?” you laughed.

“Maybe,” he frowned.

“Well, I’m all good. Anesthesia is kicking in. I don’t feel it much anymore,” you told him.

“Good,” he gave you a stiff nod, “You shouldn’t have to feel any sort of pain. No one should.”

His eyes fluttered away from yours as your heart sank.

Bruce pursed his lips in hesitation before he attempted to say anything. “Jason…”

“Only she gets to call me that,” his snapped at Bruce.

You felt a little bad, but at the same time you couldn’t help but a feel a little happy the way you were the special one.

“Okay, son. I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly, “For… For everything.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jason choked.

“I should have been better,” Bruce continued, “God, I should have done more.”

“I said I don’t care anymore,” Jason grit, “But I swear, Bruce, I will murder you if you let another one of us slip through your fingers again.”

“I assure you, you wouldn’t have to. I would… myself...” Bruce sighed, “But duly noted. I’m sorry.”

This time, the apology was directed to you.

“No,” you shook your head, “It was my fault. I kept… I kept accidentally saying your name, and I was emotional… I’m just a newbie, Bruce. It’s not your fault. I acted rashly.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed, “Which is why I’m taking away your patrol privileges. Only twice a week now until I think you’re ready again for more responsibility.”

“Twice a week?” you groaned, “I mean I understand, but even when I was starting out it was three times!”

“Yes, you have been demoted,” Bruce smirked. He fucking smirked, “For calling me by name in the field three times, and sabotaging a mission. Now there are dozens of illegal and untraceable weapons in Gotham’s black market. Or do you not think this is an adequate disciplinary action?”

“It’s adequate,” you grumbled.

“No more taking off capes during patrol,” he added, “Even during storms.”

“Well, maybe you could make it lighter or waterproof then,” you retorted.

“I will see to it,” he nodded, “That is all. Let me know the damage, Alfred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I used to get way worse,” Jason muttered when Bruce walked away.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred chimed in, getting started on extracting the bullet lodged in your back. “I remember many arguments. And broken china.”

“You broke things?” you chuckled at Jason.

“Yeah,” the corner of his lips twitched upwards, though it was tough to tell whether he was actually smiling, or it was because of the scar that twisted his lips upwards.

“Actually,” Alfred interrupted, “Master Bruce would also break things. When you’re gone, that is.”

“Did he?” Jason blinked in surprise.

“Oh, yes,” Alfred hummed, “You created much ruckus in the household, Master.”

You didn’t miss how Alfred too avoided his name.

“Bruce has always been nice to me,” you defended.

“Maybe because you never caused trouble,” Jason said, “Not the way I did.”

You now felt Alfred digging into your back. It was an odd sensation, but at least you didn’t feel pain.

“He still very much loves you despite it all,” Alfred said quietly.

Jason didn’t reply to that, and now an uncomfortable silence hung over the three of you.

“Hey, at least now we all got matching scars, huh?” you grinned, trying to break the tension. “I’m pretty sure each and every one of us has a gunshot wound. Or two. Or three. Or-”

“I have more than just gunshot wounds,” Jason stated.

“Yes, yes, torture and all that,” you waved your hand in dismissal, earning a small chuckle from Jason. “But really, though. It’s like a right of passage for us vigilantes, huh? It’s like I’m finally official now. Do you have one, Alfred?”

“More than one,” he informed you.

“Wokay, buddy, it’s not a competition,” you rolled your eyes, “Talk about a cut throat.”

“You’re really irritating,” Jason commented.

“But you love me anyway,” you grinned. “Do you love me, Alfred?”

“I suppose I have no choice but to say yes, Miss,” Alfred retorted.

“Aww, don’t be like that.”

“It’s finished,” Alfred announced. “Bullet has been extracted, and your wound sutured.”

“That was fast.”

“The bullet is in one piece,” he said, “Would you like me to make a necklace from it? That’s what Master Dick did with his first.”

“Hell yeah!” you looked at Jason, “What did you do with yours?”

“I dug it out and threw it back at my dad,” he monotoned.

“Wait… what?” your smile fell. You knew his dad was a criminal who went to prison, but you didn’t know anything about their relationship.

A rustle of plastic. Alfred kept himself busy.

“Just get some rest,” Jason sighed. He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Don’t strain yourself.”

His hand lingered there on your cheek, going downwards to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of you getting shot at,” he whispered.

“You and I both,” you snickered.

“I’m serious,” he frowned, “Be more careful. You’re too much of an idiot.”

“Okay, I will,” you smiled. It was nice to see that he cared. That he showed he cared.

“You get the bed all to yourself tonight. You’ll want the space,” he informed you, dropping his hand.

“I don’t mind if you-”

“Sleep facing down, keep a glass of water close,” he interrupted, walking away to his cube. “Goodnight.”

He closed his door.

You waited for a second, thinking of what Jason had said earlier.

“I take it his relationship with his dad was not good?” you asked Alfred.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Jesus,” you let out a breath, “He’s been through so much, hasn’t he? Guy can’t catch a break.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “It would be nice for him to be at peace. Perhaps, for once in his life.”

***

“There’s a stack of pancakes, amazingly greasy bacon, berries, cream, butter, maple syrup, waffles- and you’re eating cereal?” you judged.

“Why, my naive sister, don’t you know?” Dick replied, “I need to stick with my reputation, for I am the known cereal killer.”

“That joke has lost its charm after the first thousand times it’s been said, tweeted, and shared online,” you brandished your fork at him.

Dick was over at the manor that Saturday morning, two days after your injury. He had arrived the night before to visit and congratulate you on your first gunshot wound. As expected, he had tried to hug you. But Jason was there, and when Dick rushed towards you, he had stuck out his leg and tripped him over.

“She’s still in pain, you idiot,” Jason had snorted before descending back downstairs to hide away in his box.

Dick on the other hand, had looked up at you from the floor- despite how he obviously should have dodged or maneuvered- with tears in his eyes. “That was the longest thing he had ever said to me.”

Rolling your eyes, you had helped Dick back up.

“I started it!” Dick shouted at you, “No one believes me! I updated my facebook status all those years ago, some reporter reported it, and then suddenly everyone was tweeting it as if they made it up themselves.”

“I’m sorry, Dick, but that’s just not true,” you shook your head. Dick had been trying to convince you he was the trend setter for a lot of things in the past.

“I’m so disappointed in your lack of faith in me. I swear, man, I-”

Dick broke off and looked behind you.

Turning around, you saw Jason standing there with a hand in his hair. “Room for one more?”

“Of course,” Bruce said first, “I’ll have Alfred get you-”

“No, I’m on it,” Dick scrambled to his feet and dashed to the kitchen.

Jason pulled up a chair next to you. His movements were stiff. He was obviously nervous to be joining everyone for breakfast.

“Here,” Dick passed a plate and utensils to him.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered.

“No problem,” he grinned wide, like a kid getting his head pat after winning a trophy.

Jason stacked pancakes and bacon and everything else on his plate.

“What?” he grunted at you.

“Yo- you- you planning to finish all that?” you gaped.

“This?” he looked at his plate, “Yes. And then I’m gonna go for seconds.”

“Okay,” you laughed disbelievingly.

You, Dick, and Bruce made very brief eye contact with each other, and then smiled into your respective plates and continued to eat.

“Uh, Bruce?” Jason spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… Can I move back into my old room?” he asked.

Bruce blinked once. “Yes. Of course. When would you like to move in?”

“As soon as we finish here, I can get my stuff from downstairs,” he informed Bruce.

“The room hasn’t been… cleaned,” Bruce said, “I can ask Alfred to prepare it for you. I left it… the way you left it.”

You only went into Jason’s old room once, out of curiosity. It was the first month you were there. After Alfred found out, he had strongly advised you to keep out because Bruce wanted to preserve it the way Jason had left it, all those years ago.

Out of respect, you stayed out of Jason’s old room and never went back in again after that.

“Then it’s fine,” Jason insisted, “I’ll change the sheets myself.”

“It’s probably dusty,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’ve had worse,” Jason shrugged.

“Indeed,” the older man nodded, “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

Silence again. But after ten minutes, Bruce asked, “Does this mean you will be sleeping in your own room instead of…”

Bruce glanced at you.

That was surprising, coming from Bruce. He usually would never ask about things that weren't his business. The fact that he did must have meant that he was either really curious, or he strongly opposed it.

“Bruce,” you hushed.

“Why?” Jason smirked now, though there was no humor in his eyes, his mouth twisting upwards into a distorted smile. “You worried about your little princess sleeping with the mentally fucked up son?”

“No,” Bruce stated, “I just realised that I never got around to having the talk with either of you. I was wondering if I should.”

“Bruce!” you gasped, cheeks heating up. “Come on!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Jason grit, stabbing his pancake with his fork almost too violently, “Joker fucked me up in more ways than one.”

Silence. Longer than it should have been.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dick was the one to break it, his soft warm voice attempting to coax and comfort.

You glanced at Bruce. On the surface, it seemed that he was showing no reaction, but you saw the way he gripped his knife, his knuckles white.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason scowled.

Bruce rose from his chair, more robotic than usual. “Just… tell me if you need anything. I’ll be at the computers.”

He left with an odd expression on his face.

***

“Tired of walking up the stairs to come see me?” you teased, leaning against the door to Jason’s room.

He was wiping his bedside table with a piece of wet cloth when he glared at you.

“I came in here once,” you told him, looking at the books aligned neatly on the shelves, the photos he had arranged on his desk. His laptop opened but not switched on, with a stack of papers next to it weighed down by Bruce’s fountain pen he probably stole. “Then never again when I found out that Bruce was kind of anal about people coming in here.”

You remembered that the bed was made, and that the sheets were blue. Now they were maroon.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Oh, forgive Bruce. He was suffering the whole time, too,” he mocked.

“Dickhead,” you retorted, “No. I just noticed that you must have had your laptop on the last time I was in here. I was wondering what you were doing when Alfred came in and told me to get out.”

“Hmm,” he frowned, looking towards his desk, “I don’t remember what I was doing on it. Maybe my essay?”

A smile crept on your lips. You walked over to the desk. “Switch it on,” you grinned.

He narrowed his eyes and came over. It took a minute for the laptop to show the homescreen. The icon was a picture of him from when you assumed to be two years ago , with Dick next to him. Both grinning at the camera.

His smile was different back then. So were his eyes.

“Huh,” you observed, “It was on sleep this whole time? Charging? The battery’s gotta be destroyed by now.”

Jason quickly typed in his password, and then logged in.

The screen showed exactly what Jason had been up to on his laptop two years ago. He slammed it shut, but not before you got a glimpse of the screen.

Porn. Jason was watching porn.

A kinky video too, now that you were thinking about it.

You laughed out loud. His eyes were wide in horror, and- holy shit. He was blushing! His ears went red, and a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he scowled, looking away embarrassed.

That made you double up and laugh even louder.

“I was sixteen, come on,” he groaned, “Every sixteen year old was horny.”

“No- it’s - it’s not that,” you gasped for air, tears in your eyes, “All this while- all this while, I’ve been so fucking curious. And now I know- it was- it was on PornHub. Jason! Your laptop was on PornHub for two whole years!”

You continued your fit of giggles, before- “Ah! Ow, ow,” you suddenly winced. The injury on your back was pulsating pain while you laughed hard.

“Are you okay?” Jason rushed to your side, panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

“I’m fine, Jesus, calm down,” you straightened up and took deep breaths, “It hurt when I laughed, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he worried.

“I’m okay, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s no big deal.”

His eyes searched your face for any hints of pain, and then he sighed. “I… Came back up here so I can be closer to you… Just- just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” you frowned.

“If anything happened to you,” he muttered, looking away again.

“What’s going to happen to me up here?” you asked, “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I don’t know… What if you.. Fal in the shower or something,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Fall in the- Jason, I’m not a grandma!” you chuckled, “I’m Robin. Trained vigilante. I can handle myself in my own home.”

“I was a trained vigilante too, and look where that got me,” he grit.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

“Look,” he sighed, “I just. You got shot. If you had moved a couple of inches to the right, the bullet would have hit your spine. I kept on thinking about that, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nodded. He was thinking about you dying.

You couldn’t blame him. Death and pain seemed to follow him everywhere. It was probably the only thing on his mind.

“But you don’t have to worry, okay?” you added, “I’ll be careful. Promise. Plus, now that Bruce is limiting my patrols, I get to spend more time with you at night! And I won’t be so tired in the morning. What do you say, you wanna go out later? Maybe somewhere aside from the park?”

“I, uh, I’m actually following Alfred to the grocery store later,” he said, “He says I should pick out ingredients since I eat the most in the house. It’d be easier for him to plan my meals if I were there for him to ask as well.”

“Oh!” your eyes widen in surprise. “That’s great, then.”

You grinned widely. Now that he’s going out with Alfred, it was also one step closer to him going out alone.

“Yeah,I guess,” he shrugged, “I’m just gonna clear out a few more shit from here.”

“You mean delete your browsing history?” you teased.

“What for?” he snickered, “Not like you’re coming anywhere close to my computer.”

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t judge. Much,” you winked. “I need to change my bandages. See ya.”

You found yourself worrying less and less about Jason lately, and he found himself worrying about you more and more.

Despite being more independent now, he had started to get clingy.

At first, you would have thought that Jason Todd and ‘clingy’ were two things that would never coexist together. On the contrary, ever since your injury, he wouldn’t leave your side unless it was to go out with Alfred.

You stayed home for the next two weeks for recuperation, and it was basically two weeks of Jason. You woke up, he was there next to you. You ate, he was there finishing your food. You watched TV, he was there fighting for the remote control.

But when you finally did heal and got to go out for patrol- that was the worst.

“He has been anxious the whole night,” Alfred had whispered to you once you came back. Jason had approached you with a serious look on his face, examined you up and down, nodded, and then went back upstairs.

“Hurry up, I’m sleepy,” he had grumbled, leaving you in shock.

You would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Jason and he showed that he cared enough about you to be worried. So you were actually quite pleased.

So with all the clinginess and worries and occasional outings with either you or Alfred, you weren’t ready for when he suddenly disappeared while you were sending out some emails to the Gotham University staff.

“Uh, have you seen Jason?” you walked up to Bruce who was down at the Cave computers.

“No,” he frowned, “He doesn’t come down here much after he moved upstairs unless he’s waiting for you. Has Alfred not seen him?”

“I haven’t asked, but he wasn’t in his room, or mine, or the gym, or the kitchen either,” you bit your lip anxiously, “I texted him but he hasn’t replied. I’ll go find Alfred and ask.”

“Let me know.”

You found Alfred in the study, taking and dusting books to give to Jason.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he answered your question, “The last time I saw him was during breakfast. I have been up here since.”

“Shit, I can’t find him,” you started to panic.

“I’m sure he is fine,” Alfred tried to reassure you, “He’s been much better lately. He knows how to take care of himself.”

“I’ll call him or something,” you worried, going down to wait in the living room.

He never picked up, so you waited there anxiously for the next two hours, barely paying attention to whatever documentary that was playing.

Then at around five, he came waltzing in from the front door, fucking whistling a low tune.

“Jason!” you stood up.

“Hey,” he greeted you casually. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s- what’s wrong?” you repeated, “You just disappeared. For hours. You didn’t answer my texts or calls. Where were you?”

“Out,” he told you.

“O-out?” you asked, “Like, alone?”

“Yeah?” he frowned, “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, I just- I was just wondering where you were,” you breathed and sat back down, “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere interesting,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the sofa, “The park at first. Then the grocery store. Then I parked somewhere and walked around Central Gotham.”

“You drove?” your eyes widen.

“Yeah, your car,” he grinned, “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t,” you smiled, “How was it? Your day out?”

“Fine,” he simply said, “No big deal.”

He said that and tried to look modest, but you could see from his expression that he was pretty proud of himself. You had learned how to read his emotions better, and that was definitely a genuine, non-sarcastic, non-mocking smile he had on.

“No big deal, huh?” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smirked at you. “Why? Were you worried?”

“No way,” you rolled your eyes, “Why would I be?”

He narrowed his eyes and took out his phone. “Nineteen missed calls. Six text messages. ‘Jason, where are you?’ ‘Jason, I’m serious.’ ‘Why aren’t you picking up your phone? Are you in trouble?’ ‘Please call me back, I’m worried.’ ‘Don’t be an asshole and pick up you massive prick.’ And last but not least- I think this one is the best, by the way. Just ‘Dickhead.’”

“Well, why didn’t you pick up? Or text me back?” you demanded.

“Had it on silent. Didn’t want any distractions,” he pocketed his phone, “Wasn’t worried, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, “I thought you… Left or something.”

“Left?” he frowned.

“Yeah, I thought you packed your bags and left us,” you looked away.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

You simply shrugged.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you heard him softly say, “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Because I’d be super pissed off.”

“And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, huh?” he nudged you lightly, “Or I’d lose sponge bath privileges.”

“God, that was one time, and it was because you stank!” you groaned, “Never again.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You looked into his eyes then, twinkling playfully at you.

“What if I got sick?” he smirked, “Or shot? And I couldn’t get to the shower? And I started to stink so bad you wouldn’t want to stay next to me?”

“Then Alfred can give you your sponge bath,” you rolled your eyes.

“But what if I want it to be you?” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper.

“Then,” you leaned in closer, “I’d make you beg for it.”

He chuckled and left it at that.

***

The soft sheets wrapped around your almost bare legs, gently caressing your smooth skin. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness already, since you’ve been laying in bed for about half an hour, staring at the ceiling.

“Has Gotham always been so bright?” Jason grumbled from next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“The city. It was so bright,” he complained.

“No, Gotham is gloomy, Jason. It’s a whole Gotham thing. Gloomy, rainy, cloudy, shithole,” you went on, “Streets are sticky for some reason. And then there’s always that weird smell going on. You ever notice that smell?”

“Seemed bright to me,” he ignored your question.

“That’s,” you turned on your side to face him. You could see the silhouette of his side profile looking upwards. The bump at his crooked nose bridge, the dip of his deep set eyes, even the length of his thick eyelashes. “Because you have been cooped up in the house for too long.”

“I’ve been out with you,” he mumbled, turning to face you as well. “To the park. The grocery store. It’s just the city. Seemed brighter.”

“Maybe because you’re looking at it from a new point of view?” you guessed, “Changed person and all, yada yada.”

“Maybe,” he snorted, “Doubt it. But whatever. It’s not important.”

From the new position, you were now closer to him. You could feel the slight brushes of his skin against yours whenever he took a breath.

“You don’t always have to dismiss something,” you told him softly, “Just because you can’t find the answer, doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“Who the hell cares if Gotham is brighter or not?” he argued, “It doesn’t affect anyone. Not even me.”

“The questions you ask say a lot about the type of person you are,” you reasoned.

“And?” he breathed, “What type of person am I?”

You bit your lip when you saw his eyes flutter to your lips for just a second. “Perceptive. Introspective. Kind of an asshole, but that’s okay.”

He let out a breathy laugh that fanned warm breath across your face. Taking a deep breath, you sighed as you looked back at him, for no reason at all. You looked down at his lips for just a second and noticed it was ever so slightly parted. Relaxed.

“If you kiss me, I’ll bite your tongue off,” he stated.

You blinked. And then burst into a fit of giggles. “What makes you think I was going to kiss you?”

“You had that look in your eye,” he smirked, “The one that says that you wanted to kiss me. Don’t. I’m not joking. I’ll bite your tongue off.”

“You’re such a scary man, Jason,” you smiled at him endearingly.

“Really? I thought I had charm.”

“Charming people don’t say that they’re going to bite someone’s tongue off,” you laughed, “Dick would never do that.”

“Dick,” he snorted, “What does he know?”

“He knows not to say something like that to someone,” you grinned.

“But you kind of like it when I threaten you,” he pointed out.

“What? Since when?”

“Sweetheart, I technically choked you,” he reminded you, “I keep on saying that I’ll kill you over the smallest things. It’s either you’re dumb or kinky. I think I know which you’d rather be.”

“I’m not dumb, but the kinky one here is definitely you,” you insisted, “I saw the title of that video, Jason. Girl gets-”

“Stop,” he interjected you, “Don’t even. Ever.”

“My point exactly,” you grinned proudly at your win. “You’re the one with the kinky porn videos. You’re the one with the boner almost every night.”

“Can you blame me,” he groaned, “I’m a sexually frustrated eighteen year old who can’t bring himself to come. Give me a break.”

“You’re dragging me down with you,” you whined, “You think I’m not hormonal, too? I’m at the peak of my hormonal mess and my monthly cycles don’t help either.”

He let out a long sigh. “You can kick me out any time you want, you know. I won’t threaten you. Much.”

“I don’t mind you sleeping here,” you told him honestly, “I mean, it’s got its pros and cons. Cons like getting me all hot and bothered is the same category as you taking up all the space and stealing the covers.”

“And the pros?”

“You get to sleep peacefully,” you shrugged.

“But there’s nothing in it for you.”

I get to sleep next to you. I get to feel your arms around me.

You didn’t say that out loud. You were open with him, but not that open.

Instead, you turned around to face your back towards him. “I like cuddles. I used to cuddle with Dick when I was the one who had nightmares. So just shut up and cuddle me.”

The bed shifted, and you heard rustling, then Jason’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, flushed against his front.

“Jesus- Jason!” you whined.

“I told you, I can’t help it!” he defended himself.

You squirmed against him, unintentionally grinding your ass against his crotch, boner poking directly into your flesh.

“Hnng. Fuck. Stop moving so much, you’re making it worse.”

The sound he made and the ‘fuck’ he dropped sent shooting heat directly to your core.

Fucking hormones.

“You fucking stop sounding like that,” you shot back at him.

“What? Sounding like what?”

“All moany and breathy and- and swearing and shit.”

“What? Breathy?” he breathed.

“Yes, like you ran a fucking mile,” you said. “You’re panting like crazy, Jason.”

“So are you.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am- fuck you,” you groaned, pushing back against him in reflex.

His grip on your waist tightened, but he chuckled. “If only.”

“Shut up,” you panted. “Ugh. This is literally peak horny teen phase.”

“Dry humping? Definitely. Just- just stop for a sec, Jesus.”

Your heavy breaths filled the dark and silent room. But only for a few seconds.

“Okay- I’m sorry- I can’t,” you sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom to… Relieve myself,” you winced at how bad that sounded.

“Like, to pee? Or..?”

“To fucking come, Jesus Christ,” you pressed the top of your nose bridge. “You may be able to hold it in, but I can’t.”

“Stay,” he instructed, catching your wrist.

“I said I can’t hold it in, you piece o-”

“Then don’t. Make yourself come. But do it here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it back, looking at him perplexed. “Like… The other day?”

He considered it for a second. “No. Not like the other day.”

“Then what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a mischievous grin. “I’ll drag the chair to face the bed and watch you.”

You immediately felt yourself blush, though the heat also went to your belly. “W-what? No way. That’s too embarrassing.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” he shrugged.

“You haven’t seen my… That,” you winced.

“That?” he smirked.

“Yes, that,” you repeated, “You haven’t seen it, and it’s embarrassing if you watched.”

“Sure, I haven’t seen yours,” he went on, “But a pussy is still a pussy, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn’t think yours is special- I’m sure it is.”

You pursed your lips, thoughts running quickly through your mind. On one hand, it was the first time you would bare yourself to someone else and you were nervous and shy about it. On the other hand, the thought of Jason watching you get yourself off was hot as fuck.

“Fine,” you conceded, horniness taking over your shyness, “But on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he whispered, sitting up and leaning in closer to you.

“You gotta take out your dick and show it to me too,” you grinned.

“That,” he got off the bed and walked across the room to pull a chair from your desk, “I can do.”

He switched on the lamp on your desk, illuminating the room dimly with warm light and positioned the chair to face the foot of your bed and sat down, grinning so unbelievably wide for his standards that you were sure his cheeks would start to hurt soon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled down his sweatpants to his knees, revealing his cock with a small slap on his pubic bone- erect, thick, long, hard, and judging from the way the light from the little light of the desk lamp reflected on it, wet at the tip with precum.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of him smirking away, leaning comfortably back into your chair, legs now slightly parted. Shirtless Jason was something you had trouble getting used to, your imagination running wild whenever you saw him in that state.

But your view of him right now? You made sure to burn it into your mind because that would be your permanent spank bank material.

How you wished you could ask if you could take a picture.

“I know I’m a sight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “But you’re the one who said that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

He was right. Since Jason took off his pants, you were already dizzy with heat that spread from your core.

“Jesus, Jason,” you breathed, hand cupping your own cunt and grinding it to relieve some pressure. “You’re insanely- just- Jesus.

He smiled at you softly, his hands both on each respective arm rest, not touching himself at all. “You don’t have to take off anything if you don’t want to. You can just do it under the sheets if you want.”

“Hell no, you changed my mind,” you shook your head, proceeding to take off your sleeping shorts, “Now I’m just horny as fuck, I don’t care anymore.”

You threw your shorts to the floor and leaned back onto some propped pillows. Spreading your legs slowly, you welcomed the cold air that brushed softly against your folds.

“Holy shit,” you heard him gasp.

And then out of nowhere, you started to get nervous again. Your hands went between your legs and hid your pussy from his view.

Jason must have noticed your change in body language, because he sat up straight and tried to reassure you again. “I know it’s your first time showing yourself to someone- hell, it’s mine too. But you don’t have to worry. You’ve already seen me at my worst. I have way more reason to be embarrassed than you do. And right now you’re showing your best to me. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and what do you know? You felt yourself easing back into the mood again.

“O-okay,” you nodded, and then slowly spread your legs wider, removing your hands from obstructing his view.

You noticed him lean forward, his heavy breaths audible to you in the silence of the room. With much more confidence than before, you started to slowly circle your clit, breathing out a small moan.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

You were wet, wetter than you thought you would be, and Jason cursing while watching you touch yourself did wonders to your body.

Increasing the pace to one you were most used to, you let out another moan, louder than before.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he gasped, “I can see how wet you are from here.”

“It’s your fault,” you whined, “You made me like this.”

“Well, you made me like this,” he groaned, gesturing to his raging erection. It was twitching against his lower stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on his skin as it oozed precum.

“Jason,” you purred, slipping a finger inside of you while you rubbed on your clit.

“Fucking- hnng-”

Glancing back at him, you saw the way he gripped the arm rest, knuckles white, muscles taut. He looked like he was being tortured.

You let out a laugh.

“What?” he angrily bit at you.

“You look like you’re in pain,” you giggled, fingers still working at your cunt.

“I am,” he grit, “My cock wants to be touched so bad, it hurts. You make my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” your eyes fluttered close at the sudden spark. You really did like it when he talked dirty to you.

“I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life,” he groaned, “You make me so hard, baby.”

Baby.

He had never called you that before, but you didn’t want it to be the first and last time.

It wasn’t like his ‘sweetheart’, where he would call you that even in front of Alfred or Dick or Bruce. It wasn’t an innocent nickname or term of endearment that he threw around just for the sake of it.

It was the way it just naturally came to him as the word rolled off his tongue, the way his voice husky and laced with lust made it sound dirty, a secret that just both of you shared.

It was the way he breathed it out, the way he almost stuttered when he pronounced the consonants, the way it was a mix of a small whine and a groan.

It was enough to drive you to the edge of your climax.

“Jason,” you let out a breathy whisper so soft you didn’t know if he heard it.

“You want to come don’t you, baby?” he coaxed you, “I’m not going to come, so you better come for me in my place, sweetheart.”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me hard. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

The finger that you had fucking your own cunt was dripping wet as you fucked yourself harder, as you rubbed yourself faster, as you watched the way Jason bit his lip hard enough to draw blood while he watched you with hooded eyes, cock twitching and begging for attention that he wouldn’t give.

His eyes locked with your own.

“Come for me, baby.”

And you did. Your breaths stuttering, your mouth opened in a silent scream, your toes curling at the white hot sensations that spread from them to the rest of your body as your pussy clenched and fluttered over your single finger.

“Holy fuck-”

“Fuck,” you panted, a wave of fatigue crashed over you as you came down from your high.

You looked over at Jason, and to your surprise, he had his head in his hands, his elbows on his knee. Silent, but obviously filled with tension.

“Jason, are you okay?” you voiced your concern.

“Yeah- just- give me a minute,” he answered with a strained voice.

Watching Jason with worry, you saw the way his hands were also fisting and tugging slightly at his hair.

“Jason-”

He got up and pulled up his pants, and then walked to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of ice cold water to stick my dick in,” he snapped, “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

***

There were a number of scenarios that you felt were so ridiculous, you didn't think it would actually happen in real life- until it did.

One of them was the fact that you got adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, whom you later found out was the Batman himself- accurately confirming the online conspiracy theories you had laughed at on Reddit at four in the morning- and then you becoming Robin. It was so utterly ridiculous, that even then you were questioning whether or not it was all a dream and you were going to wake up in your bed that had springs poking into your back and sheets that were definitely infested with dust mites.

Another scenario was the current president becoming president in the first place- which was a shock to everyone else as much as it was to you at the time.

Which brought you to the current scenario you never thought would happen. In fact, it was so random that the thought itself never even crossed your mind.

Jason Todd sitting across the dining table from you with a murderous glare in his eyes, holding a plate of red velvet cake, wearing a bright pink glittery party hat that only slightly ruffled his gelled hair, a sequined pink tank top that oddly suited his physique and bright pink eyeshadow that brought out the blue in his eyes. His stare was directed to both you, and Alex who was sitting next to you.

How did you get there?

It wasn’t a party party, but more like you inviting your three friends over to the Manor in celebration of your birthday. Natalie had chosen a theme which she demanded everyone follow.

You were just finished setting the table with Dick when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Am I invited?”

Turning around, you saw Jason with his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked up.

“Well, yes,” you blinked, “Of course. I just didn’t think you’d want to be downstairs with strangers around. I’m sorry, I should have asked anyway. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes, “How many people are coming anyway?”

“Just my three friends.”

“I can handle three people.”

“But can you handle pink?” Dick interrupted, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“We have a theme, Jason,” you laughed, “You have to wear pink.”

Dick himself was sporting a tight baby pink t-shirt that had the words MY ASS IS TIGHTER THAN THIS SHIRT in black, bold, capital letters. He paired it with fuschia pink shorts that did in fact make his ass look tighter than the t-shirt.

“I don’t have anything pink,” he frowned.

You looked at Dick just as Dick looked at you.

“Fuck, I know that look,” Jason started to shake his his head, “No. No way.”

“I was in between outfits, so I brought them both,” Dick started to chat excitedly, “Let me go and grab it.”

“I don’t want to wear anything you think is nice, Grayson!” Jason yelled at him when he rushed to his room.

“Oh, his style isn’t that bad,” you defended Dick.

“Sweetheart, you weren’t around to see that God awful Nightwing suit with the frills,” Jason shot back at you.

“Hey, I was just discovering myself then,” Dick came back, “Here.”

He threw something at Jason.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way in hell.”

“Jason, you have to!” you whined and pouted at him, “Please? It’s my birthday.”

“Fucking- fine!”

And that was how you convinced Jason to put on Dick’s pink sequined tank top. The party hat and eyeshadow came next. You learned something pivotal that night.

Jason couldn’t resist it when you pouted and batted your eyelashes at him.

The doorbell rang, saving you from the argument Dick and Jason were having.

“I think the pink eyeshadow brings out the blue in your eyes-”

“Your eyes are blue, too, dumbfuck!” Jason was yelling, “Why aren’t you wearing any?”

“I’m already too pink! You’re wearing black pants- you can handle a little more.”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna-”

“We need to take a picture-”

“I will fucking murder-”

“Hey guys!” you opened the door to reveal your three pink and sparkly friends.

“Babe, you look so amazing!” Natalie squealed, “See, I knew pink was your color!”

“Pink is everyone’s color, Nat,” Sarah interjected, “But I agree, you do look good in that.”

“You guys didn’t compliment me that much when you saw me,” Alex grumbled, nudging you aside to enter without waiting for an invitation.

“Because she slays, and you don’t, Alex!” Natalie followed suit.

“I worked hard on this outfit!” Alex argued back.

You closed the door behind Sarah as your friends made their way into your home towards the living room. They have been there countless times, already familiar with your family.

“Hello there, Dick,” you heard Natalie purr.

Sarah, Alex and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice to see you again, kid,” Dick chuckled.

“Oh come on, Dick!” Natalie whined, “Stop calling me that. I’m not a-”

“Good evening Mr. Wayne,” Alex cleared his throat at Bruce’s arrival, going in for a handshake.

“It’s Bruce, lad,” Bruce smiled warmly.

You didn’t have any inappropriate thoughts for your adoptive father, but he looked good in pink.

“Thanks for having us, Bruce,” Sarah shook his hand as well.

“Yes, Bruce, thank you for- oh, hello there.”

Jason had just walked in from the kitchen, pouting and blushing over how he looked, but was caught unaware at Natalie’s greeting.

“And who are you?” she grinned, throwing a knowing look at you.

“Ah, this is my cousin’s son,” Bruce said, “He’s been staying with us for a while.”

“Jason,” Jason fucking smiled charmingly at Natalie.

Expecting the worst, you were impressed by how relaxed and at ease he looked. Shaking your head to yourself, you thought about how truly skilled and trained Jason was to be able to blend in when he tried.

“Oh,” Alex gave a sound of recognition, “So you’re Jason.”

You were also expecting Jason to throw punches the moment his name left Alex’s lips, but he only narrowed his eyes at Alex. “You.”

“Am I missing something?” Sarah asked.

Alex was grinning, and you recognized that grin. It was the grin he made whenever he was up to no good.

Oh, god.

And surely enough, he threw his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side.

“You’re the one I sent that selfie to,” Alex chuckled, “You should thank me. She would never have sent you a picture of herself half naked otherwise.”

“I don’t need a picture of her half naked when I’ve seen everything in real life.”

In the distance, you heard Dick spat out a drink you didn’t realise he had.

“Okay, I think dinner is ready,” you quickly interjected, prying yourself from Alex’s grip, paying close attention to the way Jason clenched his jaw.

You settled to sit down at the dining table, Sarah taking a seat next to you, Natalie taking a seat next to Dick. The other seat beside you was empty- until Alex rushed to sit down, beating Jason by a beat, who ended up sitting across from you in between Natalie and Bruce.

“What are you doing?” you hissed at Alex.

“You’ll thank me later,” he whispered back with a wink, leaning in a little closer than he usually did.

Sarah had gotten into a conversation with Bruce regarding New York, Natalie was flirting with Dick who seemed to enjoy the attention, which left you, Jason and Alex.

“So, Jason,” Alex spoke up.

Again, you winced internally when he said Jason’s name, but Jason merely looked up from his food and raised an eyebrow. Was this it? Did he not care for it anymore?

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, “I thought you were older.”

“The scars make me look older,” Jason’s mouth twisted into a grin, “Want to know how I got ‘em?”

“Jason,” you warned.

“I don’t want to pry,” Alex said.

“I was in a gang,” Jason smirked, “I got caught by a rival gang one time, and they shoved a knife in my mouth. That’s how I got this one.”

He pointed to the scar on his lips that twisted his smirk upwards even more. You frowned to yourself, asking the silent question. Was that what Joker did to him?

“How about the one on your nose?” Alex asked excitedly.

“Alex!” you smacked his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jason shrugged, “Someone hit me with a crowbar, broke my nose too.”

“The one near your eye?”

“Slammed my face against a wall.”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

“Cheek?”

“Huh, I don’t remember. I have so many. I think it was-”

“Stop it,” you said louder, glaring at Jason.

You didn’t want to hear how he got his injuries, you didn’t like the way he took it so easy.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason’s eyes turned soft, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You felt Alex’s stare on you, probably trying to read your emotions. He was always good at that.

“Anyway,” Alex changed the subject, “You got a girlfriend?”

You groaned internally. You didn’t know why Alex thought you would thank him later.

“No.”

“Badass guy like you, I’m sure you have a few lining up,” he coaxed.

“Hmm. Maybe just the one,” Jason smirked, looking at you.

“Oh, God,” you groaned out loud this time, feeling your ears burn with embarrassment.

“What, her?” Alex scoffed, “Nah. She doesn’t usually go for guys like you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

“Then what kind of guy does she usually go for?” Jason grit, clenching his fists around his knife a little bit too tight.

Alex snaked his arm around your waist and looked at Jason straight in the eyes before answering, “Guys like me. We used to date.”

You were going to fucking murder your best friend- if Jason didn’t murder him first.

Ever since finding Jason in that cell, you had seen many sides to him. The white hot rage that borderline insanity in his eyes for the first few weeks, the empty glassy look he had whenever he stared into space, the panic when you brought him out the first time, the lust he showed only a few nights ago, the laugh and comfort and ease that was slowly brought out which he showed not only with you anymore, but with Alfred and Dick too.

So this was the first time you got to see another expression on him.

Calm, cold and focused anger. A look that sent shivers down your spine, much scarier than when he lashed out at you and choked you a year ago when he was still unstable.

Shit.

You looked over at Alex, thinking that he would start cowering as well and finally put an end to whatever he was planning.

But Alex, the stupid dumbfuck, was still smirking at Jason with a challenging look on his face.

You were going to say something to correct him, but Alfred brought out the cake.

And that’s how you found yourself in that unbelievably dumb scenario.

The rest of the night, Jason was relatively quiet, only answering questions coming from anyone except Alex. Not like Alex was trying to talk to Jason anymore. No, he opted for a more physical approach that even raised eyebrows from Sarah and Natalie.

He started touching you, squeezing next to you on the sofa, leaning in closely to your ear to whisper unintelligible words.

And whenever you pushed him away and tried to scold him, he simply answered with a “You’ll thank me later.” or “Trust me.”

Finally the night came to an end, and with lots of tears from you, Sarah and Natalie- as it was going to be the last time you saw each other for a while. It wasn’t really a separation issue, it was just symbolic.

The four of you had been friends since elementary, and now you were finally going your own way.

You felt Jason and Dick watch your teary goodbyes from afar.

It was Alex’s turn to say his goodbye, but instead of opening his mouth, he just went in for a bone crushing hug. The two of you stayed that way for a minute, and then Alex released you.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said again, and then leaned in unexpectedly to give you a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth.

In the background, you heard Dick chuckle.

You felt yourself flush. He stepped back, winked at you, and then left.

***

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you smiled at your reflection while combing your hair at the dresser. Jason was sitting on your bed behind you- cleaned and changed. “I’m going to miss them a lot.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. Jason had been grouchy all night.

At first you thought it was the choice of outfit for him, but he seemed to not mind it in the end. And then you reckoned it was the fact that he had to be around strangers the whole night, but even now he was sour with just the both of you in your room.

Alex must have gotten to him real bad. You were definitely going to give him a piece of your mind later.

You set down your comb and walked to stand in front of him. “You okay there, buddy?”

His frown was deep when he looked up at you, and his lips were in a pout. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” you coaxed.

Suddenly, he stood up, towering above you. “You told me that there was nothing going on between you and Alex.”

“There isn’t,” you reassured, “He was just messing with you. He likes to do that when... “

“When?”

“When he thinks I like someone,” you carefully said, “He tries to make them jealous. It’s not the first time he’s done this.”

“The two of you used to go out?”

“In middle school, Jason!” you sighed exasperatedly, “For like two months before we realised we were better off as friends. He still brings it up to mess with people.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m still frustrated.”

“Why?”

“Because it worked,” he stated. “Because I get jealous whenever he touched you. Because I wanted to murder him when he kissed you.”

“It wasn’t even on the mouth,” you rolled your eyes, “It was just for show.”

“Well, it fucking worked, didn’t it,” he growled, his hands flying to your hips. “That smug little bastard. Am I really not the type of guy you’d go for?”

“I haven’t met anyone like you, Jason,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest.

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer to you, a breath away from touching his lips to yours. “Are you going to bite my tongue off if I kiss you?”

“I’m not a fucking savage like-”

And then he did it, finally, after months of sexual tension, he finally kissed you. Soft and gentle at first as if testing the waters. And then as both of you got the hang of it, his kiss turned into one that was heavy and hard and desperate, as though you were going to run away from him if he didn’t make you stay with his mouth.

He pushed you against the wall, his hands roaming all over you, gripping and squeezing and massaging, while he forced his tongue inside your mouth to explore.

“I want you,” he gasped, going down to your neck to leave love bites, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You wanted him too, more than just his body, more than what you had, but you stopped yourself. Because you weren’t supposed to.

“Jason,” you panted, “St-stop.”

And just like that, he did. He wrenched his hands away from you as if he was shocked by electricity and looked down at you with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me,” you said solemnly, “Not in the way I want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just… I’m just the first person you opened yourself up to after a traumatizing event,” you explained, “It’s natural for you to develop a dependency, and I don’t blame you for it, but-”

“You think that’s what this is?” he hissed, “Dependency?”

“It’s like when a patient falls in love with their therapist. It happens and it’s normal and-”

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “You think I can’t tell the difference between wanting you and- and needing you?”

You pursed your lips and simply looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t fucking need you,” he sneered, “And I’ll fucking prove it.”

In a blink, he left the room.

“What? Wait- Jason!” you followed after him.

He was in his room, throwing his things into a duffel bag.

Your heart sank at the realisation.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“Why?”

“You think I’m so fucking helpless?” he aggressively shoved his clothes into the bag, “You think that I can’t fucking be like a normal person? Well, I’ll just show you how fucking independent I can be.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jason,” you tried, “It’s not about trying to prove your point! This is about your mental health and wellbeing and-”

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!” he yelled, causing you to jump. “Stop fucking babying me. I’m not a patient and you’re definitely not my therapist. You’re just a stupid girl who thinks she knows me better than I know myself!”

“Jason, I-”

“How can I be normal again when you’re scared of being normal with me!” he continued, “You didn’t even tell me that you had people coming over to celebrate your birthday because you were worried that I couldn’t handle it! Did you think I was going to strangle anyone who said my name tonight? Did you think I was going to suddenly flip a switch and break down because they were strangers?”

“That’s because I actually care for-”

“I know!” he shouted, before taking a deep breath. “I know you do. And I know you mean well. But this was bound to happen sooner or later. I need to get back on my own fucking feet without you offering your fucking hand whenever I fall down.”

“But, you’re not-”

A warm but firm hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Bruce looking at Jason with his eyebrows knitted together, his lips downturned- he was the Bruce underneath the mask.

Jason stood up straight and looked at him in defiance.

A moment’s silence. And then-

“Do what you need to do. But don’t forget that you are always welcomed here. Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

You gaped silently at Bruce.

Jason nodded at him, giving a small smile.

“Bruce, you can’t just let him leave! This is irrational, and spontaneous, and uncalculated-”

“He’s his own man,” Bruce stated, “He knows what he needs. And I trust him enough to know he will be okay. You should too.”

And with that, Bruce left.

You couldn’t do anything but silently watch Jason resume his packing, and when he was done, you watched him carry his bag to the Manor door.

“I’ll see you again. Whenever.”

And you were left there alone, on the night you turned eighteen, heartbroken over a man who deserved more than what the world gave him.

***

“He hasn’t slept for more than four hours ever since… Ever since he escaped,” you told Dick who had just arrived.

It had been two months after Jason left. He never contacted you once, and if he did contact Bruce, you wouldn’t have known about it.

“And you? How are you doing?” Dick sat down on the sofa next to you.

“The usual,” you shrugged, “Tired. I’d worry more about Bruce.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time Joker’s escaped from Arkham,” Dick stated, “Bruce knows what he needs to do.”

“But it’s the first time he’s escaped with zero evidence,” you explained, “No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. Even Harley doesn’t know what happened. And we have no idea where he is now. I think that’s what’s bothering Bruce the most.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks since the escape,” Dick sighed, “He’s bound to appear sooner or later.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To help?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Hey, have you seen the news lately? About that guy who’s running around beating up criminals?”

“The vigilante wannabe?” you snorted, “Sure. He’s a joke. Zero class whatsoever.”

“Do you think it could be..?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’ve thought about it, but no. He’s just another thug.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Jason wouldn’t rub me off the wrong way like this Red Hood does,” you crinkled your nose, “There’s just something I don’t like about this guy. I think it’s the way he thinks he’s so good. Challenging us like that.”

“Challenging us?”

“Dick, he’s got a blood red bat-symbol on his chest!” you threw your arms up, “It’s insulting- and obviously a mockery.”

“He’s clearing the streets though,” Dick gave you an amused expression, “He’s doing good.”

“He’s an asshole who uses guns to threaten people.”

“He hasn’t actually killed anyone.”

“Yet,” you grumbled, “When you’re that armed, you probably mean business. People are afraid of him. They don’t respect him. Not the way Batman earned his respect.”

“What does Bruce think of him?”

“Nothing. I’m telling you, Dick, he’s just another thug. Besides, Bruce has bigger problems to worry about. Like a lunatic clown that kidnapped his son and tortured him for years being on the loose.”

***

Another two months passed since Joker broke out of Arkham, and Bruce was still obsessing over him.

You couldn’t blame Bruce, obviously. The way he spoke about Joker had never been the same ever since Jason came back. You suspected that he pieced together what that sick bastard had done to Jason, not that Bruce ever said anything about it.

The last time it had rained that heavily while you were on patrol, you had gotten shot. Since then, the bullet wound scar on your back tingled slightly every time you were out in the rain. You knew it was all in your head.

Separated from Batman, you were patrolling downtown, looking down at the alleyways from the rooftops of run down shopping lots. Bruce had made your cape lighter and waterproof after your accident and complaints, so at least you weren’t completely drenched.

But it was still cold.

It was a slow night- as slow as any rainy night would be. A shiver ran down your spine violently. Anyone who was out that night were either crazy, or desperate. The wind was howling, the rain left thunderous pelts as it hit the ground.

And then you heard it, a loud BANG of a gun being fired.

Your head snapped to the direction of the sound, and you grappled- only a few blocks over before you saw the source.

It was the man they called Red Hood, big and bulky, wearing all black except for a leather vest that had a red hood attached to it, pulled up. The red bat symbol on his chest looked as if it was glowing angrily at the whimpering man on the floor.

“Get out of here before I shoot your other knee, you fucking sick pervert,” you heard him growl.

The man scrambled up and limped away.

You saw it as an opportunity to finally confront the asshole, so you dropped down to the alley, right behind him.

That close, you could see how big he was. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, tight fucking ass-

“And who gave you permission to wear that symbol on your chest?” you sneered.

You had expected him to jump in surprise at your voice, but he didn’t. He just stayed there, his back towards you, his smoking gun in his right hand.

You frowned angrily. You made sure to be quiet, and with the rain, it was almost impossible for a stupid thug like him to hear you.

“I’m talking to you, asshole!” you yelled heatedly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He slowly turned to face you, revealing an odd red metal mask that covered his whole face except his forehead.

“They call me Red Hood,” he answered, voice muffled. “Haven’t you been reading the news?”

You clenched your jaw at his teasing, arrogant tone.

“That symbol is reserved only for people who deserve it,” you scowled.

“Is that why you don’t wear the symbol, then?”

“I- you-” you gaped furiously, “I’ll fucking rip it off you.”

He chuckled. “If you wanted me to see me shirtless, you could have just asked, sweetheart.”

You were going to throw another round of insults at him, until you recognized his words.

No. No fucking way.

Dick was right?!

“Jason?” you whispered.

He pulled down his hood, and took off his mask to reveal a grinning Jason. “Miss me?”

“But- you- no- but-” you stuttered, “You’re huge! What the fuck?”

“Let’s get out of the rain, and I can show you how huge I really am,” he winked at you.

You felt your face burn despite the cold. So he was extra flirtatious now, too?

“Where?” you asked.

“My safe house.”

“I need to tell Batman.”

“So tell him.”

You pressed onto the gadget in your ear. “Batman. I found Red Hood. He’s… Him. I’m going with him. Is that okay?”

“Affirmative. I’ll see you back at the Cave.”

You looked at Jason. “Lead the way.”

***

“This isn’t your safehouse, this is Batman’s!” you gasped when you walked down the small staircase that led you underground.

“Yep,” Jason replied, taking off his glove to key in a passcode and scan his thumbprint. “I found out he added my print to all his safehouses in Gotham.”

“So he knew where you were the whole time?”

“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumbled, walking into the familiar looking space.

All of Bruce’s safehouses looked the same. The small emergency ones, at least. It was a small room with nothing but a bed, a first aid station, a toilet with a shower, and a small armoury. He had bigger ones for bigger emergencies, but this was more like a safe stop for when he needed to quickly recover.

“This was the only favor I accepted from him,” he suddenly said defensively, “I’ve been getting by without his help for everything else. Even my weapons are my own.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

You took off your mask and clipped off your cape, but your vision was suddenly gone. Jason had threw a towel on top of your head.

“Dry yourself off, you’ll get everything wet,” he grunted.

You scruffled your wet hair with the towel and then proceeded to take off your boots and gloves.

“So when were you planning on coming back?” you sat on his bed and watched him take off his weapons and the vest.

“I don’t know,” he simply shrugged.

“So you just didn’t really have a plan?”

“I did. And I went through with it. Now I’m not sure.”

“Not sure about- Jesus, do you really have to do that here?” you asked.

Jason was peeling off his skin tight black undershirt. “My safehouse, my rules.”

“But you have a bathroom, don’t you?” you desperately asked. He was unbuckling his belt, and you forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah.”

“So go change there. I’ll wait here.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No, just go!”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving closer to you to stand right in front of you. You felt his grip on your chin, forcing you to turn your head up towards him. There, you met his eyes, intense and bright- brighter than they were before.

“Is it distracting for you?” he smirked, “I worked hard, you know.”

You gulped at the sudden closeness. It had been months since you last spoke to him, and the unexpectedly close contact didn’t help with your nervousness.

He bent down and took your hand in his free one, bringing it up to place it flat against his bare chest, his hot skin burning into yours.

“Can’t you feel the difference?” he muttered, bringing your hand down his chest to his stomach, now sporting a fucking defined eight pack. You refused to look anywhere else but his eyes. “No? Well, how about here, then.”

He pushed your hand down to his crotch, and you definitely could feel how hard he was already.

“Jason!” you gasped, widening your eyes.

He let out a chuckle before crashing his lips against yours, his weight causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. Climbing over you, he started licking at your lips, gently prodding his tongue into your mouth. All the while, your hand didn’t leave his crotch, even though he had released you from his grip.

And you felt him get harder and larger by the second.

“Jason,” you moaned, heat tingling at your core.

You had missed him. Missed his laughs, his glares and insults, his arms around you at night, even his boner poking you annoyingly in the ass.

“Baby.”

And there it was, his baby.

You started to palm his length through his pants, earning a gasp from him that you swallowed.

“Have I proven myself to you?” he panted, going to nibble your earlobe. “I don’t need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, holy shit, fine!” you conceded, your hands travelling up his body to caress him, to feel him. “I… I want you to. I’ve wanted you for so long, but…”

“But you didn’t want to take advantage of my emotional instability,” he scoffed. “I know. And I appreciate it. But how about right now?”

“Right now I just really want you to fuck me,” you breathed.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, “Okay, sweetheart.”

He started kissing you again, nipping at your lips while he tried to take off your uniform- but failed.

“Why the fuck is this more complicated than mine was?” he complained.

“Because I’m the new and improved Robin,” you winked at him, helping him find all the hidden zips and clasps and buttons. Soon enough, you were in your underwear.

“Fuck, you look better without some fucking guy’s arm around you,” he started kissing your chest, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

“Are you still not over that?” you laughed.

“I get pissed every time I think of it,” he grumbled. His hands went to your back and unhooked your bra, which he pulled away. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

And then he attacked your nipples. Biting and sucking on one side with his mouth, and squeezing and twisting and tugging the other with his fingers.

“Jason, please,” you whined, raising your hips to meet his for any kind of friction. You could feel his heavy length on your inner thigh.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, a hand snaking down your body and underneath the band of your underwear. “It took me so long before I could even come, baby. Remember?”

“Hnngh,” you groaned when he started to run his finger up and down your wet folds, “And you still haven’t?”

He paused and looked at you with a grin.

“Oh my god, you have?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, giving you another peck on the lips. “It was about a month ago. Slow night. Excess energy. I was lying in bed.”

He slid off your panties with little trouble, and now you were completely exposed to him. You thought you would have gotten shy at one point, but you were so excited to have him there, to have him do things to you, that you didn’t care.

“And I was thinking of you,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling, “I was thinking about what you were up to. Whether you went out for patrol, because it was raining that night.”

He started circling on your clit slowly with a consistent pressure, causing you to squirm in his arms.

“And I never told you this, but one of the reasons why I waited for you to come back after patrol is because I fucking love seeing you in your uniform,” he continued, “Sweaty, disheveled, flushed with adrenaline, blood pumping. And wet when it rains.”

He stopped working on your clit, but then gently inserted a finger into your hole, making you groan as he went in knuckle deep and then started to slide it out and in and out and in.

“And I just imagined you in your room taking off your uniform. Piece by fucking piece, I could see it in my head, you sighing and frowning because you’re so tired, and just want to shower. And then my cock started to get hard, because I’m thinking of you naked with water running down your skin.”

He curled his finger upwards, pressing against that spot inside you that made you breathless.

“And before I know it, my pants are off and I’m fisting my cock,” he went on, his voice husky, “For the first time, I was actually touching myself and I wanted to come. And all I could think about was you, baby. I thought about how you looked like when you presented your pussy to me that night. I thought about how wet you would be if you were touching yourself at the same time I was.”

With his thumb, he circled on your clit while he fucked your pussy with his finger. It was a little uncoordinated, but it felt amazing all the same.

“And that just opened a lot of doors for me,” he chuckled, “Not that I never thought about it before then, but I was really focused on how you would look like underneath me while I fucked you. I thought about how you would look like with your lips around my cock. I thought about how you would taste.”

He increased his pace, and your eyes were closed then, rolling to the back of your head.

“And then I just knew it, baby. I had to come. Then and there. So I did.”

Fuck, you were on the edge already.

“I fucking came all over myself, moaning your name.”

“Jason.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come.”

And you did. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, your breath stuttering as he made you come.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Let’s just hope I’m as good at fucking as I am at fingering you,” he grinned, taking off his pants finally to reveal his hard and leaking cock.

“Fuck, Jason, I want you inside me. Right fucking now,” you whined, spreading your legs for him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he tapped your clit with his dick, “We gotta take it slow. It’s- it’s my first time too so I’m not sure- I just- fuck, just let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’m gonna-”

“Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” he panicked, “I haven’t even put it in yet!”

“Yeah, I know, I was just joking,” you giggled.

“Sunnova- fuck you,” he growled, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Jason,” you reassured, “Just take it slow. I’ll let you know if it hurts.”

He nodded, and fuck, you could see him gulp in nervousness. It was fucking adorable.

“I’m going to put it in now.”

You nodded, bracing yourself.

Feeling the tip of his dick press into your entrance, you moaned in pleasure at the slight stretch. It felt rubbery, and you didn’t even notice when he put the condom on.

He pushed in slowly, checking to see if he was hurting you.

“Ah!” you gasped out loud, “Wait, just stay there for a bit.”

“Shit, okay, I’m sorry,” he replied.

“It’s fine, it just stings a bit,” you breathed in deeply. “Need to get used to it. Your cock is huge.”

“And your pussy is tight,” he groaned, “Fuck, I could just come right now.”

You waited for a few more seconds, and then nodded at him. He pushed in a bit again, and you could see how hard he was holding back.

“Pause, pause,” you gasped, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck, “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“And your cock is massive, Jason, Jesus,” you laughed, “Okay, you can put the rest in now.”

And finally, Jason bottomed out, leaving you feeling full and stretched, and fuck. It still hurt a bit, but for some reason, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted him to move.

“You can move now, but slowly please,” you requested.

You felt him nod against your neck, and then he started moving his hips extremely slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out until just the tip, and then pushing it back in.

Jason’s cock filled you up in a way that your walls were already clenching around him. He was already hitting every fucking spot inside of you, which was what made it feel so good in the first place despite the stretch.

“Baby,” he choked. You never heard him like that before. He almost sounded like he was in pain.

“You can go a little faster now, Jay,” you told him.

“I- I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you breathed.

“Shut up,” he groaned, continuing the slow and steady pace that already had you nearly spilling over again.

“Jason, fuck,” you moaned. “Please. Faster.”

“No.”

“Jason,” you almost sobbed, “Please.”

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna come,” he growled in your ear.

“Then come, Jason, please,” you cried, “Please fuck me faster and come with me, please.”

“Fucking- fine!” he gave up, and then increased his pace, knocking the breath out of you.

You didn’t feel it approaching like all your previous orgasms. There wasn’t a build of heat that shot sparks to your toes.

No. It came in suddenly, like an attack of sensations that made you writhe and scream while being fucked steadily for the first time by Jason Todd.

“Fuck, baby,” Jason groaned into your neck, burying his face in your skin while he moved his hips, “Fuck. Fuck. Baby.”

And with a long moan of your name, you felt his dick twitch inside of you, his breath stuttering, a hand that was supporting his weight went to grip your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” he sighed, and he collapsed on top of you, cock still inside.

“Jason, you’re heavy,” you giggled, trying to push him off.

“Lemme get myself outta you.”

“Ah!” you moaned when he slid himself out slowly, still sensitive.

“Fuck, sweetheart, don’t go making those sounds or you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“I can’t help it,” you sighed, watching him tie the condom and tossing it. “Your cock feels good.”

“Don’t,” he groaned, landing on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his face close to yours. “Don’t say anything dirty.”

“Okay,” you giggled, snuggling in close to him. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come back now? Please?”

He hesitated before he answered. “I don’t know if Bruce would take me back.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“You guys never found Joker, did you?”

You stiffened. “What did you do?” you whispered.

“I gave him what he deserved,” Jason answered, “And more.”

You stared at him in shock. “You broke him out of Arkham. That’s why there was zero evidence.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It wasn’t easy, but I did. And I made him pay for everything.”

You reached out your hand to caress his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he smiled at you, “They all say that revenge wouldn’t make you feel better. That you’d still feel empty inside. But not for me. It- it gave me closure. It healed me because… Because I know that he can’t get his hands on you and do to you what he did to me.”

After you got over the shock, you genuinely felt happy for him. You would have killed the fucker yourself eventually, but Jason deserved to do it. He deserved to end the life of the person who made his a living hell.

“Bruce doesn’t have to know,” you said quietly.

“He will eventually,” Jason sighed. “It’s Bruce. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t figured it out already.”

“He wouldn’t blame you, Jason,” you told him, “Not- not if he knew. Not if he knew what Joker did to you.”

“He would throw me out,” Jason denied.

“He loves you,” you said, “He loves you, and he will forgive you. Maybe he’d get angry at first, and even then I think he’d be directing his anger towards himself rather than you. He’s changed, Jay. More than you know.”

Jason frowned, mulling over your words. “Fine. I’ll give it a try. But if he kicks me out, I get to say I told you so.”

“He won’t,” you smiled, “I won’t let him. If he does, I’ll go with you.”

Jason blinked at you, surprise etched on his face. “You would do that?”

“Of course. How could I not? I don’t know how obvious it is, but I kinda like you.”

He laughed out loud, “I like you, too.”

“So come back, okay?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “Besides, now that I’m functioning sexually, it’d be pretty hard to stay away from you.”

“I knew you were a perv,” you laughed, “You have to show me that video. Girl gets-”

“Don’t even. Ever.”

“Jason Kinky Todd has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

[hazzabeeforlou]

Just a personal life update because I feel like I’ve been ghosting for ages…. Um.

I’m in the midst of doing this massive music competition and my brain on the daily swivels between panic and manic. First two rounds are about 30 mins of memorized music, third round is chamber and one massive memorized piece, then last round is half hour memorized concerto. And my body is trying so hard to keep up with the demands, and in some ways I’m so proud of it because I’ve made huge progress with acupuncture and meds. Two years ago I couldn’t even play two pieces in a row without debilitating back pain, cold sweats, seizing shoulder. So I’m doing so much better. But it’s still not the level of my peers, who are practicing 6 plus hours a day. I can’t do that. And I’m still working.

And the only reason I’m pushing myself to do this is because there are STILL no auditions on the horizon and I’m just stagnating in the water with no tangible hope of a ‘final’ job that actually pays what my degrees are worth. So I’m betting that by prepping in this way I’ll be fitter when auditions do come back around. Which leads me to say I HATE that I have to plan and scheme to beat the social Darwinism of capitalism just in the hope of getting OUT OF MY GODDAMN PARENTS HOUSE like. I’m so over living there and I’m so guilty for being so over it, but there we are. My parents still refuse to get vaccinated, etc etc. I live in a constant state of performance while I’m there and it’s exhausting and I want to have my own space to just BREATHE and be gay…

Which brings me to the mental slapstick of the past few weeks. I found out my ex is running a Christian tik tok account focused on bringing gay/trans people to repent and find Jesus, claiming her past was sinful and gayness was just a trauma from her dad, saying she is “praying for her future husband” and just so much gross shit I can’t even. And yeah I knew she had mental health issues: see, me breaking up with her: but this is a whole new level of heartbreak and guilt, wondering if me leaving drove her to this, wondering how someone who was SO gay could become this, wondering how many countless kids she’s hurting by saying what she is, feeling helpless to counter it….

Which brings me to writing. I keep getting messages on PITS and every time I do, I think, goddamn Toni you need to keep up on trying to get this published. I just have so much on my plate… but I feel like it will happen eventually, like it’s inevitable, like I’m tied to that story in a fateful sort of way. I haven’t been writing at all lately, and I think that has to do with being in an environment where I can’t really be myself, and somehow that impacts artistic inspiration or whatever. But words keep jumbling up in my head every day all day, intrusive and chaotic and formed from the fragments of articles and activists and musings. I keep wondering if I have ADHD, if the stream of doom scrolling in my brain would have an off switch in a normal person… I really don’t know. I feel like a sponge bloated on worldwide crisis, afraid to drip the excess out because perhaps by keeping it all inside me I’m absorbing it from others… even if I know that’s not how it works.

I’m torn between having EVERYTHING to say, and realizing that nothing can be said. Words are so hollow and the earth is so solid and perhaps I should just go out and beg forgiveness of the stolen soil. I saw a post that said ‘if everyone needs therapy, it’s not an individual problem, it’s a societal one, and what you’re looking for is revolution.’ I don’t know how to start revolutions. Sometimes it feels like I don’t know how to do anything useful at all. So here I blog, sharing pics of two boybanders and liking tag posts and keeping a list of how many sentence snippets I’ve not answered in the past like, six months! Keep tagging me, I love you all and hopefully will write again soon ❤️

[crumblestew]

Okay IDV tumblr let’s discuss...

HELEMARTHA

aka: Helena Adams x Martha Behamfil

This is singlehandedly my favourite idv ship, and the only one I actively think about at any point in time. And I have a few reasons for this!

First of all, I need to put it out there that I have my own very personal interpretation of Helena (I imagine her almost like Crowley from Good Omens in the way she speaks but not quite) regarding her deductions, which I will do a rundown of now to make things more clear.

“Uncontrollable: To become an unprecedented hero, you have to take on many roles which you will only perform once. Father's diary 3: Helena has good ears. I don't know why she would say that.”

“Seize the Moment: Weakness can also be turned into a weapon. I will turn you into a miracle, Helena. A miracle that will never again be replicated.”

1. This has often been interpreted as Helena’s tutor making Helena out to be deaf as well as blind, to create a spectacle of the blind deaf girl who can still navigate using her cane. This would also make sense given her real life inspiration, Helen Keller, was both deaf and blind. I agree with this analysis of it, including her father’s confusion evidenced by the deduction, and this ties directly into the next segment.

2. Helena was intended to be a ‘miracle’, and this deduction always sends a shiver down my spine just thinking about it. My headcanon from this, is that Sullivan became obsessed with the idea of this ‘miracle child’ she was tutoring, and quickly began to sell her to her own father as that. So enamoured by what she’d been made into, he stopped seeing her as her own person, and rather as a miracle. As the deduction states, one that can never again be replicated. This became a constantly draining pressure on Helena to be utterly perfect for the public, one she could not stand as she desperately worked towards a college education. This rightfully created a resentment towards her father and Sullivan, and I headcanon that she left for the manor without telling either of them personally, rather just leaving a note.

This leads us to...

Helena’s arrival at the manor!

When Helena arrives at the manor, the first person she meets is Freddy and they both instantly get off on the wrong foot. Every resident expects her to be soft spoken and quiet, but she is loud, angry, and incredibly assertive. Especially for the time period. This is something I have both deduced from her implied anger issues in another of her deductions (her father mentions her getting irritable and breaking toys), and from her belittling in my own backstory I explained further up. She despises Freddy because she thinks he is incredibly up himself just because he was the first decoder to arrive, and that that’s stupid of him. He in turn, disrespects her over her age, gender and disability, which is all heavily unappreciated by Helena for good reason. However, I am going off on a tangent and should probably get back to my point. If this does well I may do a full Helena headcanons explained one day.

Getting to the goddamn point: Martha

Helena dislikes a majority of her fellow residents of the manor at first, particularly Martha. Martha, the straight laced military girl who expects orders and rules to be followed drives Helena absolutely batshit! Their first match together, Helena gets to infuriated by constant instruction, not liking how Martha has just assigned herself team leader, and angrily turns off her headset so she doesn’t have to listen. Unfortunately, all this means is she can’t communicate with the team and she throws the match. She quickly becomes dreaded by the survivors, nobody wants the grump who hates teamwork and will throw a match based on who’s on her team. In her head, Helena has created a one sided rivalry between herself and Martha, which she holds up in every action of every day. Soon Martha begins to start playing along unintentionally and they have this constant back and forth rivalry between “furious ball of trauma repressed by anger” and “military captain who doesn’t want anyones bs”, much to the amusement and ire of the rest of the survivors. Helena is continuously determined to prove she is as good, if not better at Martha’s job, whilst Martha is tired out by what she simply sees as stupidity.

Here’s where the problems start

Helena just keeps getting more and more reckless, detention rescues, basement at 5 ciphers, actively taunting the Hunter, and eventually it all culminates in one match where everything goes wrong. Helena had, as usual, been giving it way more than she needs to, and Mary was well and truly sick of her cheek. She grabbed her cane and whacked her as hard as she could, sending her flying into a wall and knocking her out entirely. Martha has to carry her out of the gate and she is immediately admitted into the medical ward. After this, a form of mutual respect is established between the two that eases the tension whilst still keeping their dynamic.

Eventually

They begin to actually get closer and one night Helena “borrows” a bottle of Dovlin and Martha decides to join her, after all it sounds fun and she doesn’t have to be totally uptight all the time! Helena begins on a drunken rant about how annoying Martha is as it slowly develops more and more into complimenting her (think along the lines of “you’re annoyingly good at ____”) and it eventually develops into a confession Helena didn’t even know was coming. They wake up the next day curled up into each other on top of Helena’s bed and come to terms with how they feel about the other. Everyone is utterly relieved when they finally get together, Tracy, Naib and Luca in particular saw it coming.

Dynamic!

My main love for this ship comes from the dynamic. I hate how babied Helena is by the fandom, and I believe Martha would come to respect her in her own right as a worthy soldier. She would treat Helena as a normal human, which would at first annoy Helena but would also totally relieve her. She doesn’t have to be a miracle anymore, she just has to be herself for Martha. Because herself is enough.

Wow this was long. Helemartha fans pls interact!

[peachdoxie]

Some of yall really need to stop it with the guilt tripping when people aren’t posting about the protests. “If you’re not reblogging this, you’re part of the problem!” “Make sure you read this, especially my followers who are posting unrelated stuff!” There are so many problems wrong with this outside of the guilt tripping, which is an utterly shitty thing to do on its own

Tumblr is a social media site. It is a not a news source. It is not a mandatory discussion board in a class. People come here for a variety of reasons. You do not get to tell people how to use this website, or any social media site for that matter. People are allowed to not post things if they don’t want to.

Some people come here as a break from the activism they do offline or on other social media sites. You have no way of knowing what someone else is doing or why they’re here on tumblr. You should not assume non-engagement everywhere just because of non-engagement on tumblr.

Some people are also just really stressed out and do not have the mental or emotional energy to spare when it comes to sharing about the protests, whether they’re involved in them or just dealing with shit in their daily lives. May I remind you that we are STILL in the middle of a highly contagious pandemic that’s showing no signs of stopping in the US? That millions of people are unemployed and don’t know when they’ll be able to find another job? That some people just have other fucking issues in their lives that leaves them no excess energy to spare? If you’re okay with the fact that some people can’t physically or financially engage with the protests, you have to be okay with the people who emotionally or mentally can’t engage with them other.

And from point 4: a lack of engagement does not mean a lack of support or a lack of compassion. It just means they’re unable to engage, for whatever reason, and that should be respected. People do not have to justify it to you.

Stop assuming that a lack of engagement on tumblr, or twitter, or facebook, or whatever social media site means that someone isn’t involved in the protests or isn’t supporting people who are. And stop guilt tripping people for not putting on the visible displays of support you think they should be.

This isn’t about respectability politics or about trying to be the “better person” than the people we’re protesting against. This is about having some goddamn critical thinking skills and some goddamn compassion. People need a break from activism! It’s not healthy to constantly be focused on such a stressful topic, and for some people, the limit for what they can take is really, really low. Making them feel guilty for taking a break from the chaos to post a few memes or whatever isn’t going to help. All it’s going to do is give you a sense of superiority for your performative show of support. It does nothing to actually help the cause you’re supposedly advocating for.

Don’t waste your energy on alienating allies or potential allies for some slight you think they’ve committed. We’re not going to make as much progress if people are more stressed and exhausted by the constant stream of guilt tripping for what you think isn’t “enough.” Your energy should go towards supporting people on the front lines of the protests and the people who have had their lives ruined by police brutality. And your energy should go towards stopping the people actively hindering the protests and harming people at risk of police brutality. Guilt tripping people for not reblogging things on tumblr is a goddamn pointless activity. Stop doing it.

I get that you want more people to be involved. I get that it’s frustrating when white people use their privilege to back out of supporting the protests. But there are better ways to go about convincing people to start supporting the protests and fighting against police brutality than guilt tripping them. That’s only going to make them more resistant to joining the cause. Yes, people with white privilege should be giving as much support as possible since we aren’t targets in the same way that POC are, and yes, they should be able to check their privilege and not get upset when someone calls them out on it, but we don’t live in a world where that’s the case.

Some people just aren’t educated and aren’t brought up in a way that enables them to have the knowledge and compassion necessary to understand why people get upset with them and why people are protesting so much. The way to convince them to help is to educate them. Sometimes that takes the form of directly confronting them. Sometimes that takes the form of reblogging things about the protests and black history so that they’ll be exposed to more world views and hopefully will change their stance and join us. But education should never take the form of guilt tripping. And white people: we’re the ones who are most responsible for educating other white people.

And I urge everyone else to take care in what posts you reblog. A lot of people who aren’t actively guilt tripping people reblog posts with additional comments that ARE guilt tripping - that’s where I got the two comments I made in the beginning of this post. While obviously reblogging a guilt tripping comment isn’t the same as making one, reblogging them contributes to guilt tripping others. There are hundreds of reblogs on any given post. Reblog it from a version that doesn’t have guilt tripping comments on it.

What we need right now, more than ever, is solidarity. Guilt tripping isn’t solidarity. It’s just mean.

[alice-in-wonderart]

Could you do marriage proposal headcanons for the junior quartet (Sizhui, Jingyi, Jin Ling and Zizhen), pretty please?

Oof, I apologise for the wait, dear. This got much longer than anticipated- regardless, I hope you enjoy me clowning the juniors. After all, proposing isn't easy.

Jin Ling

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.

"Why do I have to propose?! Can't she?!"que angry whailing from the Juniors.

No, in all honesty, Jin Ling would be utterly out of it. The moment he realizes he wants to spend his life with you hits him in the face like a brick. And suddenly he doesn't know what to do with himself... So he turns to his friends, who of course, tease him like hell for it.

Ultimately, they help him set up some sort of plan - the plan of taking you out and proposing. The whole idea was for him take a day off from being a sect leader to spend it with you, which turned into an impromptu mini trip to Yunmeng. And so the plan is set in motion.

But nothing ever goes as planned, does it? For the most part - it went okay. He took you around Yunmeng, showing you anything and everything interesting, reminiscing even. But you knew something was off - Jin Ling was jittery, much more unruly and quick to anger than usual.He was blushing like crazy at the simplest of touches. In fact, he was a walking time bomb ready to explode any second. And- it did.

It did, when work found him anyways. Urgent business he had to discuss with his uncle, apparently something which couldn't wait. He wasn't even listening to the logistics of it, his mind was on you - who was going to have to wait for him patiently. Not only that, but because of said work - you'd have to stay longer than expected. (Maybe he should have warned his Jiujiu about his plan, but such smart decision-making doesn't run in the family)

And, you see, usually this wouldn't bother him much, but when he had meticulously *tried* to plan a PROPOSAL, things were very different. So, coming out after a few hours of endless work, he's pissed - at himself, at work, at life...and he yells at you. He yells at you for asking why he's been acting strange all day, frustration falling from his lips like a sinner's confession.

"Strange?! You have no idea what is going on, do you!? No, of course you don't! Ugh. My entire plan got ruined!! This is a disaster!!"

And you'd have to calm him down, that no - nothing was a disaster, you had fun, Yunmeng was lovely, you'd love to stay a bit more. And once again it was proven to him, that there is nobody in the entire world he'd rather spend his days with.

"Okay, look. I know I'm not perfect. I can be rash, hot-tempered, bad-mannered. I'm a sect leader, I'm always busy. And even now, when I tried to make everything perfect for you, it still failed. And here I am, standing in front of you, feeling like an absolute lovestruck moron, like you're my first crush and I just lose my train of thought around you. And-

Goddamn it, I love you, I love you with all of my heart. And I want to show you that everyday. I want to give you everything, I want to give you the world and - I just want to know if- you'dwanttomarryme?"

Lan Sizhui

Sizhui knew very well, that one day he was going to marry you - after all, you were his light, his soulmate. His first love, his world. You stayed with him through thick and thin already, you were his support, his treasure. And he simply couldn't imagine a world without you.

But proposing didn't come as naturally as he'd expected. After having witnessed WangXian in its full potential, having been a part of their wedding, and knowing fully well how it should go down, he still felt a tad too lost and decided to ask for advice.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were very supportive, albeit teasing. Ultimately they were of little help outside of support, suggesting (WWX) all kinds of crazy proposals, from poems, to serenades, to fireworks, wild animals, crazy adventures. Lan Wangji suggested simply asking, which also didn't quite sit right with Sizhui. He was never one for the extravagant show-off performances, but a little more care would never hurt anybody.

Ultimately, he decided to ask you during one of your occasional evening walks around Gusu. He'd told you to wait for him outside a tad later than expected. That of course caught your attention, since Lan Sizhui was never one to break rules, but the little night date was set in motion regardless.

Walking around the back mountain and near the pond with the bunnies, he felt his hands sweat a bit, while waiting for the right moment. He seemed much more distracted than usual, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Soon he found himself kneeling next to you, as you were holding one of the white fluffballs in your hands, lovingly petting it.

"I could stay like this forever" he'd hear fall from your lips. Or perhaps it was something else? He wasn't listening.

"You can..I mean- we can. Just you and me." he'd mumble, gently taking one of your hands in his. He took a deep shaky breath. The bunny jumped off you and he gently caressed the palm of your other hand, before pulling it slightly to his heart. The questioning look you gave him made his heart skip a beat..or two. He smiled warmly at you.

"I..called you out here for a reason actually. I've never actively looked for love, never thought I might find it, yet here you are. And I love you very much, much more than I have the words to express. And you see, everytime I look at you, I can't help but imagine a bright future with you, together, as partners. Even now, my heart beats so fast around you, I fear it might jump right out of my chest. No amount of eloquent poetry or masterfully crafted music can contain everything that I feel for you."

He stopped and moved to kiss your knuckles. "And through it all, we stayed together. You know me better than I know myself. And I know now, that I can't imagine a life without you in it. With all the love and respect I have for you, I'm asking you if you'd like to marry me?"

Lan Jingyi

Let's say your cultivation level isn't the best for the sake of the scenario lol

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic - Part 2

Oh wow, something scarier than ghosts - commitment love.

Jingyi is lost. He knows he loves you more than anything and he's pretty sure you love him too but- marriage?! He's never had to deal with...that!? Out of desperation, he'd turn to Lan Xichen, who would give him the unhelpful advice of "Follow your heart and see where it leads you." thx m8, rly helpful.

At the end, he'd simply decide to ask you outright. And he was going to propose to you after the upcoming night hunt. He'd imagined it so romantic - him, returning to you, adrenaline-high and sweeping you off your feet with a proposal even the gods would envy.

But then you just HAD to request joining the night hunt. And Lan Xichen had the audacity to agree!

Each time he'd look at you, his heart would skip a beat, his face would flush and he'd forget his own name. It wasn't fair - that you decided to accompany him on his night hunt, since now he had a constant distraction. And of course, he'd complain about it. Not only did he have to look after himself, but now you too? Why was life so cruel?!

And of course, you'd just giggle with your perfect melodic voice and assure him you'd be perfectly fine, and that if something were to happen, you'd be safe and sound next to him. And of course his heart would do a 360 and run an entire marathon. Who needed sanity anyways? Not him, nope.

But night hunts aren't always safe. And that night, resentful energy had seeped much deeper within their hunting grounds than usual, bringing about an army of spirits to roam the dark forests. And when a few decided to sneak-attack, things took a turn for the worst, quicker than expected.

The ambush, of sorts, left you vulnerable, when everybody else ran in all directions, dealing with the spirits at hand. And as much as Jingyi was keeping an eye on you, in the dark of the night, amongst the resentful ghosts, he lost track of you. And panic struck over unlike anytime before. At once his fear of ghosts was utterly deminished and a single thought flooded his mind - where are you?

He stopped in the middle of the battle ground, looking at every direction imaginable. And surely enough - there you were, about to be attacked by a spirit.

And Lan Jingyi saw red. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you, dead set on protecting you until the very end of time. And that he did.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you, no disregard whatsoever about the others around him, and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, asking over and over if you're okay, if you're hurt and if you needed anything.

After having to assure him, that you are in good health, he pulled away from the hug, only to grab you by the shoulders and leave a quick kiss on your lips. Lan be damned, he nearly lost you.

"Forget anything, what if I wasn't there on time?! I just realised how unpredictable this life can be and now how do you expect me to rest peacefully, without you safe by my side? I almost lost you just now! How could I live with myself if that happened? God, this job is so dangerous! We live a life where any second could be our very last and I can't stand that thought! Let me protect you for all eternity and marry me!"

*cue dead silence from half of the Lan clan and a severely amused Wangxian.

Ouyang Zizhen

I call him - a modern day teenager in ancient China, which applies to his idea of marriage as well.

Out of all of the Juniors, he'd be the most set on actually proposing the "right way" - whatever that meant.

To him, a day meant for a proposal was a day meant for spoiling. It was a "show my love I'm ready to do anything for them" day. Was he an absolute nervous wreck? Yes. Was he showing it? ....well. That's arguable. Did you absolutely know something was off with him? Of course. You'd spend enough of your life with Zizhen to know him like your own name.

So, when he came up to you, gingerly asking if you'd like to go downtown for a little walk, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, you knew you were in for a wild ride - after all, that's one of Ouyang Zizhen's many charms - the adventurous spirit. ( ugh, he's such a Sagittarius. Don't @ me, we don't know his bday)

Upon setting foot in the middle of the town, he turned to you and smiled brightly. "Anything you pick today is all yours. Anywhere you want to go, we go. Anything you want to eat - will be given to you." And he meant it.

He didn't expect you to, however, disregard all of that, instead choosing to spend the day with him, simply walking around and talking. Perhaps drinking a cup of tea. And he followed your humble request, of course.

Yet he still wanted to spoil you - from the freshly baked goods further down the street, to some pretty hair ornament he absolutely insisted would look lovely on you. He just wanted to show you how much you meant to him. Alas, he just wasn't sure how.

He proudly strode by your side, hand in hand, despite his bashfulness, loving every minute spent with you. You ran around, enjoying each other's company, listening to the funny gossips, petting all kinds of animals in the streets, all until you got to a street musician. (I swear those have existed back then - I've seen a documentary, but if I'm wrong, do correct me ✌️ )

He ran up to him and whispered something you couldn't hear, then payed him. The musician in question smiled in return to him and changed the song to one you both recognised and loved. Turning to you with the most bashful of smiles, Zizhen spoke in a fairly hushed tone. "And this - this is for you."

Through a painfully big smile, you couldn't help but ask whether you were forgetting an anniversary, or if it was your birthday and you hadn't realised. The slight worry that you had forgotten some important day threw him off immediately and he frantically waved his hands. "Oh no, no, no. You haven't forgotten anything!" Then he grabbed your hand and turned to you fully.

"Today isn't an anniversary, but I was hoping it could be in the future... We've been together through so much and I wanted to repay you for all of the kindness, understanding, and love that you're giving me. And before you argue that repaying isn't an option, let me finish first. Sometimes I lie in bed at night, wondering what I've done to deserve you, what wonderful hero I must have been in a past life to have you here next to me. And then I always hear your beautiful voice in my head, reminding me, that you're here to stay and I just can't believe it. I wanted to make this day special for you, because I love you and I appreciate everything you've done for me. And well..there is one more thing. I've thought long and hard about this and... Well... I can't help but wonder, if you'd want to stay with me until the very end and marry me?"

Thank you for reading~

[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) Ko-Fi request

Guuuurl can I please get like a bunch of accidental run in encounters with ushiwaka plssss I feel like he doesn’t get much love

Here’s the problem with a school like Shiratorizawa.

It’s a big school.

Fucking huge.

Massive campus yet elite, trimmed student body with a very personal class average of students to teachers. Private tutors are offered in every nook and cranny of the libraries, and the dorms are luscious and extravagant.

Unknown to many of your classmates but most of your team members are aware, you got into Shiratorizawa on a favor from your childhood kyudo coach and a hefty scholarship you had to claw your way towards over a bunch of other studious bookworms. 

You’re the leading star on Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club, the ochi from your tachi group, the last person to shoot, the person who guides the rest of the team. You also hold the position of captain in your third year at Shiratorizawa, and kyudo is all you have ever known and love.

But, but, but, but, at a school like Shiratorizawa where a classic, high performance sport like kyudo, a traditional, beautiful sport like kyudo should be fairly popular, your club and your teammates’ performances are always outshone by more high-energy, easily watchable sports.

Shiratorizawa’s sports expect nothing but the highest level of triumphs from all their divisions. From basketball to dressage on horse, each club is required to perform admirably. If you perform well, the more funding you got for your club, the more prestige, and all good things.

Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club is actually high on the list, last year your team placed first at the Inter High and made it to the top four in nationals. Despite all this, despite the fact that you even scored consecutive kaichus, hitting all your marks and not missing a single arrow, making waves in the kyudo community and getting higher renown for your team, your headmaster still refused to acknowledge your club.

You’d come to him, white headband tied around your head, posters ready, armed and prepared to fight tooth and nail for an increase in funds and a spot at advertisements because if your fellow student body just knew about the sport, more people would join, more people would watch, and your club wouldn’t be in danger of closing down after you graduate or declining—

“It’s just not popular!” your headmaster clapped you over the shoulders himself, beaming. “Keep working hard though! Good job last year!”

Because popular and television-worthy, massive poster worthy, constant overhead announcements in the morning and the afternoon about matches, constant offered opportunities for extra credit, belong to certain sports at Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa’s Boys’ Volleyball team.

Every morning you came to school and stared in disgust, not out of a personal vendetta for the guy, but for his whole damn team for taking the spotlight for the past three years you’d been here at Shiratorizawa, at the giant, blown up poster lining your school’s walls, posted in any classroom you two might have together. He flooded the school’s daily bulletin, online articles, even the god damn konbini near your house when your returned home for the holidays.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Volleyball star, playing for Japan’s national youth team—which was something you did drool over because nationals was your goal for kyudo—and even top of all his classes.

You kinda hated this guy and you didn’t even know him.

But it was no matter because this year you planned to take your team all the way to the top. Everyone at this damn rich school was going to known kyudo and love it, damn it. They were going to sing your praises all the way down the halls, line up outside the shooting range to get a peek at your beautiful team and fall in love with the bow.

All the way to the same stage this rich, boastful school’s especial crowning achievment and pride, enough to get them their own stupid bus, enough to get them their own damn gym, enough to get them their own damn cheer squad and—

Your first real, personal meeting with Ushijima Wakatoshi goes something like this:

I don’t need more protein, I need better results. You frowned, staring at the picture of the protein drink you’d been texted that was apparently quite popular these days, according to your fellow teammate. She constantly sang its praises, promising nothing but the best and urging you to start getting into it.

“Your practice schedule is too rigid!” she lectured, shaking her hands at you as you notched another arrow and took aim. “You’re going to shoot arrows till you’re an old maid! No one will marry you at this rate!”

“Kyudo will marry me,” you said, completely serious. “I’m marrying the best kyudo archer of this era and no one else.”

“He’s over fifty!”

“I like them older anyways.”

While normally you would have ignored your vice captain in favor of your own home remedies, your joints were acting up lately, specifically your left wrist and that was never a good sign. You had a feeling the tautness to the new string you were trying to break in wasn’t doing you any favors either. You needed to keep an eye on it in case it got worse.

I can’t bring this team down.

The school’s mini-grocery was fairly empty at this hour. Most students were back at the dorms and anyone still lingering around should’ve just finished with their own club practices.

The rows were designed so items could be taken from either side, not just one. You browsed the aisle, tempted by the choco-snacks but willing yourself to put another batch of fruits in instead. Have to treat my health like second nature. Results don’t come from potato chips.

“Finally,” your eyes zeroed in on the brightly colored bottle. A hefty size, meant to be poured out in cups and drunk daily. You had no idea how it would taste, but by your vice captain’s face, it couldn’t be too great.

You crouched down, reaching for the last bottle on the lowest row.

A massive hand engulfed yours at the top of the bottle’s cap, swallowing your hand whole.

“Holy shit!” you shrieked, ripping your hand away—only to find yourself unable to do so with the massive hand still laid down over yours. You hit the floor on your ass, gaping in horror at the monstrous palm and the calloused fingers and fearing this was finally the moment you were dragged into some abyss by an unknown creature and killed—

Eyes like olives, flecked with gold.

You stared, caught, unable to move for a second. You’d always thought his eyes were brown. You never noticed the weird lining to them that gave them a sharper look, like an eagle or—

“My bad,” Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi said, his voice a deep, resounding rumble in his chest like a goddamn bear. 

He crouched there, sitting back on his heels, directly across the aisle from you, peering through the metal shelf like some kind of monster trying to fit through a crack. His massive hand and massive arm barely had to leave his body to reach the same bottle of protein you’d both been shooting for. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

All at once, the flood of posters assaulted your brain. The blaring announcements, the squealing girls, the headmaster, the volleyball buses with his face printed on the side, the magazines, the articles and—

You blinked, once, twice.

His lips parted.

You ripped your hand out from under his with a hefty amount of force. The action sent you flat on your back and you were sure he’d gotten a front row view of under your skirt but you really didn’t give a crap.

“Have it!” you barked out, awkwardly scrambling to your feet. You grabbed your basket and Ushijima blinked once at you, slowly, face monotonous. “You need it more anyway, jerk!”

You huffed, shoulders puffing up. Ushijima was silent on the other side of the aisle, wordlessly taking the bottle of protein with him as he stood.

You gaped.

HE’S A LIVING TREE.

Your neck actually craned a bit, straining to look up at him and he stared down at you from the top of the aisle.

His arm promptly stuck itself through the gap in the shelf, offering the drink to you.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “You should take it.”

For some reason that irked you.

You forcefully—struggling with great difficulty—shoved the drink back to his side through the shelves. Ushijima blinked once, slow down at you and you bared your teeth at him before hoisting your basket up into your arm and storming to the check out where you flew through your wallet, aggressively paying the lady at the counter, nearly running into a smirking redhead at the doorway and rushing the rest of the way to your dorm where people kept asking why you looked so damn mad.

“Who was that?” Tendou chirped, sidling up to Ushijima. “A fan?”

Ushijima stared out the still swinging door and calmly examined the bottle of protein in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“...you gonna continue with the sentence or what?” Tendou prodded.

I hate this time of the year. You frowned, burrowing deeper into your muffler as you fought the early morning chill. Several other students were trudging beside you, sleep in their eyes as you all headed to the regular meeting for club time slots. You always showed up as early as possible to get the best dibs for your club. 

You absently kicked a pebble in your way, wondering how you should organize practice this week. You wanted to brush up on your form again and—

Why was everyone looking at you like that?

“Good morning.”

It took you a moment to realize a massive shadow had engulfed your own. You stared at your feet for a moment, rubbing your eyes before slowly turning.

Ushijima Wakatoshi bore down on you, face cast in dark shadows from the early morning darkness, puffs of steam clouding by his mouth where he breathed.

He looked like a monster.

You felt your hackles raise, nearly jumping out of your sneakers as you started to backpedal away from him, “Hah?”

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, looking completely unfazed by the crack of dawn and cold.

You continued to hurry backwards toward the gym while barking back at him as Ushijima took calm steps forward—since you were both headed the same way—every three of your steps one of his own.

To anyone else, it looked as though a bear were advancing on a chihuahua.

“G-Good morning to you too!” you snapped. “Bye!”

“What?” Ushijima asked.

“I said bye you—”

“We’re still headed the same way.”

“Stop following me then!”

 - - - - - - - - 

You smirked, hefting the pile of posters into your arms. This was it, this was going to work for sure. No way anyone could ignore the please join flyers if you were pinning them up all around the school, and the team had worked hard to make it stand out and eye catching, appealing to all genders and interests.

Your wrist was starting to bother you a bit, so you shifted the papers to the other arm. I got careless trying to get the bow turn again. I need to slow it down and ice it tonight.

Who says we’re last on the funding list? You grinned, grabbing your tape. They can’t ignore us with a bunch of members—

“Good afternoon.”

You screeched, dropping your stack of flyers onto your foot. They scattered the hallway.

Ushijima calmly turned his gaze downwards, staring at the colorfully illustrated flyers now flooding both your feet.

Join the kyudo club!

“You,” you snapped, urging your heart to calm and shoving your tape back into your pocket. You hurried, grabbing the flyers and restacking them as he stood, towering above you. “What the heck do you want? Do you get some kind of kick out of scaring people or—”

In one smooth, swift motion, Ushijima had crouched down beside you. You stared, gaping in disbelief as his large hands—he has such big hands, I’ve never seen anyone with hands that big, this guy is all muscle and—moved across the floor, gathering up the papers in one fell swoop. His bangs shifted slightly over the slight furrow of his brows. 

Ushijima looked at you, quiet, somber, unreadable as he carefully put your stack back together.

He looked weird in the school uniform. You were so used to seeing him in his volleyball one. He seemed like a different person. Oh, you’re the type that leaves the first button undone.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he said, slow, with that rumbling voice of his. It sent a timbre down your spine.

Ushijima remained silent, staring calmly at you, seemingly content with the silence.

“Y-Yeah, well,” you started. “My bad then.”

You quickly stood, lifting your stack. You stared down at Ushijima for once as he calmly looked up at you and promptly ran off without another word, unable to figure out the weird awkwardness that sat on your tongue whenever you dealt with him.

I mean, it’s not like I really… hate him right?

Why the hell am I running into him so much?

You just needed to shoot some arrows and you’d feel a lot better.

-----------

You shot too many arrows.

You frowned at your throbbing wrist, giving it a look of utter betrayal. The nurse had said to give her a few minutes for her to come back with some pain killers. You were only in the infirmary this time because the pain had gotten to a point where you’d actually dropped your bow in the middle of a draw.

Prelims are coming up. You glared harder at your wrist. You just needed to ice it and you’d feel better. I can’t let them down.

You were taking them straight to the top and then it’d be kyudo posters this school would see, not just stupid Ushijima’s face and—

“(L/n)-san.”

You screeched, nearly toppling off your stool. Your wrist smacked into the counter and you hissed in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Ushijima stood in the doorway of the infirmary, staring at you with furrowed brows.

Why him, why now? You grunted in greeting, gingerly rubbing your throbbing wrist, turning away from him toward the window.

You heard the door close behind him, focusing all your attention on anything else to ignore the massive presence behind you.

“What happened?”

WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME. 

“Oh, this and that,” you said simply, vaguely, struggling to find better words. You… you really didn’t hate this guy personally or anything, but it was personal at the same time? You didn’t know how you felt about him and it was making you confused.

You hated being confused.

Ignoring any and all other social cues, Ushijima took a seat on the stool beside you, back and posture impeccable. His hands calmly set on his knees. His volleyball uniform like second skin against his form, revealing nothing but miles of muscle and hardwork.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Ushijima faced forward, face unreadable.

….okay. You awkwardly glanced to the side, rubbing at your wrist. Way to make it even more awkward. Does this guy not socialize much or what?

“Uh,” no! Don’t talk to him! Just keep your mouth shut! “What happened to you?” you said awkwardly.

Ushijima’s face relaxed an inch. You blinked in surprise.

“My knee,” he said. “Coach made me go get it checked out.”

“...me too,” you said. He looked at you. You looked away. “Not my knee, I mean. My wrist. My vice captain will have my head if I didn’t. I told her I could just ice it.”

“You should be more careful,” Ushijima said.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize.”

You stared.

Ushijima motioned to your wrist, not taking his eyes off your face, “Your fans would be disappointed if you were unable to perform.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize,” Ushijima said again, shaking his head. You gaped at him. “I would be disappointed. I wish to see your kaichu again.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were left to dumbly look at Ushijima. He seemed to take pity on you and turned fully on his stool, several heads taller, looking down at you before he calmly said—

“I am a fan of your archery.”

The two of you sat there in silence.

Steam shot out of your ears as your face exploded into red. Ushijima watched in silence as you toppled over your stool and back onto the ground.

- i also stan one giant tree