#come at me fuckers

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

I see toxicity has snuck back into Warhammer Tumblr.

Feel free to come at me, I have been in this fandom for 26 years, I have seen the lore warp, change and out right get retconned.

I seriously doubt you put as much effort into the hobby as I.

[aetheternity]

"Venti stans are low key annoying complaining about Venti not being the main focus of the Windblume festival."

First off we do not care. Second off ok???? Literally every character stan complains about their fave not getting enough screen time hop off.

It isn't even about screen time for me. It's about the fact that Venti hasn't truly felt like Venti in several updates. The last time he truly felt like himself was during Weinlesefest but even then he still didn't feel like the Venti we met all the way back during the first archon quest. And I don't wanna hear "hE hAd cHaRaCtEr dEvLoPmEnT." Cause no that isn't what happened, he regressed as a character. He's becoming fanon Venti in game. He gets used for alcohol jokes and Paimon calls him lazy then he dips. 🙄

"He was just in the Lantern Rite.." Shut Up. Shut Up. Shut all the fucking way up! He was terrible in LR and honestly if you cut Venti out of LR you basically have the same event. He did literally nothing of substance and he shouldn't have been there at all.

The first Windblume festival centered around Venti and showed us more of Venti being Mondstadt's archon. The second Windblume festival has barely anything to do with him. Excuse us if we're fucking disappointed, we have every right to be. Like I said literally every character's stans complain about them not getting enough screen time. Yeah sure if every Mondstadt event centered Venti it'd get old but the biggest problem is they decided to center a MONDSTADT EVENT around fucking SUMERU CHARACTERS. Fucking Collei gets more screen time than any Mondstadt character. Which wouldn't be a problem but this is a main Mondstadt event. Even though Venti was in LR 3 he wasn't a main focus he was a background character to the rest of the cast. Which is what Collei should've been cut out Tighnari and Cyno.

Mondstadt has so many underutilized characters and their screen time got spliced for the Sumeru fuckers who already have too much screen time. The entire last five updates have had Cyno in almost everything and Tighnari as well and while Collei has less screen time than them she has yet to be under used. If this was about Collei meeting up with Amber again they could've had that in a different event. If this was about Collei facing her anxiety it could've happened in a different event. They should've just had Sucrose helping Mondstadters cause guess what? You think this is going to be the last time a nation's event gets characters bombarding in? Hell no Fontaine is coming soon we're one hundred percent going to get nation festivals with random characters that have nothing to do with anything probably until the end of the game.

We'll see how happy ya'll are when your fave gets less screen time for some randos that have nothing to do with the nation you care about.

[kamwashere]

You 🤝 Me 💕 Bildad the Shuhite

listen. no one is allowed to hate any aspect of my favorite good omens s2 episode, the clue featuring the minisode a companion to owls, especially bildad the shuhite, shoemaker and midwife

[bitchfitch]

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[favroitecrime]

Palestinian freedom fighters breaking out of Gaza and reclaiming their occupied territories. They’ve taken over israeli tanks and have chased out the settlers that were on that land. They’ve launched rockets everywhere and the iron dome has failed to intercept. This is about to mark a momentous event in history.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

[erinwantstowrite]

i think im not a fan of what dc keeps doing with jason because they keep having him, the abused, become an abuser in some way shape or form. and the classism they don't want to talk about (i am being so for real there is a genuine problem of both writers and readers who do not understand jason's background and it pissed me off so bad because it always shapes their opinion of him in the wrong way and they don't care to even try to listen). and how if they were going to have him come back they should have had delved into his identity crisis and the inherent horror of coming back but not knowing how or why or what to do about it and not knowing what you were doing while dead and having to deal with time jumping forward on you and the fact that you will never get the time back and no one will he the same as they were before you died and how isolating and lonely that would be. and they also definitely weren't prepared for the fact that jason was grieving his life and his death and his hopes for his mother and his dad who didn't get there in time and the dc writers are fucking cowards. which brings me to my next point: why do we keep listening to them about shit because they are quite literally always fighting with each other and projecting their own personal biases into characters (i.e. making them worse than they are/2 dimensional/trying to make them iredeemable so their favorite character gets to shine) and also they are all freaks of nature with a consistent problem of being God Awful People who why would we trust them with these characters. jason todd they don't get you like i do

[sargent-space-dork]

I retired on my skylanders tumblr so now I'm posting here so I don't have to deal with creep gooners, anyway totally unrelated here's some transformers AU work!! UH this is all for a personal AU, it's not like, based on one continuity its based on all the ones i like, and I get to choose the lore so. I also shouldn't have to say this but better safe than sorry, don't use my designs for your own stuff.

im gonna be super silly and name my tf au the same thing as my other nontf au so no one can tell them apart :)

[moeblob]

Capri Sun... I miss you... (it still exists).

[jacaerysgf]

bearys monsterfuckertober 2024! 2k celebration

one post per day. some full fics some drabbles. all are nsfw. no schedule.. jacaerys only! the monster can be either jace or reader. enjoy 😁

start date: sep 30th (since i wont be posting on oct 31st)

nsfw | jacaerys only | monster au's !

taglist (open)

masterlist !

day 1: SOAKED ! - merman!jacaerys x reader

day 2: LURKING ! - ghost!jacaerys x reader

day 3: ghost!jace headcanons

day 4: vampire!jace eating you out (on your period)

day 5: king!fae jace x mortal!reader

day 6: meeting vampire!jace's family for the first time

[krsnope]

My first play through (and second play through 😅) Rook is a crow and this morning all I’ve been thinking about is “you call that nice & quiet?!?!”

Like imagine afterwards, even with all the other things that went sideways- Lucanis writing home to Viago like “tf are you teaching your fledglings de Riva??? Nice and quiet and Rook drops a 20ft mirror out of the side of Weisshaupt?? Is this why you sent her away?? Cause she’s constantly breaking shit??”

[ricksanchezbignaturals]

i feel like the rickfuckers are getting catered to more every season. the glasses in the new clip fuck severely and we already got him stripping in the preview. somebody clearly has their finger on the pulse of this genre of fan so im just gonna put it out there that a lot of the old man enjoyers in the audience would kill to hear him speaking spanish or see him in a dress

[suntails]

meet me in a dream

[fukashiin]

ACEYUU WOKE ME FROM THE DEAD

book 7 spoilers <3 very long rant im sorry!!

it was never meant to be this way. when he was such an ass to us in the prologue, when he laid those pesky remarks upon us and immediately assuming that we got into NRC as a janitor because we weren't good enough without any prior knowledge of how we were brought here against our will and having to adapt to such an unfamiliar environment where everything - trends, names, history, and even the currency - were different. he didn't know about the throbbing headache we had while the headmage was explaining the school's curriculum and suddenly bringing up the word "magic" into the conversation like it was foreign language.

he thinks he's above us just because we're a clueless student who couldnt cast any spells and took up the miserable job just for the sake of money and to live. he had this one-way "not my problem!!" mindset about us that he dipped the moment after because he never would have suspected that we would grow to be something more important, something more irreplaceable in his life.

he never meant to test the waters, and he's drowning by mistake.

his concern for you gets more obvious as each book advances (or was it always obvious??). you're just an otherworlder oblivious to the dangers that lurk in twisted wonderland, so it's only casual for him to fret about when you've been taken into scarabia with minimal escape routes, to be the first one to notice that you were missing among the entourage of people that have been kidnapped, to be the only one to point out that you weren't in the best condition AND suggesting to bring you back home in case the party was all too much. he knows how vulnerable you are, and he jumps into action as quick as possible because that's basically his brand. nothing deeper!!! (unknown dangers lurk around you on the daily, but you lurk in his mind so much more than he lets on. you're probably more used to the dangers of magic than he's used to the thought of you occupying his mind 24/7. isnt that ironic)

and he didn't consider the complications of how dangerous it could be for the headmage to send us back to our original world, possibly damaging the very fabrics of time and space and ceasing to exist while transporting - he just instantly goes to the part where the news was positive and that we could travel between Twisted Wonderland and earth in one piece, blocking out his surroundings just to see your smile, as that was possibly the happiest you could have ever been in front of him.

imagine each time he hangs out with someone new, or if someone has gained a romantic interest in him once you've left, he tries to find a part of "you" in them in his peripheral vision. whether they have an ounce of bravery that you had, whether they're as understanding as you are to know that he isn't just a human built of jokes and pranks, whether they won't doubt him like the rest did - as you were the only one who truly believed in his capability to truly lead the rest out of danger.

he could beg for other people to believe in him, to see that his skills could draw out much more if he really wanted to, but he didn't have to do that with you. in a flashing moment of possible failure, he turned to you in a heartbeat, uncharacteristically, desperately calling out for you to save him because he had no idea what was happening. he almost started to lose himself and quickly realises that the power he was wielding so suddenly wasn't some lousy spell, that it could possibly cause someone's life, and you were there to steady him when he needed it the most. a rarity of a scene he entrusted his entire body to you with. you believed in him. you ARE the betterment of him.

you held his hand like a vow, to protect each other and strengthen through every obstacle and turmoil that drives you one step closer to becoming a better version of yourself. your hand, tightly coiled around his, radiated the warmth and comfort he needed in his times of darkness and inner conflict.

it should've been you. you're perfect.

and that's why his dream still has you in it. it doesn't have to be one way or the other, you can simply go back and forth to his world and your own in just a snap! he could never dream of you leaving his sight and grasp, hindering him from ever telling you how much you actually meant. he has all the time in the world.

and that's what he wants, but his heart says otherwise, and that's fine. he just wants you to be safe and see him for who he is. you inspired him to take pride in his name, as an ace can do anything!!

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Like A Man Without Skin

Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Summary: Your new apartment is haunted by the ghost of the sexiest man you've ever seen. My entry for @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes Monster Smash!

Pairing: Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit!

Warnings: Just… so much dirty talk. Pet names (Sugar, baby, sweet girl, good girl), groping, fingering, oral (f receiving but super briefly), pussy pronouns, is it vouyerism if you're watching each other?, obviously monster fucking, reader very briefly pulls her own hair? Not very heavily edited, I tried my best but if I read it one more time I'm gonna get embarrassed. Also very much a believer I ghosts (ask me about my own haunted apartments!) but I don't know how that shit works suspend your disbelief, babes!

Word Count: 3.1k

The first night, you blamed the house settling.

You had just moved to a new apartment and always had a hard time sleeping in a new place. You weren't used to the shadows that danced across your walls, that just repainted "landlord special" smell, or whatever that sound was.

That incessant crack that echoed through your living room, right outside your bedroom door, for hours. Literally fucking hours. You wanted to believe it was the floorboards creaking. This apartment was old, part of a three-story row house in a big city, and if the sleaziness of your landlord was anything to go by, it definitely wasn't up to code. You'd actually be more worried if it was silent in your apartment.

But still, the crack that… cracked… just outside your bedroom door was unnerving to say the least. It didn't sound like any "settling house" noise you were used to, but any alternative scared you too much.

That night you slept with the light on and a desk chair propped against your doorknob.

You got used to the crack in the living room after a few nights. You'd resigned yourself to the fact that it wasn't the house settling, but what it was eluded you. It never stopped, but it became a normal part of your nightly routine. Every night around 10 pm, when you'd leave your hall bathroom and shut the bedroom door behind you, it would begin.

Crack

And then a pause. You'd count to 30, and

Crack

This went on until you fell asleep. You soon started to count the noises behind your door until you dozed off - your record was 20 cracks.

On day five you got curious. Why was the noise only at night? Why was it always in the same spot? Most importantly, what the hell was making that noise?

You weren't someone who found the idea of ghosts ridiculous. In fact, the thought of being haunted seemed like a fun story to tell your friends over drinks on your usual Friday night bar crawl. If it was a ghost making that noise in the living room, that would be fine. You just didn't love not knowing.

That fifth night you performed your nightly routine like normal. Skincare, brushed teeth, pajamas. You shut the bathroom light off and walked down the hall to your bedroom. Only tonight, you left your bedroom door open. It was 9:55, so you sat upright on your bed and waited for the crack.

10 pm came and went. 10:30, 11. The crack never came. Dejected and confused, you finally shut the lights off and laid down to sleep.

You fell into a restless slumber, tossing and turning. The lack of… crack… bothered you. Why did it stop? What the hell was it?!

In your fitful sleep, you were acutely aware of the fact that your hair had found its way in front of your face, tickling your nose. You woke very briefly to push it away, but stopped any movement the second you were conscious.

Because you felt the slightest touch sweeping your hair from your face. Which was troubling because you were, of course, alone.

You shot up in bed, slamming the light switch and illuminating the room in a soft glow. You were still alone. But then… who, or what, had touched you?

"What the fuck is happening?" you mused out loud, expecting to be met with silence. Except a new sound emerged from the empty room -

Shhhhh.

"Don't tell me to 'shhh!' You 'shhh!'"

You felt crazy shouting at no one. Even crazier when you heard the noise again.

Shhhhh.

You realized this wasn't just a sound; it was… a voice. So it was a ghost!

Internally high-fiving yourself for solving this mystery, you remembered it was the middle of the night, and you had work in the morning.

"We're not done here," you said to your invisible guest, "we'll talk about this tomorrow."

Somehow you willed yourself to shut the light back off and lay back down. Still uncomfortable with the silence, you set your phone on the nightstand and let it cycle through a playlist of ambient noise. You're back to dozing off when you hear it again.

Shhhhh.

This time the sound is joined by the feeling of someone stroking your hair. A gentle, feather-light touch against your head, sometimes letting a finger trail down your cheek. You didn't want to admit it was soothing, and you already felt crazy. Thinking your apartment was haunted was one thing, but talking to the ghost seemed like a bad way to handle it. But you were oddly comforted by the presence you felt.

"You can stay until I fall asleep, then you gotta go for tonight," you whisper. The phantom hand stills on the side of your face as you speak, resuming it's soothing strokes through your hair once you finish addressing it.

The touch continues until you fall asleep, and so does the new noise.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

Right before you fell into a deep sleep, you swear the noise changed a little bit.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

"Sugar."

The next morning you want to chalk up the weirdness of the night before to a dream, but you know that's not the case. You wake up well-rested and ready to start the day, and notice your bedroom door had somehow shut during the night.

"Thanks for shutting the door," you speak into the empty bedroom, opening your closet to pick out an outfit for the day. You weren't expecting a response to your gratitude, but you smile when a familiar crack sounded from the living room.

You rush to open the bedroom door, knowing the living room will be empty, but knowing your ghost was there. "Hey, crack once for yes, twice for no, ok?" You feel ridiculous until one crack echoes through the room.

While you get ready for work, you play 20 questions.

"Are you a ghost?"

Crack.

"Are you… a woman?"

Crack. Crack.

Interesting… a dude ghost.

"Did you leave after I fell asleep like I asked?"

One incredibly quick crack. You appreciate him respecting you.

By now you're ready to change into your work clothes, so you decide to up the ante. "Do you watch when I get dressed?"

The two cracks couldn't have come quicker. You grin, loving that you have a gentlemanly ghost. But you want to have some fun. It's been a while since you've met a nice, living guy, and having a ghost seems like the perfect opportunity for some built-in male attention.

"Do you… want to watch me get dressed?"

Your smirk falls when no noise is made in response. You kick yourself for scaring him away. You start to stumble over an apology when you hear the same noise from last night.

"Sugar…"

"You talk?! What the hell, dude? I've been having you crack that… whatever it is, when you could've been talking to me this whole time?"

"Sorry, Sugar."

You soften. "Why wouldn't you talk to me before?"

"Too weak."

An interesting response. "What gives you energy?"

"Your attention."

Well. That felt nice to hear. "Lucky for you, dude, I have no one else to talk to around here. If it's attention you need, attention is what you'll get! Now, back to the task at hand… do you want to watch me get dressed?"

This time, a noise you haven't heard yet. A whimper.

"Please, Sugar."

You smirk, moving to stand in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom. Slowly, you bunch your oversized t shirt up over your ass, draw it above your hips, and fist the material up under your breasts, pausing to admire your own figure in the mirror. You turn to the side, watching as your reflection shakes its ass gently.

It's weird flirting with someone you can't see and barely hear. You're feeling both emboldened and shy, sexy and self-conscious. "How's this?"

"Teasin' me?"

You grin. "You said you need my attention to get strong! The longer this takes, the more attention I'm giving you! I'll ask again: this good?"

Crack. Yes.

"What the hell is that noise, anyway?" you ask, mercifully removing your shirt entirely, standing in front of your mirror in nothing but your underwear.

"Uh… a…" another whimper interrupted your ghost's train of thought. "Whip."

"A whip?!"

Crack. Yes.

"Why does a ghost have a whip?" you ask idly, thumbing the hemline of your underwear before sliding them down your legs with a shimmy.

"Long story. How long d'ya have, Sugar?"

You grab for your phone on the nightstand, realizing that if you tease this ghost anymore you'll be late for work. "No time! Last looks, dude! Gotta get dressed!" You pose for a second with your hands on your knees, bent at the waist with your ass wiggling before pulling on your work clothes.

"Really, Sugar? You're gonna leave?"

"I gotta work if I want to be able to afford this place! You don't want me to have to move out so soon, do you? There's so much more attention I want to give you," you pout into the mirror, bottom half clothed, briefly pausing to give your ghost one last look of your bare chest.

"Before you leave, Sugar, let me touch you."

You let your hands fall to your sides, remembering the featherlight touches against your cheek the night before, shivering at the thought of feeling it again. "Go ahead," you whisper into the empty room.

The touch is similar to the one last night, only now it seems stronger. This ghost wasn't kidding about attention making him stronger. Even though you couldn't see him, you can feel his presence behind you. You can feel fingers skating up your arms, stopping at the elbows and trailing back down. The touch disappears only to return on your hips, sliding from the small of your back to wrap around your front. You lift your arms slightly to accommodate him as his hands trail further up your torso, stopping just below the swell of your chest. You feel the ghost hesitate. Normally, if this were happening with someone you could see, you'd lace your fingers through his and coax his hand up to where you need to feel him, but this was all so new still. The ghost can touch you, but can you touch him? Would it look stupid to grope around for his hand? You decide your voice is your greatest asset at this moment.

"I said go ahead."

A groan erupted from behind you, right against your ear, making you shudder. You could almost feel breath against your neck, could almost feel the weight of a head against your shoulder as the ghostly hands dragged themselves up to grope at your chest. Your head falls back and you let out a sigh, your eyes falling closed. The hands tweak at your nipples before soothing the sting with a swipe of a thumb.

You're brought out of your trance when your phone rings. You feel the phantom hands retreat from your chest, a sigh heaving from behind you. Reaching to the bed to grab your phone, you see it's your boss calling. "I've gotta take this, I'm so sorry - hello? Yeah I'm just about to - oh? That sucks, what's the - yeah, no I can do that. OK, see ya!" You hang up and throw your phone back on the bed. The clothes you had yet to put on stay neglected, and what you have put on gets shucked off your body with haste. "You still here?" you call into the seemingly empty room.

Crack.

"Dude, now that I know you can talk, I'm not accepting whip cracks for an answer."

"Still here, Sugar. What was that about?"

"Good news! A pipe burst at my office - I get to 'work from home' today," you explain, making air quotes around "work from home." You know you're not getting shit done today. "So get back over here, we're not done."

You're still standing in front of your full length mirror, admiring your naked form when something starts to… happen… behind you. At first it's a thin mist, then it slowly turns into a more solid, human form. You stare in the reflection dumbfounded as your ghost materializes - he's still somewhat transparent, very obviously not human or living, but shit.

He's hot.

He's dressed in a cowboy hat and two-piece suit. And he wasn't kidding about the whip. It was curled neatly with the handle stuck in his back pocket.

"Oh my god. My house is haunted by the sexiest man alive," you muse, forgetting for a second that he can hear you. The ghost meets your eyes in the mirror's reflection, lips curling into a smirk as he tips his hat.

"Well I'm not alive, but that's mighty kind of you to say, Sugar," the ghost replies, moving closer to you again, "can I finish what I started, now that you don't have to leave? Please? It'd make me a very happy man."

You nod, watching in the mirror as the ghost reaches for you again. He skips the pretense this time, hands going straight to your chest, resuming his kneading and pinching.

"Wha- shit - what's your name? Seems backwards to let you touch me like this when I don't know anything about you," you tease.

"Whiskey. Agent Whiskey, Sugar."

You giggle. "Agent Whiskey isn't a name. What's your real name, and what are you an agent of?"

"Jack Daniels. And I'm stuck haunting this apartment, we have time to learn everything about each other. Stop distractin' me," the ghost punctuates his request with a nibble to your earlobe.

His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation. He kisses down your neck and lands a bite to your shoulder, growling quietly as you moan in front of him.

"Ain't we a sight to see, Sugar? Keep your eyes forward."

Your eyes blink back open as you meet Jack's eyes in the mirror. You watch as his hands skate down your torso, hesitating close to where you want his touch the most. "Can you… will I be able to see you…?" You're not sure how being a ghost wearing clothes works, and you don't know how to ask; you hope he gets the hint.

"The suit stays on; sorry, baby. Gonna have to use your imagination. But, if it's any consolation, I used to look real nice under all this."

"I believe you. Now quit stalling and touch me," you make an experimental grab for his ghostly hand, delighted to be able to curl your fingers around his wrist and tugging it down, down to where he dips into your folds, fingers gathering the slick from your entrance and dragging it up against your clit.

"Let's move to the bed, Sugar. Need to see her."

You waste no time pulling Jack by the wrist to your bed. You prop yourself up against your pillow, legs spread wide and face flush with arousal and anticipation. You watch Jack as he stands at the foot of your bed, gazing intently at your body laid out for him.

"Jesus, Sugar. She's drippin' - it all for me?"

You give Jack a curt nod, beckoning him closer with your outstretched hand. "Come here and touch me, please." You see Jack's face change; where there was once a pained look of arousal, there's now a feral darkness that excites you.

"Since you asked so nicely, baby."

Jack puts his knees onto the edge of your bed and you feel the faintest dip on the mattress. Your breath hitches as you watch him crawl on hands and knees to situate himself between your legs. One hand holds tight to your hip while the other dips once again into your wetness, pulling away and chuckling when you try to buck up into his touch.

"Gotta be patient, beautiful. Your attention made me stronger, but I'll never be back at a hundred percent. 'm tryin'a hold you down, play along."

You agree to Jack's game and push your hips down into the mattress, curling your hand around his at your side. "I'll be good, I promise."

Jack smirks and bends his head down to whisper praise close to your ear, "that's my good fucking girl."

Jack punctuates his words with two ghostly fingers plunging into you. You moan loudly while your free hand grapples for purchase, twisting into your hair and gently pulling. "How long…"

"More than long enough, Sugar."

You swat at Jack's arm; he grins and moves his hand from your hip to slowly circle your clit. "That's not - oh fuck - what I meant. How long have you - uh huh, just like that - been stuck here?"

"Tryin'a focus, woman. Ask me in five minutes."

"Won't have to wait that long, Jack. Not gonna last."

Jack's thumb on your clit speeds up. He adds a third finger to the two working you open, the stretch delicious. Cold and warm, solid and ethereal. You could get used to this.

Suddenly Jack shifts and takes his thumb off your clit. You begin to protest, but find yourself gazing down at him, his face now level with your dripping pussy.

"Just wanna see if I still got it, Sugar."

You feel a sudden emptiness as Jack pulls his fingers free from you and you're about to protest, but before any words can leave your mouth he licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, pointing his tongue at the last second and flicking it against you once, twice…

"Fuck, I'm… shit. Jack, I'm…" Your orgasm hits so hard that what you are is incoherent. So fucked out you can't think straight. If someone asked you your name at this very moment, you wouldn't remember.

"Oh, I know you're comin', sweet girl, ain't gotta tell me. I've got a front row seat to the show. Let go, Sugar. I've got ya."

You ride the wave of pleasure for what feels like forever, hips rolling and panting, soft moans escaping from deep in your throat as you come down. When your eyes open, you find Jack staring intently at your pussy, watching it leak and pulse around nothing.

"So fucking gorgeous, Sugar. Could get used to this."

You instinctually grab at Jack's hair, gently tugging to get him to your eye level. You feel his touch against your face, gentle and cool. "You better get used to it," you smirk, "you're kinda stuck here. Don't know how hauntings work, but trust that I'm not gonna try and get rid of you. Like, ever. Not after that."

[yarmiko-art]

Something bad has happened

This isn't fair, he was just starting to warm up towards her

[haveihitanerve]

Jason's reasons for trying to hurt bruce and doing all he did when he was pit mad- red hood stuff? Insecurity. All the Robins grapple with it. That fear they aren't good enough. They weren't enough. Jason? He realizes the reason Dick “hated” him was because he was jealous of losing robin- of having it be given away to Jason. And now Jason feels the same. Tim has the mantle. Bruce gave it to him… when he was dead. Bruce never cared. Is whats running through his head. He died, he failed, he wasn't good enough to live, to save himself. And Bruce saw it, and replaced him. Its all the insecurity.