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your-worst-knightmare · 4 years

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Red: Pt. 10

Masterlist here

Jason’s whole morning was a mess of bleary-eyed madness. Louis had left the safehouse with Bizarro long before Alfred had arrived in a limo to pick Artemis and Jason up. Both of them didn’t have many belongings save for weapons, which Alfred insisted that they let him take care of.

“Master Jason, it’s wonderful you and Miss Artemis are able to visit this time of year. Your stay will be busy, I must warn you, but everyone will be there.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Jason asked, trying to shake the weariness from his brain.

“Have you really forgotten, Master Jason? The annual Wayne charity gala is tomorrow.”

“Well it seems that you won’t have to call the rest of your family now,” Artemis remarked.

Jason could only slap his forehead. “Alf, i came for business, not to party. We’re all in danger. I mean, we don’t know for sure, but–”

“Then it seems suitable that you wait until at least the gala is over. Most of the family hasn’t arrived yet anyhow. Oh, and Miss Stephanie has arranged a shopping trip for the two of you. She assumes you both hadn’t brought adequate clothing in advance.”

“Aw, Alfred–” he was swiftly cut off by a jab to the side.

“Thank you Alfred. I’m sure Jason can enjoy some time with his family without any talk of business.” Artemis gave Jason a look, and he knew better than to oppose both her and Alfred.

The old man chuckled to himself as he pulled up to Wayne Manor. A full house was always nice, if not a bit of a handful. “I’m sure he can, Miss Artemis, I’m sure he can. Try to enjoy yourselves for a while. In the meantime, let me show you to your rooms.”

In short, Jason was not enjoying himself in the least. He was hungry and tired, and of course stupid Stephanie Brown made him go shopping. And Replacement would never let Damian hear the end of it if Jason dared complain. He would get his revenge. Somehow.

The one person Jason wouldn’t mind seeing wasn’t even in the city. Yeah, because Damian’s got friends now. Like Jason wasn’t the first friend Damian ever had. The little brat left him a note apologizing for his absence, but its formality only made Jason laugh. The kid should be with his friends, maybe learning how to talk like a normal ten-year-old.

Naturally, Steph wouldn’t make Damian go shopping. It was dreadful, with Steph practically hijacking Artemis and leaving Jason and Replacement (Tim) stranded in high end stores suspended in utter confusion. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t know how to shop, it was that stupid Brown wouldn’t let him touch anything without her approval of the item first. That left very few items in the store left for Jason to choose from.

It was simply maddening. Steph finally brought him a green suit and insisted that it was the one. “It’s viridian. It’s so in Jason,” he mocked when she asked to see it on him. He didn’t even get to see what she had gotten Artemis.

He didn’t have to try it on. And hallelujah, he got to go home. Much to nobody’s surprise, he didn’t get much rest when he got back to Wayne Manor either. Jason had scarcely returned to his room when he was tacked by a ten-year old whirlwind. Damian. The boy greeted him in the formal dialect of the League, a habit not yet broken. “Akhi! You came back!”

“Well that’s obvious, isn’t it? Woah, okay, let me breathe here Damian.” The boy obeyed and sat on the bed. He clearly wasn’t ready to leave anytime soon.

“Where have you been?” he asked, crossing his arms.” You haven't visited most– if any of your safehouses lately. I… I’ve been worried.”

Well the kid had changed then. Jason had to give the little prince some credit. The kid would never have said that in his right mind had he still been with the League.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to not even go on patrol? To not answer any messages? You practically disappeared, Todd.” Damian wasn’t buying it. One thing hadn’t changed, that was for sure. The prince would get the truth out of him one way or another. Honestly, Jason was a little (okay, maybe a lot) embarrassed to tell Damian that he’d been caught and in custody for two months. He hadn’t even tried, really tried to get out.

But, Jason figured it was better to be up front. Especially with a family of detectives with a notorious history of using secrets as blackmail.

Damian only scoffed in response.” Tt’. Really, akhi? You’re getting soft.”

“Speak for yourself, brat. Now let me sleep. I’m tired.” He flopped onto the bed, with no regard for the assassin prince still sitting there.

Instead of leaving, Damian snuggled up into the crook of Jason’s arm and soon fell asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his brother’s heart.

Jason’s next interruption (named Artemis) came too early into the next morning. Damian was still where he had fallen asleep, dozing softly. At the sound of a knock, Jason regrettably blinked himself awake. “Come in,” he yawned.

“I see you’ve been able to rest. I was going to ask if you wanted to come train with me.” Artemis raised an eyebrow at the scene. “ It seems that you can tolerate at least one of your brothers' presence.”

“It’s a love-hate relationship.”

The Amazon snorted. “So are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”

“Yeah, I’m coming Red.” He carefully shifted Damian off of himself. Thankfully, the kid’s eyes remained closed. “Wait, before you go can you help me with my shoulder?”

“Are you not capable?” she asked, nevertheless sitting down beside him. Jason pulled off his shirt to let her inspect the wound. Most of his torso was covered in bandages as well as his shoulder. Peeling them back to see how the wound healed was a tedious task. Enhanced healing made it even more annoying on account of never knowing what to expect.

“Ow. Easy, Arty.”

“ Oh, be quiet. You should be fine by tomorrow. Just keep the gauze on for compression,” Artemis said, starting to re-wrap the bandages.

Jason closed his eyes with a small sigh, glad to sit there and do nothing. Relaxing was a weird way to put it, but he couldn’t find any other way to describe it. The tips of her hair brushed his face, surrounding him the scent of her shampoo. For the first time in months, he felt… calm.

“I assume you’ll be able to take care of yourself from here. Meet me downstairs in five.”

“Thanks Princess!” he called after her.

As soon as Artemis left, Damian’s eyes flew open. Jason groaned.”You’ve been awake this whole time?”

Damian nodded, grinning devilishly. “You’re getting soft akhi,” he piped, poking his brother in the ribs.

“And I’m going to kill you if another word comes out of your mouth.” Jason pulled on some suitable clothes for training and shooed Damian out before going to join Artemis.

Surprisingly, the training room was empty. That was especially unusual for this time in the morning with the Bats. Then Jason realized that everyone was probably helping out Alfred downstairs for that night. Not that training was easy work either. But he’d go help after.

“Took you long enough.” Artemis said, smirking. “Warm up and then we spar.”

She was going to kick his butt. He knew it. But he wasn’t going to argue. “Yes ma'am.”

Jason had half a mind to say that being an Amazon was plain cheating. Yeah, he held his own, but barely. The strength of the Lazarus wasn’t always on his side. Then again, Jason didn’t always have the privilege of fighting people his own size.

“Another round?”” Artemis asked, helping him up from the floor.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” he huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. “Next round, I pick the weapon though.”

By the time Artemis was satisfied with the amount of training done, Jason felt like he was going to drop dead on the spot. Which–in a weird way– reminded him of how much he’d missed training with her. She didn’t let anyone get away with slacking off. Neither did Alfred, for that matter, which was why Jason needed to hurry up in the showers or else face the wrath of an all-powerful butler. A butler much too tired to deal with any kind of nonsense.

The evening came faster than Jason had anticipated. He examined his appearance in the mirror, doing his best at looking presentable. At first, he hadn’t been sure of Steph’s choice of colour, but he was surprised to say that he actually looked… good? Fingering the cuffs of his jacket, he eyed the ‘finishing touch’ that Bruce insisted he wear. A Rolex– one that Bruce had originally got Jason for his sixteenth birthday. He’d never gotten to wear it. Death tended to preoccupy a person.

After staring at the timepiece for at least five minutes, he finally made the decision to put it on. He headed downstairs, where a few of Bruce’s close friends as well as the boys were already present. The girls were soon to arrive, fashionably late, as Alfred had put it.

As if on cue, the doors to the hall were thrown open (a bit dramatically if Jason had anything to say about it). And Jason stopped. Wow. The girls all looked supermodel gorgeous. And Artemis– Just woah.

Her dress was clearly made to match his own outfit. Steph had clearly outdone herself there. It was green, high-necked and sleeveless, which flowed elegantly to her shins. Her red hair was pulled back, keeping the delicate curls out of her face and making the designs etched into her side-shave all the more striking. A gold armband circled her bicep, emphasizing her muscular physique.

“Good evening, Jason,” she said coolly, practically gliding across the floor.”Tell me, when did you decide to fulfill your dreams of being a statue?”

“This? Oh, this is a technique used to evade the reporters. You should try it sometime. Works wonders.”

The Amazon’s lips curled upward in amusement. “I see.” She reached across the table to steal an untouched patry from Jason’s plate.

“Hey! I was going to eat that.”

“It can’t possibly be that hard to get another,” she said, taking a bite. “Besides, you weren’t eating it.”

He gave her a look. Artemis shrugged, mouth full. “Ah, it’s fine. I’ll steal another one from the kitchen. Bruce wants us there for a briefing anyway.”

“Briefing?”

“Yeah, so the press doesn’t find anything fishy with us.” It sounded like a weird thing to do, but even when he was a kid, Jason had pre-gala briefings. What to say to the reporters, how to act (well mostly) what impression to give off. There was a whole science to it. Alfred didn’t teach the Bats drama in vain.

The kitchen, which seemed colossal while empty, slowly shrank as more and more people shuffled inside. Bruce quizzed each of them of their roles, and things they were not to do. Jason, for example, was not to get drunk and cuss out the press. Much to his own chagrin, Jason was expected to actually talk to some of the guests, and give off a good impression.

“Remember, you are all representing the Wayne name, even if you don’t bear it. Please act accordingly.”

On the bright side, Jason was able to sneak another pastry out. Man, he’d missed Alfred’s cooking. For all of his redeemable traits, Louis hadn’t been the best chef. It was a step up from the cooking at the correctional facility, but Alfred’s skillset was simply legendary.

The flash of cameras and clamouring reporters soon arrived to the manor. Limos that looked long enough to fit thirty people pulled up one after the other. He remembered watching them as a kid, in awe of the lavish use of their money. He remembered smiling so much at the cameras that his cheeks hurt. He remembered eating so much food that he felt sick afterwards- thereafter getting to wait the rest of the party out in his room. There was something satisfying about knowing there was a party downstairs and choosing not to be a part of it.

Jason was relieved once the guests settled into the hall and calmed down. Because he spent so little time with his own family, he felt like more of a guest himself. His brothers were busy talking to the elite, making small talk about whatever rich people were interested in. Artemis didn’t have much care to mingle, which was a small comfort to Jason. At least he could talk to her and not seem like a total loner.

“Bruce said I have to talk to some people this time.”

“Do you really plan to?”

“Well I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Oh quit your blather Jason. What’s on your mind?”

He leaned an arm on the table, sighing. There were so many things. Coming back to Wayne Manor made him enough of a trainwreck as it was. Add onto that the threat of lurking Owls and the thought of Biz and Louis by themselves didn’t help. And the gala? All of that was the perfect recipe for something to go wrong. Artemis was the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. Well, partially.

“So many things Arty. Everything just piles up, you know?” She nodded solemnly, silently telling him to continue. “And I just…” he stopped, shaking his head, his entire vocabulary ceasing to exist.

She took his hand and looked him in the eye. “I know. It really does happen at the worst times. Family is a difficult thing, Jason, but it’s better to keep them in your life, despite how much you may want to drop-kick some of them off a roof.”

He laughed dryly. “How are you so perfect with everything Princess?”

“Perfect? I’m far from it. But you may keep believing that if you like,” she smiled.

Oh, he was so glad she was back. Her presence alone was strangely soothing. She could say nothing and deliver a whole conversation. He hoped she understood his mess of a mind. Words alone couldn’t convey his thoughts. Life was hard, feelings more so. He’d have to unwind all of that later. Public settings weren’t the place to get emotional.

“How do you think Biz and Louis are doing?” Jason asked, taking a sip of whatever carbonated drink the waiter had given him.

“I’m sure they’re getting along. Louis seems likable enough.”

“I thought you two didn’t get along?”

“Yes, we may not see eye to eye, but I know a sincere man when I see one. He’s dedicated to doing right, and I respect that.”

Jason gave her a small round of applause, making the Amazon roll her eyes. “So glad to see my favorite people getting along.” He raised his glass. “To the reunion of the Outlaws, and you being friendly,”Jason toasted and drained the rest of his drink without another word. Artemis gave him an exasperated look before following suit.

Tipping his glass to the light, he could’ve sworn he saw something. Was that… an owl? There was too much evidence of the Court following them for it not to be. What did they put in his drink? Upon placing the glass down, he nudged Artemis, motioning to his drink. Thankfully, she got his message.

She swirled her own glass around in her hand, watching the last sips slosh around. Finally, she set it on the table. “We really must ask the waiter what mystery drink he is giving out. I simply must have some more,” Artemis said, throwing a little too much enthusiasm into her last sentence.

The guests started to file to the middle of the hall. What the elite of Gotham had with waltzes, Jason would never know. But it seemed like a good way to pass information around the room discreetly. Jason got up, offering a hand to Artemis. “A dance, m’lady?”

“Sounds wonderful.” The pair glided across the floor, Jason grateful for Alfred’s training in this type of thing. He leaned close to Artemis’ ear, scarcely daring to whisper. “We need to tell someone they’re here.”

“We’ll split up,” she breathed. “Find Barbara. I’ll find Dick.”

“‘Kay.”

Jason was just about to hand her off to another partner when Artemis winced. “You okay?”

“Yes, it’s just… my head.” She brought a hand to her temple, grimacing. “I’ve got to go.”

Jason nodded. He could tell Dick himself. “Go on, I’ll meet you later.” He saw her off, and sat down in the corner, trying to locate Dick. He managed to catch his attention, only– his head started to pound too.

“You okay, Jay? You look terrible.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “Some’n messed with–” his tongue felt like lead. Nope nope nope. He needed to leave. “–drink.” he managed, dashing out the door and to the nearest washroom.

#rhato #red hood #jason todd #artemis grace #batfam #rhato 2016 #fanfic #Red:pt10

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 years

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yes, sir

characters: aaron hotchner x reader

word count: 1,090

warnings: dominate!aaron, stress, implied smut

request by @nothing-i-wouldnt-do-for-you: Hi!! Oh my gosh I'm so excited you're starting this blog! I LOVE criminal minds. I've seen basically every season except 13 but I won't spoil it. Will you write a Hotchner x Reader fic about him coming home from a frustrating day at work and basically dominating the reader? Thank you so much if you decide to write it!

summary: aaron has a hard day at work, and all he wants is to come home and take that frustration out o you--in a delicious way.

author’s note: if you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me. if your tag doesn’t work three times in a row (three stories i post in a row) then I will be removing you.

feedback the glue that holds my writing together

tags at the bottom

Looking at the clock, you realized your husband should be home at any minute. You admire what he does, he is an FBI profiler after all. He’s been working long and stressful nights, you felt bad for him when he did come home. With being an FBI profiler meant a lot of hard work which you appreciated. Sure, you miss Aaron sometimes when he came home really early in the night only to go to work early in the morning, but you would never make him feel like he wasn’t enough. He has supported you through some much of your own shit for you not to do the same to him.

To make him feel better when he comes home, you decided to cook one of his favorite meals that never failed to cheer him up. He was an excessive meat lover, so steaks were a good choice to make. Flipping over the slab of meat, you put on the timer before moving onto the potatoes and vegetables. The house smelled like that of a professional chef’s kitchen which made you smile. The minute he walked through those doors, you knew he would have a smile on his face.

Jason had texted you when Aaron left the office to let you know when you could start dinner. It took Aaron approximately 15 minutes to come home from the office, and the food would only take 30. So, that extra 15 minutes gave him time to take a shower and relax before having his favorite meal. About to start planting the vegetables, you heard the door to your house open and close before the sound of keys hitting the ceramic bowl you had by the front door.

“Babe? You home?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he sighed. He didn’t sound very happy, but you hoped that would change. His line of work was really hard to deal with sometimes, and you were there to provide an ear to listen. Without greeting him, you took the potatoes out of the oven to check if they were done, and when they were, you just left them in the oven to warm as you turned it off. Turning the steaks off, you wiped your hands on the kitchen rag before going to find your husband. The fact that he hasn’t come into the kitchen to greet you was weird.

“Aaron? Are you okay?” you asked. He had his head down as he leaned against the door. Whatever happened at work really must have bugged him if the smell of food wasn’t cheering him up. He didn’t answer you as you approached him which was starting to worry you.

“Aaron? Hey, are you okay?” you asked as you took his hands away from his face. He refused to look at you in the eye, and you knew something was seriously wrong.

“Aaron, talk to me. You’re scaring me. Did something happen at work? On a case? Did something happen between you and one of your coworkers?” you kept asking. Before you could finish your last question, he grabbed your shoulders and pinned you against the door. He was strong since all he did was go out in the field, and it always surprised you whenever he did that to you.

“I need you to be quiet,” he said sternly. That remark wasn’t meant to hurt you, he would never do that. He wasn’t annoyed with you or mad, he had a lot of frustration coming off on his end. He needed to release this energy in a healthy way, and you knew exactly what he needed.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered submissively. He was a natural dominate person in bed, and he always went crazy when you called him “sir”. When the word left your mouth, he snapped his chocolate brown eyes to yours, and with each second that passed, they got darker so much so that they looked black. He was only seconds away from having his way with you, and you could tell that. However, you just stayed still and waited for his instruction.

In a flash, he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising way. He didn't need to ask for access inside your mouth, you just gave it to him. This was about him and his needs since he clearly needed it. Reaching up, you went to wrap your arms around his neck when he grabbed them and pinned them above your head in one hand. His other hand trailed down to your hips with a bruising grasp. The tight grips felt so nice, you knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow.

Moaning into his mouth, you bucked your hips into his, but he moved them away at a second’s notice. He was taking this evening at his own pace. It didn’t matter what you wanted, you were going to give it to him anyway. He released your lips only to attach them to your jaw. He left a trail of kisses before reaching your neck. When he found the spot that drove you crazy, he harshly bit into it before soothing the sore flesh with his tongue.

“Sir!” you moaned, tugging on his grip to see if he would let your wrists go. When he gave no move to let you go, you just decided to let this evening happen and see where it was going to go.

“Go upstairs,” he whispered with a strain. He so badly wanted to take you right where you stood, but he had a process that would give you the best sexual experience as well as him, “Take off all your clothes, and kneel by the bed. I want you to wait for me while I get a few things.”

“Yes, sir,” you said seductively, biting your lip when he released you. A part of you wanted to touch him to see how he would react, but this night was not a playing night. You needed to listen to every word he said and followed it to a T. Looking back and forth between his eyes, you left his side to walk upstairs, forgetting about the meal you cooked. All the burners and the over were off, so there was no need to worry about burning the house down.

Aaron watched you walk up the stairs as you swayed his hips, and he smirked when he thought of the night he was going to give to you. He needed this, and he was damn lucky to have a woman like you in his life.

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richiehozierr · 5 years

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Open Arms - Part One: Zig or Zag?

Pairing: teen!Reddie

Summary: Richie and Eddie annoy each other one crisp October evening.

Warnings: Cussing, Angst, Richie being a dick to the only person he’s ever loved (but what’s new?)

Word Count: 1,522

A/N: Hello yes hi this is my very first fic and I hope you like it! There will be four parts to this lil fic, and I’ll try to post a part every other day. Thanks for reading!

“Eds, get a move on, will ya?”

Richie’s eyes are wild behind his glasses, flicking between the walls of tall crop beside him. His red converse are sinking further into the fresh mud with each stomp, dirtying the cuffs of his rolled up jeans. He’ll worry about that later. He searches for any indication, any break in the walls, that would signal some teenager dressed as the Dollar General version of Jason Vorhees was lurking unseen.

“Fuck off. You dragged me into this filthy fucking maze. I could be at Bill’s with the rest of them right now.” Eddie huffs, his breath making small puffs of white clouds. Richie throws a glance back at him and shortens his stride until Eddie falls into step with him. Sometimes he forgets his legs are longer. Eddie shivers next to him, so Richie throws a sinewy arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t be precious, Edward. It’s just a little mud. Lighten up.” Richie smirks. He glances down at his friend out of the corners of his eyes. He isn’t shivering anymore, but Richie isn’t inclined to move his arm just yet. Maybe he still needs him. Eddie shrugs out of his hold dramatically.

“You know what, you can be a real asshat sometimes.” He remarks without any bite.

“Sometimes? Well I have to step up my efforts then.” Richie says with a shit-eating smile as he now walks in front of Eddie, his back to the path ahead of them.

“I have to step up my efforts then.” Eddie mocks in a nasally voice. “I’m Richie and I’m God’s gift to comedy-OW!!” Eddie yelps as Richie gives him a purple nurple, laughing before turning and taking off down the path.

Richie feels Eddie nipping at his heels as he runs. He takes a sudden and disorienting left turn. He zigs right next, then zags around another left corner, cackling. He runs until he can’t hear Eddie’s shaky breaths and curses behind him anymore. He stops to catch his own breath, finally looking around. For a haunted maze, it left a lot to be desired in the haunts department. After what he and his friends had been through, Richie wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, maybe one thing. He walks slowly, listening for Eddie. He hears rustling in the corn next to him on his left...his right?

“Eds?” He calls out. The air is still around him, silent, save for his own heavy breath that was fogging up his glasses. His steps come faster now. What if Eddie had gotten lost and is having an asthma attack? What if he tripped and fell in the mud and had a panic attack? What if Jason Vorhees popped out at him and had literally scared Eddie shitless?

“Eddie!” Richie shouts louder, anxiety growing in his chest, inflating like a red balloon. The all too familiar feeling. He comes to the fork in the road where he zigged. Or did he zag? “Fuck.” He mutters, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting the nausea. Eddie was right, like always. They shouldn’t have come here. He could be holed up in Bill’s garage with the rest of them, sneaking cigarettes with Bev and knocking knees with Eddie on purpose. He just had to be greedy and steal a date idea overheard in the halls the Thursday prior. Now Eddie’s probably hurt, the dumbass, and-

“RICHIE!!” A deep shout booms behind him and an icy hand grabs Richie’s wrist tightly. Richie whirls around, his heart in his throat, only to find Eddie. He’s laughing his ass off. Richie snatches his wrist away.

“Fuck you.” He hisses.

“You wish you could.” Eddie retorts, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Why would I wanna nail you when I’m already nailing your mom every night?”

“Good one, Tozier. Write that one down.”

“By the way, I didn’t know your balls finally dropped, Spaghetti, good for you!”

“Fuck off.”

“Dude, you’d probably actually die without me.”

Eddie laughs, finally, and the tension in Richie’s jaw releases. He slings his arm back around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him close, and that’s the end of that. Eddie was okay, and they were back to normal. They walk back to Richie’s van together, weaving their way through the tall corn. It was comfortably quiet between them. Richie almost liked it better this way.

-------------------------------------------------

“Hey! Watch the fuck out, shit-for-brains!” Eddie cries out as Richie flops onto the already crowded couch in Bill’s garage. After a few disgruntled mutters from Ben and Bev, and a spirited box out attempt from Eddie, he finally wedges his slim hips between Eddie and the arm of the couch. “You’re lucky you have the body mass of a 9 year old.” He spits as Richie settles into his spot, warm and comfy next to him. He pulls the giant blanket that Ben, Bev, and Eddie are sharing across his lap too. Mike and Bill share a love seat and a blanket across from them, and Stan left early, not one for scary movies. Beverly flicks open her pack of Camels and offers the open box to Richie. Somehow, she always knew when he needed one most. Richie takes one and gets a light from her, taking a deep inhale and letting the sting of the smoke in his lungs soothe him after his evening at the pumpkin patch. He felt like an idiot, now, of course. Freaking out over Eddie. Freaking out over nothing. He exhales and gets an exaggerated cough from Eddie on his right.

“You would do this right next to me. You know I have asthma, you asshole, you just blew the smoke right in my damn face.” Eddie shifts himself as far as he can away from Richie, mumbling to himself.

“Hey Eddie? Shut the fuck up. The movie’s starting.” Richie sneers.

“Go to hell, Trashmouth.”

“Aww. Meet you down there, sweetheart.” Richie shoots back as he gives a short tug on Eddie’s earlobe, making the color rise to his cheeks. Ben shushes them both as the movie starts, and Richie flips off Eddie, whose eyes roll so hard they almost fall back into his head.

The title card flashes on the screen after the opening credits: Candyman. Richie keeps his cigarette dangling from his fingertips on the other side of the arm of the couch, trying to keep the smoke away from Eddie so that he’ll rest back into his side, and to his relief, he does. When he looks back over, Ben and Bev are cuddling, almost asleep, and Eddie‘s thick brows are knit together in worry, like they always are. He’s probably thinking about some stupid statistic about how many people die from secondhand smoke a year. A small smile teases the corners of Richie’s lips. That’s his Eds. Richie’s eyes drift down to Eddie’s scowling mouth, and licks his own lips subconsciously. He didn’t put any chapstick on today, he remembers suddenly. He blinks the thought away. Not like it mattered.

“Why are you staring at me, creep?” Eddie asks, his voice softer than his words. Richie stiffens, finally out of his own head.

“You had something on your face.” He says hastily. Fuck. FUCK. He knows.

“What?”

“This.” Thinking fast and stupid, he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke right in Eddie’s face, which immediately turns red with rage. Too far.

“Richie what the fuck, man?!” Eddie coughs and pushes Richie out of his way in his struggle to untangle himself from the group. He finally stands.

“I’m fucking leaving. You’re being an asshole tonight.”

“Eddie, I’ll drive you.” Bev says, now fully awake and trying to diffuse the situation. It’s a role she’s settled in to over the last couple of months. She stops the VCR.

“No, Bev. I’m sorry. I’m sorry guys, but I can’t stand to be around him right now.” Eddie points a finger at Richie. “I’ll just walk.”

“Eds, it’s freezing.” Richie adds, standing, moving towards Eddie “Look, I’m sor-“

“Fuck off, Tozier! I mean it!” Eddie steps back. “I’m going the fuck home so I don’t have to look at your smug ugly face until I’m forced to at school.” He says, his hands balled up at his sides. “And stop staring at me all the fucking time! It’s gross!”

Richie gulps, hard. He hadn’t known that Eddie had been noticing him all this time. Embarrassment warms his cheeks. He looks around the room to find all his friends are staring back at him. Shame rises in his throat like a flood in a basement. His jaw sets.

“Whatever, go cry to your fucking mom about it, Eddie. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have her pussy son back home under her ‘careful watch’. Oh, and next time you’re on your period, let me know and I’ll bring you a tampon.” Richie doubles down, winning. He always wins in fights like these, and he always feels sick afterwards. He turns away and stomps back to the couch and hears the slam of Bill’s side garage door. He angrily puts his cigarette out in Bev’s Coke can.

“Play the fucking movie.”

#reddie #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it 2019 #reddie fan fiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #open arms fic #mine #richie x eddie #teen!reddie

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47615902

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire--for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there's more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment, but if anyone’s interested, message me through Tumblr.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #art #gods in disguise #wings

Canon-Compliance: Follows the New Earth continuity, with elements of New 52 (ie the ones that don’t completely contradict everything that happened pre-Flashpoint). Ignores Rebirth completely. So, up to about 2016 in terms of publication dates? Robins War happened, but Red Hood hasn’t met Artemis or Bizarro, and nothing bad has happened to Roy ffs!

———————————————————————————————————–

“Of all the warehouses in all the towns in all the world, you grappled onto mine.”

Tim suppresses a groan at the faux amusement even a voice modulator can’t disguise and prepares for the likelihood that his careful planning is about to go to shit. It’s as irritating as the customary flutter in his stomach.

He shifts out of his crouch at the edge of the warehouse skylight and inclines his head to the right, taking in the familiar leather-clad figure and expressionless red helmet. He’s not sure how he didn’t sense the larger man approach or at least hear the tread of his boots.

Jason knows how to be quiet when he needs to be.

Quirks of being a Robin; the habit of creeping around like a living shadow doesn’t disappear, even years after the fact.

“This isn’t your warehouse,” Tim replies at last, careful to keep his tone neutral and not betraying his irritation. While he doubts his predecessor would try to take him out from behind (he’s 89% sure, at least), Red Hood has tried to kill him several times and in several ways in the past.

Jason acts as if he didn’t hear him.

“Might be time to go back to school, Timbers, if you can’t even recognize a Casablanca reference. I thought you’re supposed to be the cultured one.”

“Except for Star Wars, I prefer my movies to be from the post-John Hughes era.”

“Heathen.”

It’s hard to tell if Jason is shuddering in disgust, or in response to the biting November chill; either is possible. Leather isn’t known for its insulating properties.

On nights like this, Tim can’t help being way more in awe of former Robins. When he wore the colors, he had thermal warmers built into his suit—Dick and Jason used to do this job in short-pants.

“Anyway, I’d never buy land here,” Jason continues, a deceptive nonchalance in his tone putting Tim on edge. “It’s right in a flood zone. I dunno about you, but I had enough floods to last a lifetime.”

“Hood, what are you doing here?”

“Should ask you that. I thought you were in California or something. Team-building exercises with the other kiddy heroes or whatever it is you do.”

Tim ignores the way his heart jumps at the notion that Jason gave any attention to his whereabouts. “Business trip. What’s your excuse?”

“Missed the smell of smog and sewer. Needed to get my fix.”

Right, because I really expected him to tell me the actual truth.

“Uh-huh.”

The two former Robins size each other up for several seconds, and not for the first time, Tim curses the helmet hiding Jason’s face. He hates not being able to read people, but in his experience, not being able to read Jason has the potential to turn deadly.

“Are we done?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, we’re good. Now make like a Bat and step off.” Jason’s reached into his side holsters—and yes, there are the modified M1911 pistols he favors. Tim’s awareness of his position between Jason and the skylight grows. “I’ve got a creep that needs to fear of Hood put in him.”

There is an implicit order to back off, but Tim squares his shoulders.

As if that’s ever worked on any of us.

He has no intention of relinquishing his case, and not just because he dislikes Jason’s style of justice. Tim gets sidelined enough by both Batmans and Robin whenever he’s in Gotham, he won’t knuckle under because Red Hood also demands it. Tim might be a bit in love with the guy, but he knows how to compartmentalize.

His feelings are inconvenient, but he’s resigned himself to them. He can pinpoint the exact moment it started to happen.

(His childhood fascination with Robin doesn’t count, even if it was watching Jason bulldoze his path through petty criminals that made him breathless and giddy in a way watching Dick never had.)

Tim blames the waffles.

No, that’s not right; he blames himself for asking Jason to stay for the waffles.

And the talking.

Which led to the joking.

Which led to that one moment where Jason, with syrup all down his chin, laughed at one of Tim’s throway remarks. Laughed, not sneered or scoffed, but genuinely laughed. It was unguarded and untouched by bitterness, warm and rich and his smile was that cocky twist Tim could remember from so many years ago. Something in Tim’s chest pulled tight, his mouth going dry, and he felt lightheaded.

He should have known at that exact moment, because that’s what happened with Steph, when he looked at her one day and realized, he liked her.

Except with Jason, Tim thought he was just recovering from his surprise that his predecessor agreed to stick around for a while. And that they were getting along and that Jason was laughing.

After that, it was a slow roll toward the inevitable that he unknowingly (totally knowingly) ignored. He’s always excelled at shielding himself from his own feelings—had to be. But every time they met each other on random patrols that crossed over, or amid the monthly major crisis involving the whole Family or when Tim ran into him at the manor visiting Alfred, that buoyant emotion returned, stronger each time.

Sometimes he lets himself imagine that Jason gravitates to him more than anyone else. It fills him with the same dizzy warmth as whenever Jason gives him a look—one of those conspiratorial ones like he and Tim are sharing a joke, except half the time Tim doesn’t know what the joke is and the other half he’s sure it’s him, because what moron falls for the guy that’s tried and almost succeeded in killing him more times than he likes to admit?

He keeps quiet about his feelings, though. It’s not as if it’s something that will ever pan out. It’s simiar to having a crush on a celebrity; fun, if a little sad, to dream about, but never serious. In private, he figures he has a better chance of a healthy relationship with Lynx than with Jason.

He’s accepted that and intends to go on with his life.

“I lose you somewhere there?”

Jason’s voice startles Tim out of his head—he realizes he’s been silent for about thirty seconds—and he gives himself a mental shake. “Just trying to figure out your angle. This isn’t really your…thing.”

“Shows what you know.”

Arguments with Jason are an exercise in futility and Tim refuses to justify his continued involvement in his own investigation—call if professional pride. Instead, he restructures his plan for apprehending his target, accounting for the new and often volatile presence of the Red Hood. He wasn’t looking for a team-up, but he’s pretty sure that’s what’s about to happen.

Tim sighs inwardly.

Just because he’s used to his plans imploding because of Jason, doesn’t mean he has to like it. As to why Jason’s here, it only takes a mental review of the case to figure it out.

“Bunny Vreeland?” he guesses.

“Got it in one.”

Tim nods, because given the specifics of this case, that would be the angle Jason focussed on.

A spate of burglaries have occurred across the city, resulting in Gotham’s elite families and institutions losing valuable pieces of art. Normally Tim would leave a case like this to the GCPD—it should be pretty open-shut, since every theft that’s occurred has been witnessed by the victim.

Except, none of the witnesses seem to be able to recall anything that happened. And somehow, the extant security footage has offered no answers either. As for museums and galleries, those meant to be on guard with security were discovered…doing other things. A lot of them were found in some rather compromising positions, both alone and when working with a partner.

(Tim suppresses a shudder. He could have gone his entire life without seeing the footage a sweat-stained, middle-aged rent-a-cop taking care of himself the Natural History Museum’s security office.)

None of the victims remember how they ended up that way.

That sort of thing, he’d normally suspect it involved Poison Ivy, but she always leaves spores or trails of toxin behind. Every crime scene so far has been clean of any trace evidence.

Whoever is cutting a swath through Gotham’s art collectors has a specific taste—paintings, sculptures and wood cuttings with decidedly risqué themes. Given the behavior of the witnesses and security personnel, it’s entirely conceivable that there’s a metahuman with some kind of… pheromone projection ability running around Gotham. That alone wouldn’t draw Jason’s attention. Except, the latest person to fall prey to the thief was a teenaged girl. And while the age of consent in New Jersey is sixteen, the consenter in question needs to remember giving it to be valid.

Hence Red Hood’s involvement.

“That happened yesterday,” Tim points out. He’s not sure what is more annoying to him: the fact he’s been on this case for a week and Jason thinks he can show up and take it from him, or that Jason’s been looking into it for less than twenty-four hours and has already tracked down the suspect. “How did you figure out you should come here?”

Okay, so it’s probably the latter.

“It’s art, right? Whoever’s doing this need somewhere to store the pieces, even if it’s only waiting to sell them off. And it’d have to be somewhere easy to get in and out of without drawing attention. I kept an ear out for any property changing hands around here that was inside the theft radius.”

“I checked recent property purchases, though. There haven’t been any for the past two months.”

“Well, there wouldn’t be any records of it if it was a handshake deal—which this was,” Jason replies. “It might not be on the record, but this place is now under the ownership of a Steven Howard.” He tilts his head to one side, and Tim suspects he’s being smirked at. “Why, what overly complicated scheme did you come up with to find this guy?”

There’s that teasing again, although the amusement is more genuine this time. Tim hopes the cowl covers enough of his face to hide the flush in his cheeks.

“I used tonight’s WE charity auction to showcase several pieces remaining from my parents’ collection, specifically those that fit the tastes of our thief,” he explains. “It was a last-minute decision, but I know a certain reporter that’s more than happy to plaster my name across newspapers and social media everywhere.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I was hoping to catch the guy in the act, but I got intercepted by a bunch of Lockheed Martin reps and couldn’t get away.”

“Probably for the best, or he’d have put the whammy on you, too.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t say he would rather it had been him than the event organizer; the poor woman had been frazzled enough before succumbing to the wiles of the mystery thief. “I had a contingency if it happened.” Specifically, a taser in the sleeve of his suit. “Luckily, I left microtracers on the stolen pieces and used the GPS to find where they were taken.”

“How did you manage that? This guy’s been knocking out every electrical device he’s gone up against.”

“Devices that are turned on, yes. You don’t need a GPS to be turned on to trace it—”

His explanation trails off as the computer in his cowl alerts him to someone setting off the motion sensors he planted a half-hour earlier. The thief was gone by the time Tim arrived at this warehouse, but he knew he would be back.

Showtime.

The shipping area is surprisingly empty but based on the security-feeds he’s hacked into dozens of stolen relics—paintings, sculptures and photographs fill the office. The ones he used as bait—a series of Edo-period shunga—have been placed with some prominence in the middle of the room.

He adjusts the screens within his cowl, toggling through nine different enhanced vision modes before he settles on heat-vision. Since cameras don’t seem to pick up this thief, he’s hoping thermal radiation will be a better bet.

Leather shifts and out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jason crouch down beside him.

Looks like he’s fine with us teaming up, at least.

Out loud, he says, “Wait for my signal. We have to confirm before we engage.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” is the snarky reply.

Tim rolls his eyes and settles back into his observational position.

Jason doesn’t like silence, or at least that’s what Tim thinks because he can’t think of a single instance where they worked together that the older vigilante didn’t run his mouth. Even now, he only manages for several minutes of quiet, shifting his weight back and forth impatiently, before he asks, “So what’s your interest in this? Gotham’s elite getting duped isn’t really your thing anymore. The way I hear, you’re a lot more international these days.”

Tim’s eyes don’t leave the window.

“This is international. There were similar crimes committed in Boston last week, which stopped once the thefts started here in Gotham. Before Boston it was St. John’s, before that Dublin, London—as far as I can tell, it originated in Amsterdam.”

“What’s in Amsterdam?”

“Besides spider assassins and stroopwafel? Catwoman. Except it can’t be her because when the second spate of incidents started up in London, she was in Innsbruck casing the Swarovski exhibit.”

“Then how’d you get a beat on this guy? I got nothing from the security footage. It’s like most of it was erased or malfunctioned.”

“It wasn’t easy. Vague witness statements and enhancing whatever footage was available, which barely helped. By accident, I caught something reflected in a shop window and that was the most tangible evidence.”

“So the guy doesn’t show up on cameras, but still has a reflection. So not a vampire.”

“Not human, either, I think. Somehow, this guy made it from Dublin to St. John’s without being flagged by any checkpoint or even Customs. There are no flight manifests, commercial or charter, that include passengers of his description. Or line up with his times of disappearance. I’ve got a second-hand witness description of him in a Boston lounge at ten o’clock last Monday. Fifteen minutes later on the same day, someone saw him walking around the Wedgewood Museum here in Gotham.”

“That’s where the first theft took place.” Jason makes crosses his arms. “Even if he had access to a plane that travels Mach 1, he wouldn’t get here that fast. Meta?”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense, since it looks like whatever his powers, he can turn them off and on at will. Probably only uses them when he’s committing the break-ins.”

“And the—wait. There he is.”

They both go silent and watch the suspect enter.

It’s a bit anticlimactic.

Steven Howard looks nothing like a suave master thief that can stir up lustful feelings in anyone. Slender, perhaps as tall as Tim but with a slighter build, dressed in skinny jeans, several layers of shirts and thick black gloves. His dirty blond hair is literally filthy, hanging in the mats that white people try to pass off as dreadlocks, and he’s wearing tinted shades. Inside. At night.

Jason is just as unimpressed.

“Are you kidding me?” he hisses. “This scrawny, pale douche wearing sunglasses at night? He looks like someone didn’t realize Woodstock is over.”

They continue to observe as Howard shuffles into the middle of the room, carrying a huge paper bad with what appears to be enough Batburger to feed twelve people.

“It seems consistent with the descriptions I have,” Tim says, doubtful. “He just… doesn’t seem the type.” Jason is already standing, ready to dive through the skylight and confront the guy, but Tim stops him, throwing an arm out in front of him. “If he’s a meta, we need to have some idea of his capabilities first.”

“Or we knock him out before he knows we’re there and figure that out later.”

“If you want to get hit with whatever pheromones he gives off, be my guest, I promise I won’t take any blackmail videos,” Tim says, and that at least makes Jason pause and reassess.

Below, Howard places the takeout on a pile of crates, and strolls over to the Japanese prints. He considers them carefully for several seconds, before shucking his gloves and reaching forward, stroking his hand across the surface. Then, he presses his forehead against it, fingers caressing the edges.

“Clearly not concerned with artifact preservation.”

“That’s weird, right? Rich people don’t usually walk around feeling up pieces of art?”

“I don’t know, Hood, do you?”

“I’m not rich.”

“You steal literal fortunes from gangsters.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I keep much of it. And I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like a few other people I could name.”

“Bite me.”

“Kinky.”

The other man is obviously being a smart-ass, but Tim still clenches his fist and hopes his cowl is low enough on his face to disguise the flood of color in his cheeks.

Down below, Howard straightens up and tugs his shirts off.

“What the hell?” Jason hisses. “We’d better not be out to watch this guy beat off in front of a painting!”

Before Tim can respond, the lights in the warehouse flicker, as if hit by a sudden power surge. Howard rolls his shoulders, like he’s warming up for exercise, and there’s an odd snap that echoes even this high up.

Two enormous feathered appendages erupt from the man’s back, like something out of a video game, except this is real life. One minute there’s nothing occupying the space behind him, and a beat later feathers flare out to both sides, spanning almost the entire office.

“Holy shit. Are those… wings?”

“You mean you’re seeing them too? And here I figured I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

“Knowing you, probably not.”

“Still want to jump in without a plan?”

“Shut up.”

Tim’s fingers fly over the keyboard of his wrist computer, manually inputting characteristics since he can’t seem to capture the guy’s face on his device. “Whoever or whatever he is, he’s a complete ghost. He doesn’t show up on any of the usual databases. Which is surprising, because, wings?”

Jason shakes his head, slow as if trying to dispel disbelief. “One thing’s for sure, this is definitely our guy…”

There is a squeal of tires from behind them, and Tim’s head whips toward the loading dock below the warehouse. He fiddles with his wrist computer, tapping into satellite imagery to see from the angle he can’t. A half dozen black SUVs swerve into the lot and a wave of men pile out, dressed in black and carrying a varied assortment of firearms.

And there goes the rest of my plan…

⁂

Jason creeps to the edge of the warehouse roof to check out the new arrivals, cursing against the newest complication; Red Robin showing up on his patrol and skinny white boys with wings weren’t bad enough, now he’s got to deal with gangster too?

This was supposed to be an easy night. Break a few bones, shatter a kneecap or two, then go finish off that leftover pizza.

He suspects that whatever this is, it’s going to take up the rest of his patrol.

“Who is it?” Tim wants to know, no doubt fiddling with his fancy tech to, like, use satellite imagining figuring it out instead using his eyes.

Nerd.

“I’m seeing a lot of Kalashnikovs and Makarovs,” Jason replies, tapping his comm so he doesn’t need to shout and give away their position.

“Russian? Ivgene maybe?”

“Bratva, I think. Those guys’ve been trying to push into Gotham since Alex Kosov got arrested and the Odessa Mob started to flounder.”

“Hm. I think you’re right. I’m going over the list of theft vics again, and Ishmael Knyazev is on it.”

“Knyazev…why does that sound familiar—wait. Like Anatoly Knyazev? KGBeast?”

“His younger brother.”

“Shit.”

“I’m pretty sure those Degas’ down there in the warehouse belong to him.”

“Guess he holds a grudge…”

Down on the pavement, the men spread out, a bulky guy bearing some resemblance to Slade Wilson but without the muscles gives orders. He barks at his men to surround the building, ordering them to retrieve the paintings and whatever else appears valuable, and detain the thief for their boss to speak to.

Jason snorts, because he knows what constitutes a Russian mafia talking-to. Steven Howard, or whoever he is, is about to have a lot in common with a plucked turkey. Assuming he goes quietly, which Jason isn’t entirely sure of; they still don’t know what wing-boy is capable of.

As he returns to the skylight, he notes Tim already standing and doing a pat-down check of his equipment.

“If they’re here to address a grudge with this guy, we need to get down there before it gets ugly. I figure we have about four minutes before they infiltrate the place.”

“What happened to not just jumping in?”

“About two dozen Bratva members.”

“Yeah, so? What should we care?” Jason counters. “A bunch of scumbags tearing each other apart sounds like a night off to me. And if Feathers there takes a bullet or three, even better.”

Tim faces him dead-on then, and Jason can imagine the reproachful look beneath his stupid cowl. “Theft isn’t a capital offense.”

“Rape is.”

In his mind, anyway.

“Not according to New Jersey Law, and we don’t get to make that call. That’s what the courts are for, and that’s where this guy is going after I interrogate him.”

Jason huffs and narrows his eyes. “We really gonna have this discussion now, kid?”

Tim bristles and turns away.

“No,” he retorts, “because we don’t have time. I’m going in—with or without you.”

And without sparing another glance at him, Tim takes a running leap and jumps through the skylight to mitigate impending disaster.

Jason remains still for a beat, watching as Red Robin plummet through the air to the warehouse below, glass and metal exploding around him, and then curses.

Because, of course his replacement is going to make it his business. Jason’s perfectly content to let these low lives take each other out—death by mobster is a pretty karmic fate for a rapist, in his opinion.

Tim hits the ground several feet behind their mark, who whirls around and stares with wide eyes. The feathers in his giant wings puff up, and he bends into a defensive crouch, a snarl upon his lips.

“Who the—you! What are you doing here?” ‘Howard’ snaps, clenching his fists.

“Getting you out of here before you become a pincushion,” Red Robin growls, snapping a hand outward to grab at him. “And you’re going to answer some questions.”

“Don’t touch me—!”

“Then get moving, or we’re both—”

Apparently, Tim’s estimate was about three minutes off, because there are muffled explosions from the entrances of the warehouse and then the mobsters are piling in, shouting commands and threats, guns in hand.

“—in trouble.”

Several men fire warning shots into the air, some of which bury themselves in the frame of the portraits nearest Tim and Howard, who gives a growl and shoves away from Tim, stalking toward the incoming threat. His wings flare up in anger. “You brutes dare to—!”

But his approach startles the mobsters, who apparently weren’t expecting to encounter a shirtless winged man coming after them.

Easily startled and trigger-happy—never a good combination.

Tim’s leg snaps out, sweeping Steve’s feet out from under him, just in time to save him from the next wave of bullets ripping through the air where his head was. As Tim lands on the ground with one hand, he uses his other to throw a fistful of R-shuriken that embed themselves in the shoulder of the nearest mobster, who drops his gun with pained curses.

Ah, hell.

Jason leaps over the ruined frame of the skylight.

If anyone asks later, it’s because he doesn’t want to explain to Alfred why the poster child of the family got killed in a mob shoot-out on his watch.

(And yes, just Alfred, because while everyone else can go fuck themselves, the number one rule of the family is that you don’t upset the kindly old Englishman that puts up with literal batshit.)

But the reality is, he’s not about to let the only Bat he trusts become riddled with bullets.

Tim isn’t his family, or a friend—they don’t know each other well enough for that—but there’s always been a kind of certainty to him, so Jason knows exactly where he stands with the other vigilante. And that he can turn his back on him without having to worry about an incoming knife or a nerve-strike.

When they first met, he zeroed in on Tim because of lingering resentment and a burning desire for vengeance on his replacement, misdirected as that might have been. Now that he’s mostly over the madness of the Lazarus Pit and endured a few grudging family team-ups in the face of Gotham’s usual psychopaths, his tendency to cross paths with Red Robin feels like it’s motivated by something more complicated. There’s a connection between them, a shared experience of being the replacement that no one really wanted, constantly measured against the legacy of their predecessor and then cast aside with painful ease. They’re outsiders in the family, in a way that neither Dick nor Damian will ever be, and in his own screwed up way, Jason is a bit protective of the kid.

(Not that he intends ever to admit that.)

So yeah, going after Tim isn’t really a choice.

Can’t promise I won’t shoot that winged fucker for causing all this trouble, though.

As he lands in a heavy crouch, Jason notices Tim’s mouth part in surprise; he can’t help being insulted by that.

Sure, they’re relationship can at best be described as limbo, but the kid should know by now Jason no longer hates him with a fiery passion. If he must partner with any of the Bats, he sticks close by Tim, and not only because he has less trouble asking him for help than Dick or Bruce.

(Seriously, the last time he called in a favor with Dick, he couldn’t even get the word out.)

Tim, back on his feet now, sends another hapless gunman flying in Jason’s direction with a well-placed right hook; the guy’s eyes go wide at the sight of the Red Hood, who swings and backhands him into unconsciousness. As the body goes limp, Jason grabs the falling gun with one hand, and uses the other to prop the mobster up as a shield.

Shoving him out in front of him, Jason ducks behind the body to avoid the rain of bullets now coming at him courtesy of this guy’s buddies, carefully inching forward behind his human shield.

“No killing!” Red Robin snaps from across the room; he tosses a tiny device at two more guys, and as it explodes, a controlled concussive blast knocks them to the ground.

“I’m not killing anyone.”

“You’re not exactly preventing it!”

“Everyone’s a critic…”

Still, at the next opportune moment, he throws the man aside and shoots the guns out of the hands of the three shooters, before whirling around to kneecap the fourth that sneaks up from behind him.

One of the injured men tries to come at him again, this time with a knife, but Jason ducks the clumsy blow with ease, punching him in the gut and dragging him into a headlock as he doubles over. He swings him to the ground, takes another shot to hobble him, and then ducks as the two other mobsters crowd him.

Howard looks like he’s trying to inch away from the firefight, but he’s sent back to the ground with a well-placed tap from Red Robin’s bo staff.

“Don’t go flying off just yet,” Tim growls, then vaults over him and puts himself between the winged man and another cadre of mobsters, sweeping his cape in front of them both to shield them.

Must have upgraded it to be bulletproof since I last saw him…

Jason throws one arm up to catch a downward swing from his nearest opponent, twists his body to avoid his comrade, and then strikes the latter in the face, rolling and twisting the arm in his grasp to send the man backward. Both now on the floor, he downs them with two precise shots to the knees, and then stalks forward to finish another with a front-kick to the sternum.

Nine down—how many left?

There’s a lull in the gunfire, and Jason engages his helmet’s infrared system to find the remaining mobsters; they appear to be retreating for the moment, but the thermal readings suggest they aren’t going far.

“Got an exit strategy?” he prompts, backing toward Tim and their hapless charge, guns still primed to shoot.

“You seriously still need to ask?”

“Does it involve going up? Because I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Tim follows Jason’s gaze toward the skylight where the Slade lookalike is perched, disengaging the safety on what Jason recognizes almost too late as a Dragunov.

And ten to one the fucker’s primed with armor-piercing rounds!

There’s only time for Jason to get one person down and to safety, and between the winged bastard that caused all of this, and Tim, there’s no contest.

He vaults forward as the first shots thunder through the air, throwing himself at Tim as bullets careen into Howard. Jason doesn’t know if it hits him anywhere vital, but they do pierce through the thick wings, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Several of the same bullets plow into Jason’s shoulder when he can’t quite move out of the way in time. He feels blood blossoming across his skin—not the numbing, bone-deep ache of a major injury, but more of a graze—as he lands on Tim’s less than cushioning body.

“Christ, kid, eat a sandwich,” he growls, tightening his hold on the kid and rolling them both out of the path of fire. With an inelegant inchworm crawl that should embarrass anyone trained by Dick Grayson, he manages to get them over to a bunch of crates to provide cover.

It’s just in time, too, since another stray bullet glances across Jason’s helmet; this isn’t as lucky as the body armor. The screen shatters and his comm fizzles out from the force of the shot, and Jason snarls out a breathless oath at the pain and sudden disorientation.

There’s another dull roar, a second round of automatic fire, and this time its Tim knocking him out of its path, dragging them lower down behind the crates.

A beat later, Jason senses fingers scrabbling at the catches of his helmet—

“Ja—! Hood—you alrigh—?!”

And then the helmet is off, and Tim looms over him. He is surprisingly clear in Jason’s vision considering the hit he just took. The cowl hides his eyes, but the way his jaw clenches suggests worry.

Something shoots through Jason then, hitting him like a blow to the gut, as if someone snuck up behind him and sucker-punched him. But there’s no one near him except Tim, probably wouldn’t coldcock someone while he’s down.

For a moment, Jason imagines the entire world slows, and the roar of gunfire fades out, replaced by a puzzling whispering that drowns everything else out:

“—should e’er I go, will you go with me--?”

“—come back to me—”

“—I would that you would leave them all to perish—”

“—bury us together—”

There’s a harsh, swooping sensation in his stomach and Jason gasps for breath, the pain of the action refocussing him on his immediate surroundings. Sound returns, the echoing words bleeding into Red Robin’s voice in an eerie double timbre.

“Hood, answer me! Are you okay?!” Red Robin demands, and then lowers his voice into a hiss, “Jason!”

Physically shaking his head to clear it, Jason forces his concentration past the strange haze surrounding him and pushes the other vigilante away, pausing only briefly to assess that he hasn’t been shot too.

“Not cool, man, secret identity, remember?” he grumbles.

“You’re still wearing a mask,” Tim shoots back, but what would normally sound waspish for him sounds tense. “Or half of one at least.”

Jason grunts in response, digging into his pocket for the spare domino he keeps on hand, peels the backing off the adhesive strip and fixes it to his face. He peeks around the edge of the crates to study the sniper up high, while Tim cranes to check on their mark; Howard is still moving, shoulders and wings shifting like he’s trying to get up. They need to get him out of the line of fire, much as Jason would rather not, and stop the guy from bleeding out.

Another barrage of bullets demolishes the top edges of the crates.

“Police are on their way,” Tim tells him, flicking something on his wrist computer.

“Awesome. Just in time to identify our corpses.”

“As if you haven’t had worse,” Tim snorts, studying the projected display. “All the exits are covered; unfriendlies on our four, six and nine.”

“And the one up top.”

Another bullet embeds itself three inches from Jason’s head. He and Tim consider each other for a second, and the younger man digs another handful of gadgets from his bandolier. He juts his chin at the skylight, his meaning plain, and Jason nods.

Simple enough plan. Of course, it’d be nice if there was something to distract them a bit more. I really don’t want to get shot again just now—

Their buddy Howard decides that’s the optimal moment to try to get up again, pushing himself to his feet with a snarl. His wings unfurl with a whump sound, the blast of air rippling from them sending a few of the nearer mobsters staggering. It has the added effect of drawing their attention, and for a moment, there’s a lull in the amount of projectiles heading for Jason and Tim as the gunmen focus on the new threat.

“That’ll work.”

“Go!”

They burst out from behind the crates, Jason already shooting several rounds at the sniper up top, while Tim flings a handful of circular pods at the nearest enemies. This first wave of devices are knockout gas, which downs the two closest mobsters and makes Steve cough and stagger.

Jason’s target pulls back to avoid his attack, but isn’t fast enough, ends up taking a shot to the calf and staggering forward. He plummets to the ground, and there’s a familiar sound of bone cracking—Sorry, asshole, that sounded like a femur—and then Jason swings around to take out the trio sneaking up on them from behind.

Tim automatically ducks beneath his arms, neatly avoiding the barrage of bullets, and tosses another handful of gadgets; this time, upon contact, wires snap out and wrap around the attackers, making several overbalance while the others lose grip on their weapons. Jason’s clip is empty now, and so he drops his own guns, pulls out the modified grapple gun and fires; it punches through the shoulder of one guy, and Jason retracts it, pulling him forward and then downing him with a punch to the jaw.

Red Robin’s last device is something metallic that lands in the middle of the floor and vibrates with a startling intensity; Jason’s about to make a lewd joke, when his grapple is tugged out of his hands—along with every other metallic weapon nearby, which collect in a pile around the device.

“Really?” Jason grouses.

“Like you really need a weapon,” Tim shoots back; he’s already got his bo staff primed and ready—Must be made of some non-metallic polymer this time around—and sweeps the legs out from under some stragglers.

Jason decides to show his feelings on the matter by plowing forward and brawling with the remaining members of the mob. He doesn’t pull his punches, listening to the snap of forearms and crack of broken ankles and cries of pain.

And as suddenly as it started, it’s quiet again.

The warehouse is in ruins—along with quite a few of the relics.

Howard gapes around. “You animals. You absolute savages! You just…look at this!”

“Hope you have insurance,” Jason quips.

“Don’t really care if you don’t,” Tim adds, bringing out one of the remaining pods; he snaps it open before Steven can say anything, and rope wires explode outward to wrap around him, wings and all. “Now, let’s go have a conversation before the police show up.”

Grabbing hold of the guy by the front, he fires his grapple and flies upward; Jason stares after him for a bit longer than a blink, shakes his head. After tugging his grapple out of the pile of weapons (with more difficulty than he’d like), he follows.

Sirens scream in the distance, as he and Tim face down the winged man who is teetering a bit as he tries to keep balance.

“Well, that’s just rude,” he mutters, his pinched expression reminiscent of Damian’s permanently constipated look. “And a waste, really.”

He closes his eyes in concentration, and the wings vanish, causing Tim’s bindings to loosen. Both Tim and Jason leap forward to grab him in case he tries to make a run for it, but he sidesteps them with surprising ease.

“Knock it off, I’m not going anywhere,” he snaps before they can try again. “What’s the point, you just destroyed my pad.”

“You’d think you’d be more bothered about having been shot,” Tim deadpans, and then studies the shirtless man with a frown on his lips. “Or not.”

There isn’t a sign injury on him.

“I heal fast.”

“Good to know,” Jason says.

Without another word, he snaps head forward and headbutts the pasty-faced bastard. Who crumples to the ground once more.

“Hood!” Red Robin cries in protest and recrimination.

“What? It was that or a bullet.”

Red Robin pulls him backward and away from their detainee, mouth turning downward. Jason intends to mirror the expression right back—he isn’t in the mood for Tim’s bitch-face—but his vision falters a bit, tunneling a little as it settles on Tim’s form.

Okay, so that was a bad idea. If I didn’t have a concussion before…

“Man, you really shouldn’t have done that…” their winged detainee mumbles, picking himself back off the ground and glares at Jason through bleary, bloodshot eyes. “I mean, if you weren’t screwed before by the bullet, you definitely will be now.” His gaze flicks to Tim, and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a way Jason doesn’t like. “Probably quite literally.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jason snaps, finger itching towards a trigger once again.

“That’s not important,” Tim interrupts. “I want to know who this guy is. Metas tend to avoid Gotham.”

“Well, darling, I’m not a meta.”

“Then what the hell are you? Because those wings ain’t human,” Jason growls. “And this is the only time we’ll ask nicely.”

The winged man draws himself up, somehow managing to loom despite the fact he’s perhaps an inch taller than Tim and narrows his eyes at them like he’s looking at vermin.

“I am Eros,” he says, lifting his chin, “the God of Love.”

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #tim drake #jason todd #eros (new earth)#mythology #art #gods in disguise #wings #violet writes #drama #angst #introspection

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onlyinmyimagination · 5 years

Text

Love is Blind

Jason Todd X Reader

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

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

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

Genre: Romance, fluff I guess idk

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

Warnings: Some foul language.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not what you think!”

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

“Yeah, but for a good reason!”

“And what reason would that be?”

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

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

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

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

“Well that’s her loss.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No guarantees, cupid.”

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

“That’s pretty cold of you to say.”

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

“Brrr...chilly.”

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

“You’re holding up just fine.”

“It’s part of my job.”

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

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

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

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

“A little uptight, aren’t you?”

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

“That’s ice cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But that’s boring. Predictable.”

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

“What if I don’t like it?”

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

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

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

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles.

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

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

“That book isn’t very interesting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda relieved you didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jason todd x reader #jasontoddxreader #red hood x reader #redhoodxreader

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tea-and-cardigans · 7 years

Text

Love To Hate You

Hey guys this is a fill for the short fics AU list that went around a little while ago. I am still working on the prompts that came through and this fill, combines #7 requested by @yougottahave-faith and #45 by anon.

Also I got a little carried away and it is longer than I originally intended.

Edit: just realised I did secret relationship instead of fake relationship as the prompt requested. Sorry guys. 😭

#7: secret relationship au

#45: pretending to hate each other au

The two friends were sitting together on opposite sides of their usual booth. Betty was twirling her straw in her vanilla milkshake while Archie recounted to her how her dad’s health was progressing. The shooting at the diner had been a wake up call for the town of Riverdale. A reminder that things had changed for the small town.

Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

The sharp ring of the bell overhanging the door of the diner rang out signifying another arrival to the quiet spot in town.

Jughead Jones spotted Archie and raised his head in acknowledgement before going to the counter to order his usual with Pop’s who nodded and returned to the kitchen. Betty was doing her best to ignore his arrival focused solely on the droplets of condensation running down her glass.

The loud clearing of his throat demanded her attention as she looked up, her head tilted in question as she looked him and down.

His hand rested on the back of the booth behind her head. “Is this seat taken?”

She made a display of rolling her eyes and huffing loudly as she shifted over allowing him space as he took the seat in the booth next to her.

“There is space over there Forsythe.” she exaggerated his name, watching him prickle at just her using it.

“But I want to sit next to you. Elizabeth,” he whined, mimicking her as she stuck out her tongue in response.

“Can you guys just be civil for one night?” Archie suggested from his seat watching who used to be his two best friends going at it again.

“I can be civil. Can’t speak for Cooper here though.”

“It’s Betty, you know it’s Betty.” She shot back in response. Archie sighed loudly and leant back in the booth praying that Veronica would just hurry up and arrive. She was always running late leaving him alone with the two scrabbling children who used to be friends.

“Sorry Cooper has a certain ring to it, don’t you think Archie.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged his shoulders craning his head again to see whether he could see the distinctive flash of purple that would signify Veronica’s arrival. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her arrive with the comforting ding of the shop door opening. She sauntered over to the booth where they were sitting delicately sitting next to her boyfriend before she smoothed down the skirt of her purple dress. Not a hair out of place.

“You’re late.” Archie grumbled his arms folded across his chest.

Veronica ignored his mood and leant over to press a kiss on his cheek. “Good things take time Archiekins.” Archie continued to sit in a huff so Veronica turned her attention to the pair opposite her. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just Jughead being annoying.” Betty replied as she threw a look at Jughead, who had placed a hand to his chest in mock outrage.

“Me. Annoying? Betty you wound me.”

“Right business as usual then.” Veronica surmised as she turned to Archie who nodded his head in shared exasperation.

It hadn’t always been this way. Her and Archie could remember numerous nights spent at Pop’s Shoppe sipping milkshakes, sharing fries and discussing the going ons in the small town. They had been the team that had brought to light the killer of Jason Blossom. They were those meddling kids. And it had felt good. Veronica had even entertained the thought that maybe the sleuthing duo weren’t just sleuthing in their spare time. That maybe Betty had found her knight is a grey woollen beanie. But then the fighting had started.

Neither her nor Archie knew what it was about. They had asked Kevin who also was in the dark as to why their friends had fallen out. They thought that it would pass eventually as most fights with close friends do. Once the realization hits that what was worth fighting over isn’t really and everything is forgiven. Only it didn’t. Three weeks on and there were still the jibes, the name calling and the refusal to even sit next to the other if they could help it. Except on nights like tonight when Jughead had seemingly decided that it was the perfect way to get under Betty’s skin.

Archie just wanted his best friends to be friends again. Or at least be civil to each other. To be in the same room without arguments or eye rolls or snide remarks. But it was soon going to be okay because Archie he had a plan.

It wasn’t a very good one, not by Veronica’s or Kevin’s standards. But it was a plan and Archie was proud of it. He just wasn’t quite ready to share it with anyone just yet. Just in case they talk him out of it.

“Hey guys I was wondering whether you might be able to help me out tonight.” There was some trepidation in his voice as asked aware that he was beginning to put his plan into action.

“Sure Arch.” Betty replied almost immediately always keen to help her friends.

“Thanks Betty. I have been working on a new song and was wondering whether you would be okay to listen to it. I mean I need an objective opinion. No offense Veronica.”

“None taken.” Veronica responded taking a sip of his milkshake.

“And since you two have been so vocal in your opinions of my music before.” Betty looked away from him at this statement remembering that time at lunch when her and Jughead had said some not so kind things about Archie’s style of music.

“Of course Arch. Anything we can do to help.”

“Yeah sure man.” Jughead replied nonchalantly as he nodded appreciatively at the waitress who had brought out his order. “We can eat first right.”

“Typical, always thinking about your stomach.” Betty said jumping on the chance to make a comment against him. Jughead stared at her as he took a large exaggerated bite of his burger, chewing as loudly as he could. Betty hated loud eaters Archie could already see her tensing up in response.

“Yeah you can finish your burger, Jughead.”

“Good.” He replied offering Betty a taunting grin as he took another bite and Betty crossed her arms in front of her.

***

Archie had taken them back to his house in his dad’s old pickup truck. It had been some awkward driving lessons with Fred still not yet cleared by the doctors to resume driving. So Archie was his personal taxi at the moment. But thankfully he had been able to pick it up quickly under Fred’s guidance.

The four of them entered the converted garage and Archie went over to pick up his guitar, before he began to look around the garage in confusion. He began to tap his jeans pockets as the others watched him. Jughead was impatiently tapping his foot, while Veronica and Betty looked concerned and began to scan the room not even sure what they were looking for.

“Damn.” Archie said looking at Veronica.

“What?” Veronica looked at him concerned.

“I think I left something up in my room. My lucky guitar pick.” A loud scoff from Jughead’s direction had Betty scowling at him. “Veronica can you help me look upstairs.”

“I can look too.” Betty offered, but Archie held out his hand stopping her movements towards the exit as she went to follow the couple.

“It’ll be too cramped in my room with all of us looking. Maybe I did leave it somewhere down here. If you don’t mind looking too.”

“No problem.” Betty smiled brightly.

“Thanks guys. Really. It’s red, with blue stripes.” He shouted as he pushed Veronica out the door. Betty and Jughead moved to the other side of the garage before Archie poked his head outside the door which was now only slightly ajar. “Just so you know this is for your own good. You two need to talk out whatever is going on.” They both stared at him confused until they heard the door shut behind him and the distinctive click of a lock being shut on the other side of the door.

“Oh no he didn’t.” Jughead exclaimed as he ran to the door twisting the handle and pushing to find that it didn’t budge. “He locked us in.” He turned to face Betty who was now by his side.

“Guess there is no ‘lucky’ guitar pick then?”

“Guess so.” Jughead sighed as he looked around the edge of the door for some way to shift it before deciding it was a lost cause and turned to face Betty who had closed the distance between them. There was a distinctive mischievous tint in her eyes one that he had seen before. “Looks like maybe Archie is taking our fighting a little more to heart than we thought.”

“We should tell them shouldn’t we?” Betty’s eyes searched his own already knowing the answer.

“I think it might be time. Before he takes even more drastic measures than locking us in his garage.”

“But for now we are here all alone. Locked in with no means of escape.” Betty ran her fingers up the flannel shirt that she had been itching to touch all night. Betty knew the real reason Jughead was frustrated to be helping Archie with his music. They had almost a standing date at FP’s trailer. Far away from prying eyes, mainly those of Alice Cooper, the two teenagers could become lost in one another.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked having a pretty good idea of what she had in mind and he was in complete agreement.

“Well the garage is sound proof.” She said with a quirk of her eyebrow as she balled the material of his flannel in her fist and pulled him towards her, her lips locking on his.

The ‘fight’ had been her idea. The night of the Jubilee they had found themselves at the office of the Blue and Gold working on their final article together before Jughead would be transferred to the Southside. They had been through so much together and their friendship had only strengthened through the investigation of Jason’s murder.

She had thought about how much he meant to her, wondered if she now meant the same to him. But neither were brave enough to make a move until that night. While she leaned on his shoulder reading over the paragraph he had written he had looked up at her. Watching her lips purse carefully as he could already see her critiquing his work in her head. He noticed the way the light from the screen hit her face giving her an almost ethereal glow and he knew then that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t kiss her.

He cupped her cheek in his hand reaching up as she seemed stunned at his sudden action. He tilted his head around twisting so that he could capture her lips with his own. A soft kiss. Enough to relieve the pressure that had been building in his gut the last few months while also stoking the fire burning there. He pulled back briefly but she chased his lips with her own, returning the kiss in earnest. The rest was a blur to him as their lips moved against each other. His hand on the back of her neck, hers reaching under his beanie, a chair falling to the ground as he stood and pulled her to him. Everything seemed to be coming together.

But then they had found out Fred Andrews had been shot. That while they had been together tangled in the sheets of his childhood bed in FP’s trailer Archie had held his Dad who was bleeding out on the floor of Pops diner. Then Jughead had needed to move to the Southside and it just didn’t see, like the right time to share their relationship with the rest of the gang. Betty had come up with the idea of them pretending to be fighting, knowing that Veronica and Kevin would catch onto them all too easily if they didn’t provide a distraction. It wasn’t the best idea but it was only meant to be a few days at most.

It didn’t take either one long to discover that they started to enjoy their teasing and performance a little which only made their eventual rendezvous more exciting. Perhaps that was part of the reason they continued to maintain the charade well past the time it was needed.

“It is so hard to keep my hands off you.” He murmured into her neck as he pulled her down to straddle his lap as he sat on the old couch of the garage. “Especially when you are so feisty.” He pulled himself up to nip at her lips which she kept teasingly just out of reach.

“Is that so, Forsythe?” A wicked smile played on her lips and he inwardly groaned at the sound of his real name. Although if anyone had to say it he preferred it to be her.

“That I won’t miss.” His hands slipped under her sweater and the thin blouse it covered. She was always so warm. He felt the softness of her skin as his hands trailed up her back, keeping her in place as he pulled her down for another kiss. Her hips ground against his own and he struggled to keep himself in check. He wanted to lay her down bare beneath him and take whatever he needed, knowing that she would be only too willing to let him.

Her fingers were in his hair in an instant. His beanie falling somewhere behind the couch. They always found their way to his locks. Betty was well aware of the importance of his beanie and the barrier that it provided between him and the rest of the world. He couldn’t help the groan that left his lips as her fingertip traced over his scalp knowing all the right places to press and pull. His fingers meanwhile slipped under the band of her bra as he pulled her closer still. He felt her chest solid against his own as his lips moved away from her lips as she groaned in frustration at the loss of contact. He brushed his lips against the outer shell of her ear. “I want to see you come undone.” He whispered into her ear and her hips bucked into his in response to his words. She would have never had imagined the things that would come out of his mouth but was glad that she was the one that got to hear them. That his words were just for her.

His fingers moved downwards to the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Before his lips were again on her neck, not wanting to break contact from her for longer than was needed. Her hands were exploring his body as he removed her hair tie letting her blonde locks tumble over her shoulders as he pulled back to examine her. Her eyes intense, lips swollen and it was all for him. Unable to resist for much longer he pressed his lips to hers again as she returned the kiss in earnest.

Their movements soon became hurried as they continued to kiss while each divesting the other of their clothing until they were down to their underwear. Betty let out a squeal as Jughead moved her to lay on the couch before trapping her with his own body over her. His lips travelled lower as he braced himself above her, they ghosted over her neck. Her collar bone. The touch was so light but Betty felt every sensation her senses taking in every movement as lips traced the outline of the lace of her bra and she raised her hips towards his. She felt his hardness at her centre the thin material between them doing nothing to hide his arousal.

She wanted so badly for him to claim her. “Please, Juggie.”

They jumped apart as the door to the garage swung open and the cool air of the night filled the garage.

“Oh my god. My eyes. My eyes.” Kevin took in the scene in front of him before clasping his hand over his eyes. Jughead grasped the cushion from the sofa and covered his lap and his obvious bulge, while Betty’s arms flew around her torso as she grasped Jughead’s t-shirt and pulled it up to cover herself. “Are you decent?” Kevin shouted as he peeked through his fingers.

“Sort of.” Betty’s meek reply came from the couch her heart was still thumping in her chest, partly from her recent state of arousal and partly from being caught in the act. Literally by her best friend. Kevin slowly removed his hand from his face as he took in the looks of the two lovers in front of him. Betty’s hair was loose from the usual ponytail and Jughead’s trademark beanie was nowhere to be seen.

“So how long has this,” he moved his hand between the two of them. “Been going on.”

“Since the Jubilee.” Betty answered. Jughead remained silent. While his eyes scanned the room for his jeans to provide him with some more modesty. “We were going to tell everyone eventually. But then so much was happening and it just didn’t seem like the right time.” Betty explained realising that their plan sounded even weaker out loud than it did in her head.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Jughead piped up as he grabbed his jeans from the floor, while he held the cushion tight to his body.

“I got a text from Veronica to say that Archie had locked the two of you in here. She was worried that given how things were at the moment that the two of you might tear each other apart. Not tear each others clothes off.”

“We’re sorry Kevin really. I guess we just sort of got caught up in each other.”

“I can see that Betty.” Betty’s blush intensified as she looked away. “I’m going to go and Archie and Veronica while you get dressed. Then you can tell them yourselves.” Betty looked sheepishly towards Jughead who scooted closer to her on the couch. He reached down to hand her her clothes which she accepted shimmying into them as she handed him back his shirt.

“Look on the bright side Betts,” Betty stared at him for a moment before he sighed. “No need to call me Forsythe again. Ever.” She rolled her eyes as he pulled her in for another kiss not caring anymore who saw them.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #AU prompts #request filled #mywork

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enchantedbyhiddles · 7 years

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Very good read and explains why movie star and good actor are terms to describe different things. And why saying an actor is not a celebrity and not a movie star is not an insult and doesn’t say anything about talent or longevity of a career. Not even about success. Great actors don’t have to be stars and stars are very often not the best actors.

(long article behind the cut)

Like many film critics, I started out to be a mortician, but got sidetracked. Yet vestiges of that childhood vocation linger on in my lifelong fascination with autopsies, particularly postmortems involving epic film failures.

In this context, I have thought a lot about King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, a colossal bomb. There are many things wrong with the film – the story, the directing, the fact that the screenwriter forgot to include Merlin – but the biggest problem is the casting. A few months before the film was released, I started noticing posters advertising a star I didn’t immediately recognise. Somebody named Charlie Hunnam. “Do you know him?” I asked my son.

“He’s the guy from Sons of Anarchy,” he replied.

Well, precisely. He’s not Matt Damon. He’s not Brad Pitt. He’s not James Franco. He’s certainly not Denzel Washington or Jamie Foxx. He’s the guy from Sons of Anarchy, a reasonably popular cable TV show most people have never heard of, much less seen. He’s the guy most famous for almost being in 50 Shades of Grey.

Hunnam reportedly talked his way into the starring role in King Arthur, convincing Guy Ritchie that he could carry the ball. He could not carry the ball, as we now know. Ritchie should have written Lady Guinevere into the screenplay and asked if Gal Gadot was available. One of the most annoying things about King Arthur was Hunnam’s thoroughly predictable turn as a cheeky working-class lad. That worked well in Ritchie’s early movies because cheeky East End lads were in vogue at the time, and Ritchie had rising star Jason Statham on the payroll. Statham brought an affable roguishness to rollicking gangster movies, a quality he has never entirely lost; he was the glue that held the whole thing together. In King Arthur, Ritchie didn’t have anyone to hold the whole thing together. He had the guy from Sons of Anarchy. So the cheeky medieval prole schtick fell flat.

Hunnam is by no means a dud – he is quite good in the art house film The Lost City of Z – and he may yet avoid the fate of Jason Momoa, the large but ultimately ineffective tent pole around which the abysmal 2011 Conan the Barbarianwas erected. Yet the similarities are startling: an actor best known for appearing on a popular cable TV show (Game of Thrones) gets into the ring with the big boys. And promptly gets his head handed to him.

Hunnam is a tad on the generic, nondescript side, especially compared to King Arthur’s nemesis, played by the emphatically non-generic Jude Law, who upstages the putative star of the movie at every turn. Bear in mind that the basic structure of motion pictures has not changed in 100 years: a man has a problem, be it shark, alien life form, loan shark or fascist pig, and he has to solve this problem in less than two hours. If the audience is not interested in the man or the problem, the movie tanks. This is also true of films starring women.

In King Arthur, Law’s problem – Oh, will no one rid me of this cheeky prole? – is more interesting than Hunnam’s problem because Law is more interesting than Hunnam. When the two share the screen, our eyes naturally travel to Law because our eyes aren’t stupid.

Hunnam comes off as a poor man’s Tom Hardy. But here is an intriguing issue. Hardy, remarkable actor that he is, is not an instantly recognisable star like Tom Cruise or Vin Diesel or Sylvester Stallone or the Rock. He has never got top billing in the kind of career-defining film that absolutely everybody on the planet saw: Top Gun, Thelma and Louise, Forrest Gump, The Matrix, Rocky, The Hunger Games. So, is Hardy himself a movie star? Well, if the criterion for being a movie star is the ability to light up the screen as soon as you show up, then there is no question that Hardy is bona fide. But this is different from being a matinee idol or a living legend or an icon or Jennifer Lawrence or any of those other words used to describe our celluloid heroes. Hardy, who has made quite a name for himself by vanishing into assorted roles, has a Zelig-like quality. He’s here. He’s there. He’s everywhere. He can do anything, play anybody: a dimwit New York bartender, a Russian copper, a cruel, atavistic London gangster. Make that two cruel, atavistic London gangsters.

Hardy has an amazing CV. He was brilliant in The Revenant. He was brilliant in Locke, where he spends the entire 85 minutes talking on a car phone. He was brilliant in Bronson, a tour de force about Britain’s most violent jailbird. He was brilliant in Child 44, Inception and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. He was brilliant in good films, brilliant in bad films.

But does that make him a movie star? I’m not so sure. A movie star isn’t somebody film lovers rave about. They aren’t even somebody the general public raves about. They are somebody the ordinary person can pick out of a police lineup. Can you do that with Guy Pearce? Ciaran Hinds? Hugo Weaving? Outstanding actors, all. But movie stars? Hmm. In a way, it all comes down to the vaunted Thespian Brothers Conundrum. Owen Wilson? Movie star. Luke Wilson? Not a movie star. Alec Baldwin? Movie star. Anybody else named Baldwin? Not a movie star.

Let’s just leave the Quaids and the Afflecks out of this.

Here is the problem in a nutshell. Every time I talk to someone about how much I enjoy watching Hardy and how much I look forward to his next film, I have to remind people who he is. C’mon, guys, work with me. Tom Hardy. You know, the bad guy in The Revenant? Didn’t see it. OK then, the bad guy in The Dark Knight Rises? Oh yeah, him. But didn’t he have a mask on the whole time? OK, the guy who played Mad Max the last time around? Oh, yeah, him. The guy with the mask on his face half the movie. But mostly I remember Charlize Theron. And the rest of the girls.

OK, I continue, my hackles up because in my view not worshipping in the Church of Hardy is like refusing to genuflect in the Cathedral of Daniel Day-Lewis, did you see The Drop? No. Lawless? No. This Means War? No. How about the film where Hardy plays the Kray brothers so convincingly you cannot believe it is the same actor playing both Ronnie and Reg? Sorry, didn’t see it.

I don’t have to do this kind of stuff with Jude Law, Mark Wahlberg, George Clooney. I don’t have to do it with Viggo Mortensen or Colin Farrell. I don’t even have to do it with John C Reilly. I certainly don’t have to do it with Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway or Angelina Jolie. So even though Hardy is a better actor than most of them, and in certain instances a much better actor, I never have to pull out my iPhone to remind people who they are. Hardy, like Mark Strong, falls into that category of actors that are simultaneously famous yet hard to describe from memory. Fans of these guys routinely imagine they are bigger stars than they are. They are like rock critics who want Alejandro Escovedo and Son Volt to be more revered than U2. But reality is reality, and reality bites. If you put Tom Hardy on the cover of People magazine, the public would say, “Wait a minute. Where’s Johnny Depp?”

There’s a term for people like this. They are all gods, but they are gods of a lesser order. They are the Working Famous.

Charlie Hunnam should be so lucky.

#link

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

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Survey #93

“you better run, better run, outrun my gun.”

do you like your toes? no. people make fun of them because they are SOOO TINY. do you go to church? if so, do you actually pay attention? i don't really go regularly, no, but when i do go, i pay attention. when you are home alone at night and hear strange noises, are you afraid someone is going to break in? sometimes. i'm paranoid like that. do you want any tattoos? if so, where? i want lots. the only places off-limits to me is my face, my breasts (don't mistake that for sternum area), and probably my ass. are any of your friends virgins? i'm aware at least one is, but it's not my business regardless. ever held a newborn animal? kittens, yes. can you name a single song by billy joel without looking it up? i can list multiple: "uptown girl," "moving out (anthony's song)," "piano man," etc... i grew up listening to billy joel 'cuz my dad loves him. do you wish life functioned more similarly to video games, such as having a save file that you could return to after you make a mistake & therefore you could erase that from happening & start over anew? huh. not sure, honestly... do you try to avoid burping in public, or are you open about it? after all, it is a normal bodily function. i try to do it quietly. have you ever refused to read / watch / listen to something simply because a lot of people really liked it? no, that's remarkably stupid. if you have a dog, are they friendly to strangers or other dogs? teddy loves new dogs and is initially apprehensive of strangers and will bark, but then starts crying excitedly lol. cali hates strangers in general. she won't bite or anything, but she'll growl and shake a lot. it takes a while for her to warm up to strangers. bentley just follows along with the other dogs. is it hard for you to get along with people that have different opinions than you? or can you ignore all of that stuff and be friends with just about anyone? it's honestly not hard for me at all, so long their opinions aren't just blatantly harmful. be honest, did "fifty shades of grey" arouse you in any way? never watched it, never will, because i'm not interested in watching a glorified porn. do you think you’d have what it takes to shoot someone if you had to protect yourself? i know i'd have what it takes if i had no other choice. did you parents know what gender you were before you were born? i think, but i do know that i was initially thought to be a boy because my legs were always crossed in all the ultrasound pictures. i'm such a lady. :T do you have trouble reading small fonts? depends on the font. roughly how hot are the summer temperatures where you reside? 90s, sometimes 100s. ew. do you find watching animals in their natural habitat to be exciting & fascinating? YES. of all the decisions you have thus far made in your life, which was the best & which was the worst? best: going to holly hill; worst: rather not talk about. discarding the fact that they can smell & tend to get dirty a lot, do you like your feet, or feet in general? i absolutely loathe feet. they're just gross. do you have a favorite film, if so, what is it and why? "alice in wonderland," tim burton's version. i just love that movie so much because it goes to show just how endless the imagination is. what was the last piercing you got? how much did it hurt? lip. and it hurt a lot, i mean, there's a needle jabbing through an extremely sensitive area. who was the last teacher to make a lasting impression on you? coach collie<3 that man is a saint. i wish i still had contact with him. would you breastfeed your child, if you ever had/have had one? probably? breast milk has so many more important nutrients. i'll never forget this diagram i saw at the hospital while ashley was having one of her kids and it showed just how much more nutrients breast milk has versus formula milk. but i don't want kids, so i'll never make that decision. have you ever slept naked? no. i'd be way too uncomfortable. have you ever given someone oral sex? yes, and i don't like it. have you ever cuddled with someone that wasn’t a significant other? no. if you’re in a relationship, does cuddling with someone else count as cheating? yes. when typing, what do you use to represent laughter [lol, ha, hehe, *giggle*, etc.]? lol or ha ha do you know how your parents met? if not, is that something you would want to know? they met at work. do you ever roleplay? online on designated forums, yes. never in real life. have you ever seen the movie "matilda"? yes!! i love that movie!! do you have a poster of your favorite band/artist on your wall? metallica, yes. is your mall nice? NO. people being shot and fighting there aren't exactly uncommon. are you hard to handle? i'm mentally ill. obviously. have you ever had your eyebrows waxed? yes. what color was the last bathing suit you wore? black. have you ever been to cracker barrel? yes. do you like your steak rare? medium well. how much younger or older would you date someone? i wouldn't date younger than 21, and i wouldn't date older than like 29. have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend? yes. what’s your favorite book series? it'll probably all be "warriors" by erin hunter. how can a person tell if you’re mad or annoyed? i mumble, scowl, and barely talk. and if i do, i speak as short sentences as possible. do you actually use the camera on your phone? NO. the camera on my phone is AWFUL. if i wanna ever take selfies, i use my old phoen. do you think it’s ignorant for people to have unprotected sex when they’re not ready for a child? obviously?? are there any specific piercings you would never, ever get done? eyebrow, smiley, nipples, and whatever the fuck that piercing is where your private gets pierced. i'm sure i'm forgetting others. what’s your favorite non-animated disney film? probably "a cinderella story" do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? yeah, me. were either of your parents baptized? i don't know. mom, probably, since she was raised roman catholic. has anyone killed one of your pets before? people have run over our cats before. do you have a push lawnmower or a riding lawnmower? we don't mow our own lawn, so we don't have one. we have a friend who does it. what is/are your pet[s] doing at this moment? the dogs are sleeping and venus is curled up like a total cinnamon roll in her rock. describe the main problem with your last relationship? he wanted an extrovert, which i was unwilling to fake being. are you someone who has to hide the things you like around friends? yes, i am totally that person. i get embarrassed about the things i enjoy, idk why. have you ever been to a porn website? were you addicted to it afterword? no, and i never will. what is the most disgusting thing you think the opposite sex can do? be abusive. have you actually been through a devastating natural disaster before? multiple hurricanes. hurricane floyd was the worst. what fast food place, in your opinion, has the best french fries? bojangle's like yaaaas do you believe one day aliens might take over the planet earth? no, i don't. is it currently your favorite season? if not what is your favorite? no. my favorite's probably autumn, but winter almost ties it. do you like soda pop? if so, which is your favorite and least favorite? mountain dew's my fave, pepsi's probably the worst. do you have any siblings you’re embarrassed about being related to? no. i'm proud of my siblings. do you ever talk to people you met online through webcam? or is that weird? no. way too awkward. who was the last person you kissed and why did you kiss this person? tyler, and because i felt obligated to. is there a day you’d just like to forget? which one? the day i attempted suicide, the night jason broke up with me and the whole day afterward... when was the last time someone dumped you? august or september of 2015. do you like dark chocolate or white more? what about milk chocolate? out of those two, i prefer dark because i hate white, but my favorite's milk. how many times have you seen star wars? be honest. i've never watched star wars. are you good at memorizing phone numbers? NO. i don't even know my own phone number. the only one i know is my mom's. have you ever made your own website? yep. do you like men who have a sensitive side? having a sensitive side is mandatory for me if you want me to like you at all. have you ever tried to get someone into a certain band/artist? kinda indirectly. and it worked lmao be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? or are they actually not worthy of your affections? it's more like idk if i deserve /him/ would you ever go on "fear factor"? no. would you ever wear black lipstick? do you know anyone who does? i do wear black lipstick if i ever do wear lipstick. would you rather be a successful writer or artist? OHHHHHH now THAT'S a good question! i don't know! what is your favorite christmas movie? jim carrey's "how the grinch stole christmas" have you ever attended a religious or private school? does sunday school count? ever suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder? yes. i think i'm fully recovered by now though. what is the shortest relationship you have ever had with someone? less than 24 hours. do you like korn? HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL YEEEEEAAAAH when you were little, did you pick up worms? do you pick worms up now? yes and no did you like the movie "finding nemo"? it was one of my favorites as a kid. i still love it. which part of your state/province do you live in [upper, lower, middle]? the east. when was the last time you went out of state? last summer for ashley's wedding. do you like paranormal stuff? YAAAAAAAAAAAAAS what letter does your surname begin with? "d" what is one food you couldn’t live without? pizza @-@ when you’re eating pizza do you add anything like crushed peppers, parmesan cheese or hot sauce to it? i used to always have it with hot sauce... i need to do that again, it was awesome. have you ever been able to pet a normally wild animal, like a tiger or dolphin? i don't think so. where is your dad from? ohio where is your mom from? new york if you could find one long lost friend of the past, who would it be? megan do you consider how you act online to be different than you act in person? in some areas, yes. i'm more open and excitable online. have you ever written a short story/novel? yes. do you believe in the paranormal or cryptids? paranormal, yes, some cryptids. which dinosaur is your favorite? spinosaurus! would you ever play with a ouija board? no. i don't know if i believe they work, but i sure as hell don't wanna find out. which side of your family are you closest to? mom's would you want to work at the same place as your significant other? no. i personally need some space. would you rather die or eat another human being? i'd rather die. is there anything that you and your friends simply can’t agree on? yes; most of my friends are liberal, and i'm more on the conservative side. but i don't even agree with some of my conservative friends because i'm not entirely conservative myself. who was the last person to comment on your facebook status? what does the comment say? i was hesitant to do so, but i updated on how i've been doing since my "incident" in february. i fucking scared everyone that day and wanted to let everyone know how great i've been doing. but anyway, it was my friend maria, and i don't remember off the top of my head, but she said a lot about how she loves me and that i'll always have god. she is SUCH a sweetheart, miss her<3 what are three reasons you’ve smiled or laughed most recently? markiplier, rhett&link, and then probably pewdiepie. youtubers legitimately keep me going lol. think about your ex, your crush, or the person you’re currently dating. Were you attracted to that person as soon as you met them, or did the attraction develop over time? do you mean physically or mentally? physically, i actually thought he was kinda weird-looking but still attractive in some weird way, and mentally, i thought he was very interesting. which do you use the most, smiley faces, kisses or hearts? various emoticons that are usually smiley faces of some sort. is there any kind of food or drink that you used to love, but now hate? sprite. it was my favorite soda. now i just don't like it. who is your favorite disney channel person? raven symone, off the top of my head. what do you have pierced? ears, bottom lip when you take surveys, are your answers inspired by the person's before you? occasionally do you know any immigrants? yeah. do you know how to look after yourself away from home? (budget, pay pills, feed yourself, cook, clean, do laundry etc.) not really, to be totally honest... do you like dried fruit at all? what's your favorite type? i hate dried fruit. where is the biggest window in your house? the living room. is there any song out there that just amazes you every time you hear it? probably "fade to black" by metallica. the solo is so fucking amazing. do your pets spazz out a lot? the dogs, especially teddy, bark at EVERYTHING does it bother you when people write "hai" instead of "hey", or are you one of those people? no. i do it rarely. does your dad have any tattoos? no. how often does it snow where you are? does it interrupt your day-to-day life? like... once every other year or at least a little bit every year. and it almost never does. do you get really bad periods? if so, what do you do to make them less painful? not anymore. they used to be horrendous before i went on the pill. but if i do cramp anyway, i use a heating pad and take advil. do you prefer zebra stripes, tiger stripes, or leopard spots? tiger stripes. have you ever held a snake? many times. have you ever seen a volcano? no. have you ever met an alaskan? i've never actually *met* her, but i have a friend who's from alaska. she may still live there, i can't remember. did you ever play spyro? I STILL PLAY THAT SHIT BROTHER do you think mouse traps are wrong? the more inhumane ones, absolutely. who is your favorite fictional character? pyramid head what's your favorite board/card game? board game, i guess clue, but i don't really like board games. card game, "magic: the gathering." have you met the last person you kissed’s parents? no. who is the first person you see in the mornings? always mom. she sleeps on the couch just outside my room. have you ever kissed anyone you weren’t dating? no. are you friends with your best friend’s boyfriend or girlfriend? i don't have a *best* friend, but i'll answer this question for the two people i'm closest with. one doesn't have a boyfriend, the other's married. her husband's cool. there’s a serial killer in your house, what do you do? climb out a window. can you commit to one person and one person only? yes, that's the only thing i want to do in regards to a relationship. i'm strictly monogamous. how many different colleges have you gone to? two do you believe it is possible for someone to change? i take two things daily and then another if i need it. are you a submissive person? usually, very. do you believe everyone should learn another language while still a child? hmmm. maybe. how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? love 'em. great form of expression. do you care what people think? a bit too much. did you like kissing the last person you kissed or the one before that more? the one before by fucking eons is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? james hetfield, baby. yummy. are you embarrassed to buy condoms? i never have, but i'm not sure if i would be. probably not so long as i had other things with me. but i'd still most likely use self-checkout. have you ever picked wild flowers? yeah. have you ever seen a mountain in person? yes<3 do you prefer jam or butter on your biscuits? jelly have you ever explored somewhere abandoned? yes. which season do you think is the prettiest? autumn have you ever found a four-leaf clover? yes. true story, we noticed a four-leaf clover patch in our front lawn the day after my father left the family. what's your favorite type of bird? barn owls when was the last time you made out with somebody? like a year and a half ago what month of the year was your mother born? august what's your favorite type of bread? pumpernickel, yum. do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? yes. do you consider your goals easily achievable or are they pretty grand? in-between, i guess? my main goal is to be a successful photographer, and photography is a veeeeeery competitive industry. did the last person you kissed have piercings? yep, lip piercings. do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life? (s)he can be, sure. are your boobs real? yeah. is the last person you kissed mad at you? most likely would you ever be a stripper? under no circumstance. who was the last baby you held? ryder, my nephew. do you believe there's two sides to every story? i mean sure. don’t you miss chuck e. cheese? of course. i loved that place. would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? i have one on my collar bone. what do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? i don't care if you have small or big boobs, wear a bra in public, please. do wasps scare you? YEAH have you ever worn flipflops in the snow? lol yes do you like the ends of bananas? i don't eat the end. have you tried playing cranium? yeah. i loved those games. what was the one where you were at a festival? that was my favorite. did you own a playground set when you were younger? a swing and a slide. do you know how to use photoshop? only very minor things. how about sony vegas? yes. when people smoke around you, does it make you cough? yes. have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair? not entirely. mom claims that dad cheated on her, but honestly? i doubt that very much. my mom lies about my dad a LOT. who was your most romantic moment with? jason who does your most embarrassing moment involve? jason. who is your oldest friend? he's 30-ish. sam. your youngest? 17. chelsea. who have you known the longest? that's still my friend? colleen or summer, not sure. what was your favorite tv show as a kid? pokemon what do you think makes crop circles? very bored people. what are you most known for? being addicted to meerkats lol who's your favorite cousin? i don't really have one, considering i'm not very close to any? but audrey or brenna are the ones closest regardless. what would you do in the event of an apocalypse? die, obviously? what teacher inspired you the most? how did they? coach collie. he was so wise and intelligent and caring. would you rather go fully blind or fully deaf? blind. i couldn't live in silence. what are your feelings on feminism? people tend to take it WAY too far. describe your first relationship? it was puppy love. we were close friends and both thought it was more when it really wasn't. describe your last relationship? a worthless endeavor. wanted to like him when i really didn't, and he proved why i didn't. name all the pets you’ve ever had. trigger (collie), angel (lab), teddy (beagle/cocker spaniel/collie), dale (cockapoo), harley (lab/pit), delilah (don't know what she was), cali (boxer), bentley (jack russel mix), charcoal (cat), eeyore (cat), aphrodite (cat), oreo (cat), chance (cat), bobbie (cat), cheshire (cat), loki (cat), lexi (cat), at the minimum like 30 other cats, squeak (guinea pig), snickers (guinea pig), harry potter (guinea pig), another guinea pig, eurydice (gerbil), another gerbil, rhoka (rat), tezzeret (rat), rhett (rat), link (rat), mona lisa (ball python), cato (ball python), venus (ball python), shadow (chinese water dragon), and i'm sure i'm forgetting some... we've just had sooo many pets. do you put posters on your bedroom walls? my walls are covered in posters and drawings. has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer? yeah, but i'm not. do you have a lot of hair on your arms? or none at all? i guess i have a normal amount. what would you do if you were stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean? oh my god. i've no idea. probably just wait until i starve to death if there was no way to contact anyone. would you ever sell your soul? no. what was your class song when you graduated? that stupid fucking "this is how we roll" song because i went to school with a bunch of rednecks. what's the scariest living animal that you've petted? rose-haired tarantula. do you brush your tongue with your toothbrush? of course what do you order at chik-fil-a? just the chicken sandwich. soooo good, are you a good kisser? supposedly. do you like 80’s music? '80s metal, hell yeah. what kind of music are your parents into? mom, heavy metal, dad, classic rock cupcakes or muffins? hmmm. muffins, maybe. do you prefer the beatles or the rolling stones? the stones do you prefer candles or incense? incense which fictional villain is your favorite? harley quinn what nationality is your last name? scottish do you think trenchcoats are attractive on guys? hell yeah did you rollerblade as a kid? do you still rollerblade? dude i was a boss rollerblader as a kid. i haven't been in a long time though. when was the last time you drank strawberry milk? all the way back in elementary school when i tried it for the first time. it was fucking awful. never had it again. do you own a pair of fingerless gloves? i have multiple from my high school days. which of britney spears’ songs is your favorite? "toxic" is a classic which did you have taken out last, your tonsils, appendix, or your wisdom teeth? i still have all those. is your father homophobic? i actually don't know. pencil or liquid eyeliner? pencil. i can't do liquid. have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all? ha ha ha yes. i gave jason a makeover once. do you like any of the songs on "twilight," or the actual movie/saga itself? for some reason, i specifically remember my little sister watching one of the movies on christmas one year and i remember "supermassive black hole" by muse was on there. i love that song. would you rather learn more about space or more about the ocean? space. do you have a mental illness? if yes, how have you learned to cope with it? if no, do you ever suspect you may have one? i have chronic depression, severe anxiety, either bipolar ii or bpd, plus i'm pretty much recovered from ptsd. and honestly, the main reason i'm able to cope with it all is because i'm properly medicated. but also deep breathing is a life saver. also continuously trying to think logically is very important. have you ever been tempted to start life over somewhere else? yeah. mom once contemplated letting me live with my cousins in new york when i was still really bad after the break-up, but i didn't want to. do you have a favorite character from the avengers? loki and thor. do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? noooo. i don't like sprinkles. honestly, have you ever crashed a party before? no. which subject are you better at - science or history? science do you know how much you weighed at birth? how much? six or seven pounds, don't remember which. what noise does your favorite animal make? they bark, chirp, etc. they make a lot of noises. do you like turtles, fishies, or frogs more? hmmm. fish or frogs. choose: skygazing, or stargazing? ['skygazing', as in clouds, etc] stargazing, i assume. are you modest? i.e changing in front of others, etc? very, honestly. would ever go skydiving? what about bungee jumping? probably not, honestly. i'd be too scared of something going wrong. do you like breadsticks or dinner rolls better? why? breadsticks, and because i just do? do you find it odd when males wear make-up and other such things? no. do you curse in average conversations? depends on the person i'm talking to. red, white, yellow, or pink roses? i like the pink ones that also have a peach gradient. do you ever wear colored eye liner? no. are you embarrassed about your sex life or lack thereof? no. have you ever seen a shooting star? i believe so. i've also seen a star explode! are you a comic book geek? nope. do you think if someone is in a relationship, that it is acceptable to have sleepovers with other people of their preferred sex? honestly, no. that just sounds... weird. does the majority of the music you listen to have a lot of cursing or very little? what about when you were younger, did your parents approve of you listening to music with explicit or vulgar lyrics? some, but definitely not the majority. and mom didn't let my sisters and me listen to explicit stuff. for those who have anxiety, has anyone ever told you that you just need to calm down and actually face your fears? were you insulted or frustrated by this comment? oh, i've heard it more times than i've heard my own name. and i get both insulted and frustrated. it's ignorant as fuck to say that. what is your favorite song by coldplay? "clocks" is there something that you thought you would’ve outgrown/gotten over by now, but haven’t? forum role-play. what is your state’s largest city? raleigh, probably? maybe charlotte? do you listen to rise against? not actively. i love their song "re-education through labor," though. have you ever taken care of a newborn baby? no, thankfully. did you play in the sand box as a kid? true shit, i created a trend of digging tunnels in the sandbox at school lmao. have you ever taken another person’s prescribed medication? yes. pain medication. what’s important about april? my sister's and dad's birthday are in april. would you be surprised if your parents had another baby together? well yeah, my mom's past menopause and she's also divorced to my dad... would you consider adoption? i don't want kids. but if i did, i think i'd be more likely to adopt like a pre-teen. what’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? a lab/pit mix. do you ever put fruit on your cereal? ew, no. how do you usually celebrate your favorite holiday? not really with anything. :( i don't have the money for costumes. we do decorate the house, though, and carve pumpkins, but that's not usually on halloween day. do you think age matters in friendship? no. i have a close friend who's 30 and he is like my brother. are you more likely to eat when you’re bored or depressed? depressed. do all of your exes share the same eye color? yes. have you ever been on a ferris wheel? yeah! are you an organ donor? yes. what would you name your pet snake if you had one? i do have a pet snake, and her name is venus. do you like peanuts? no. i hate nuts. when was the last time you absolutely could not hold back your tears and broke down in a place you didn’t want to? i'm not sure. how many tim burton movies have you seen? what do you think of his movies/animation style? oh my, i've seen a lot. and i adore his style; he's my favorite director. have you ever met someone who was truly insane? at mental hospitals, yes. does anyone in your family have a serious mental illness? my half-sister is schizophrenic. do you think you could handle having an autistic or mentally disabled child? i don't think i could handle a kid to begin with. ever been homeless? no, thankfully. well, we were evicted once and i had no "permanent" house at the time, but thank god colleen let me stay with her. if you were given the chance to go scuba diving, would you? YES! have you ever seen a live seahorse? in aquariums, yeah. i love seahorses. (: what color did you first ever dye your hair? i got purple highlights. is it rare for you to feel embarrassed? not at all. i am like constantly embarrassed about everything. is there a website you visit regularly because it's funny/amusing? facebook. i go on there more for the memes than keeping up with friends lmao what’s your favorite kind of cap’n crunch? the one that's all berries. damn, now i want some. do you get upset when a dog jumps on you? not "upset," but i don't enjoy it. are your bras all simple/plain or do you like having funky/colored bras? if you're a guy, do you like how girls look in bras? i don't like plain bras. mine have to have at least some kind of design and preferably texture. what’s the scariest thing that’s happened to you? something i'm pretty convinced was paranormal. i was home alone, trying to go to sleep, and my dog teddy was seriously on edge. then he randomly jerked his head up from where he was lying beside me and started barking his head off, staring at the foot of the bed. i'd been feeling weird all night and was fucking horrified; i tried to pull teddy's head back down because him staring with his fur raised was really scaring me, but he refused to lie his head back down. i was fucking shaking. he finally stopped long enough for me to call my mom almost crying. she got our neighbor to come sleep at the house with me (my family was away at a dance competition). and mind you, it was like, 3 am, so i was fucking terrified to the point where i was fine with waking my poor neighbor up about it. she was very, very sweet about it, though. has an ambulance ever came to your house? maybe? i'm not sure, we may have needed to call when ashley had one of her episodes... ever owned a turtle? yeah, briefly. do you like paramore? they're okay. do you think mice are cute? YES! is there a particular fruit that you dislike? which? i don't like cantaloupe or pears. what's your favorite birth stone? rubies! do you like pomegranates? YAAAAAS as a pet, would you rather have a gecko or a turtle? gecko! did you ever own a gameboy color? if so, what color was yours? yes. red. if you were going to go to the movies today, what would you want to see? is "baywatch" out yet? it looks funny. if you had the power to control any one of the elements, which would it be? does darkness count? if not, fire. at what age do you consider people to be old? 70 do you ever wear chokers? i did in high school. don't know if mine still fit me, though. haven't had a reason to wear one. do bees scare you? not bumblebees or honeybees, but like wasps and hornets, fuck yeah. do you prefer margaritas or martinis? i've only tried margaritas, which i love. what's your favorite song by the killers? "mr. brightside" which owl city song is your favorite? "hot air balloon," probably. what birds do you commonly see in your town/city/province? crows, sparrows, robins, blue jays, etc... have you ever had a tonsil stone? no.

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