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#thanks anon this was a good idea
jeeaark · 3 months
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If Greygold was a companion, what would be the best way to initiate a romance with them? Would they go for the “L” word early or an Act or two later?
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The "L" word was lube, right? Right? Else showering Durge/Tav with kisses Gomez-Addams-Style is the alternative.
Maybe the Nat 20 romance isn't the best way for Tav/Durge, but it sure is for Greygold. You just know Greygold scared that Dream Guardian away the first time and has been low-key obsessed with that armor since
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nartothelar · 1 year
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he forgot to eat his chicken nuggies
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too-deviant · 17 days
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jackie and wilson.
previous | next masterlist.
pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader
summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile
word count: 6.2k
content: very juicy chapter. is all im gonnna say.
notes: i cant stay mad at my otps i fear
PART IV — better yet, she wouldn’t care 
“If I have to hear one more handjob joke, I’m gonna lose it. So please tell me you have good news.” 
Lee Fletcher’s dark blue eyes flitted up to yours, his lashes tickling just under his eyebrow when he did. His hands were fiddling with the bandage that wrapped around your hand, but they slowed when you spoke, “Bare with me, newbie.”
You sighed deeply, fighting the urge to fall back onto the cot that you were sitting on — you’d had the stupid bandage wrapped around your hand and wrist for what felt like eternity, but was really only five days. You should be thankful, really, since the last time you’d broken your wrist you’d been walking around with a thick blue cast on for a month, but you couldn’t help but be a little peeved. Capture the flag was today, and you hadn’t trained nearly as much as the others had due to your injury — when you probably should’ve been training twice as much, only because you were new and unfamiliar with the game. 
It was their fault for hyping it up; if they had just shut up about it, you wouldn’t have been as excited about taking part, broken wrist or not. But alas, demigods were barbarians — barbarians who thirsted to beat each other up in a controlled battle. Barbarians who didn’t have any regard for the new camper when they were climbing all over each other to see the freshly posted team setup, and trampled all over their perfectly good wrist. 
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been standing right in front of the notice board.” Luke had been saying all week. 
“Maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to accompany you there, then.” You replied every time. 
Lee narrowed his gaze, flipping your hand around carefully in his, kneading at curtain parts of your skin while checking you for reactions. When you showcased nothing but annoyance at your own shit luck, he leaned back with a cheeky smile, “Well, it’s looking good. I don’t think you need this anymore.” 
He lifted up the knot of bandage he’d removed from your hand and threw it with perfect precision into the trash can on the other side of the room, before turning and grinning at you. You couldn’t help but grin back, “You’re the best.” 
“I’m told.” He shrugged, feigning a humble demeanour. You stood, and he did so with you, looking at you pointedly, “But you should still take it easy today. It’s your first game, and you’ve been here for a week. Nobody is gonna judge you for stepping back today.” 
You scoffed, rolling your newly healed wrist around with a small smile, “I’m not stepping back for shit, Fletcher. I’m beating the hell out of Chris Rodriguez.”
“He’s on your team.” 
“I don’t care.” You rebutted. Lee rolled his eyes, but ultimately let you off with a wave. “See you later!” 
The past five days had been fairly tame. When the team setup was posted on Sunday afternoon, everyone went immediately into prep mode for the game. You knew they took it seriously, but you didn’t realise how seriously they did until you found yourself being pulled out of your sleeping bag at five in the morning so you could get a headstart on training with Luke. Although you didn’t see the relevance — after you’d broken your wrist, the boy hadn’t even let you look at a spear, so you woke up at the asscrack of dawn to…sit around and watch him train. 
Thankfully, Hermes had paired up with Ares for once, and Clarisse wasn’t letting you off easily. Whenever she could, she was dragging you to the arena and teaching you how to fight one-handed. So you were more than ready, skipping down the infirmary steps with an easy smile. 
“I think I see you here more than I see you anywhere else.” 
You paused, looking up and spotting Evan, leaning gently on the porch railing. You rounded the steps and stopped in front of him, “Hey. I’ve only been here twice.”
“In…” He checked his imaginary watch, “One week. That’s gotta be a record.”
You narrowed your eyes jokingly, “Okay. I’m still learning, leave me alone.” 
“We’ll see how much you’ve learnt later today.” He quipped, running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, “Good luck.” 
“Thanks.” You slid out, sarcasm evident in your tone. He laughed, and you smiled, rolling your eyes. 
“Come on, clumsy. Let’s get to training.” He began to walk off, and you followed, presumably to where the Hermes team were gathering for last minute preparations. 
For this game, they’d paired up with Ares and Athena, Apollo taking lead for the blue team with Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Red team also had Demeter, and the boys of cabin twelve were on the blue team. It seemed like a pretty good split; or at least you thought it was, judging by the reactions of everyone when they read the pamphlet. You might have been reading it wrong, though. After all, you were crying out in pain and cradling a shattered wrist when it happened. 
Athena was always a good cabin to pair up with, was what Evie had told you when she was taking your measurements for armour. You presumed so, goddess of war and all. But you were a little wary about the Cabin Ten girls — Aphrodite was also a warrior goddess, after all. 
Evan led you around the back of the pegasi stables and through a mudded path. The only reason you hadn’t taken off running in fear that he was leading you to your imminent death was because the wood nymphs were out and about, milling around like bodyguards. They eyed you up at first, but a few of them recognised you from your impromptu baseball session with Luke last week and told them to back off. 
“Here she is, the woman of the hour!” Clarisse exclaimed when she saw you break through the trees. A few people glanced back and smiled at you politely, a sentiment you returned as Evan led you to the front of the crowd where she stood. 
Luke was beside her, and only nodded at you. You nodded back, a glimmer in your eyes that made his hands twitch. 
“Okay, now that our whole team is in attendance, we can begin.” The Ares girl said, conviction prominent in her voice. She was made to lead, that much was obvious. “You all know the deal. I won’t repeat it, not with the blue team so close by, but…” She sent a meaningful look around the whole crew, “You know where to go. We’ve been practising this, and in a couple of hours it’ll be time to bring home yet another win.”
“It’s pretty much all in the cards for us.” Luke cropped himself into the speech, “Cabin Nine have their special machinery but we’ve got wit, power and numbers. We’ll be fine.” 
“Speaking of cabin nine.” Clarisse hopped down from the wooden crate she was standing on, “I grabbed this from them just before the teams went up. Had to make sure they didn’t sabotage it.”
She pulled a long spear out from behind some other boxes, and let it shimmer in the light. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t keep your eyes away from it. Despite it being made from celestial bronze, the forger had clearly done something to make it shine a mesmerising silver. You could see your reflection in it as it glistened under the sun. It was double ended and if you squinted, you could see tiny spikes coiling around the first ten or so inches of each end. The shaft was smooth and engraved with something you could only make out when she walked over and handed it to you. 
“Wait.” You took it out of instinct, weighing it in both hands but giving a shocked look to Clarisse, “This is mine?” 
“You’re damn right.” She smirked, “Jake was having a field day making that thing, couldn’t stop talking about it. Especially when he added these,” She poked one of the spikes that coiled around the shaft and rubbed the tips of her fingers together with a wince, “They’re lethal. You’ll be unbeatable out there with this thing.” 
“Cool.” You gave it an experimental swing, and everyone in your vicinity took a long step back. You shrugged, smiling anyway, “Whoops.” 
You felt very powerful with your new weapon, and now that you had it in your hands, you could marvel at the engravings. They were images, battles fought — a lot of them recognisable. There was Perseus killing Phineus and Polydectes with Medusa’s head, Heracles and the Nemean Lion. There was even an engraving of Tantalus stealing the ambrosia and nectar from Olympus, for some reason. You’d have to ask Jake about that later. 
“We have two hours until we need to gather at the pavilion, so we won’t bore you with details.” A young girl who you’d seen around camp before stood up and addressed the crowd. She was very little, but she exuded authority even at her young age. “But if I see you lazing around, I’ll put my dagger through your foot.”
There was a chorus of nods and murmured agreement, so the little girl stepped back and nodded at Luke, who told them all to go get ready. The crowd dispersed, but you stayed firmly put as the boy made his way over to you, the little girl following behind him. 
“Sunny.” He tried not to smile, but you saw his lips twitch. He gestured to the girl beside him, “This is my little sister Annabeth. Newly appointed Counselor of Athena.”
You raised a brow, impressed, before looking down at the girl with a smile, “Hey, Annabeth.” You introduced yourself, trying not to show her how kind of scared you were for her to not like you. 
Luckily she nodded, “Hi. You better be good with that spear.”
“I’d like to think I am.” You joked. She didn’t laugh, simply telling Luke she was going to brainstorm and left you both alone in the clearing you’d been gathered in. You raised your brows at him, “I think she gets her stoic indifference from you.” 
He cracked a smile then, grabbing your spear from you and weighing it in his own hands, “Yeah. She’s a firecracker.” He looked at you firmly, “Think you’ll be good for this game? It’s not too late to back out.”
You snatched the weapon right back from him, rubbing his finger prints from the shaft with your sleeve and sending him a half-glare, “You just want an excuse to use this instead of me. I’m fine, JoJo.”
He raised a single brow, “Fine. But if you end up back in the infirmary, I’m not gonna kiss your wounds better.”
You smirked, backing away and pointing your free finger at him daringly, “You wouldn’t be able to hold back.”
He laughed, hand on heart, “Right.” 
You were quick to retreat to the Arena where you knew Clarisse was waiting for you. A good chance to break in the new armoury and swing a spear around that wasn’t made of styrofoam or rotten wood. You caught yourself a good sweat in an hour and a half, and Clarisse was covered in bloody dots from those spikes. Even if you were injured, they still didn’t stand a chance against those. It was a comforting thought. 
You would’ve practised the whole time had it not started raining — something that confused you greatly since the camp had a controlled climate. Clarisse just rolled her eyes, though, claiming that Chiron was upping the dramatics for the game. You were unsure that the centaur could just…make it rain, but you went along with it. You’d only been a demigod for a week after all. 
Not wanting to be completely soaked by the time the game started, you retreated back to the Hermes cabin, shortening your spear down with a click and tucking it into your belt loop before you sat down. You were still on the floor, still next to the six year-old who almost always rolled on top of you in the night — you had now perfected your rollover technique to get him off you without waking him up. 
You were re-lacing your combat boots when two shadows loomed over either side of you. Without so much as a glance away from your foot, you said plainly, “Stolls. What do you want?”
A twin pair of scoffs sounded and you just rolled your eyes. The one on the left spoke first, and you thought it might have been Travis, “Bold to assume we want anything.” 
“I mean, we do.” Connor added from your right, and the indisputable sound of a hard slap came right after. “Ow! Asshole.”
“Cut to it.” You moved onto your other shoe now that the left one was wound tight. You were always pretty speedy at tying laces, a fairly random skill but a skill nonetheless. 
“Well…” Connor started. 
“Luke put us on second offence.” Travis continued. 
“But we sorta hate doing second offence.” 
“Yeah, it’s way too much work.”
Connor leaned over your shoulder so his stupid grin was visible in your peripheral vision, “And we heard that you are on side offence. Which has a much lower maiming risk.”
“So you wanna swap spots?” You deducted, looking up from your feet and giving them a blank glance. They nodded, and you sighed, “Ok, first of all, there’s two of you and one of me. You’ll have to find someone else to swap with too.”
“Already done.” Travis nodded, “Sabine loves second offence.”
“Second of all,” You sent them firm looks, “Luke isn’t going to let you change the layout right before the game. Neither is Clarisse and neither is Annabeth.”
“Which is why we aren’t telling them.” Connor said like it was obvious, holding out his hands like he’d presented you with the best idea ever conjured, “Luke and Clarisse are on first offence and Annabeth is on last defence, right by the flag. No one will know.”
“Plus,” Travis sang, wiggling his eyebrows, “This is a perfect opportunity to prove to everyone how badass you are.”
“Yeah, Luke’s had you on a leash since you hurt your wrist.” Connor raised a teasing brow, “Why not show him what you’re made of?” 
You looked between them, and the silence that stretched seemed to serve as an answer because they were smirking at you and pushing themselves up and out of the door before you could utter a word. 
The rain hadn’t settled — Chiron and his dramatics, although it appeared Mr D wasn’t too much of a fan. God or not, he still got wet with the rest of them. You stood between Luke and Clarisse, the former shielding both your heads with his black jacket — Annabeth ended up squeezing between the two of you when she couldn’t keep up with her I’m too good to hide from the rain facade. You took it as a win, she was warming up to you! 
“Welcome to our first capture the flag of the summer!” Chiron bellowed, pausing for the cheers that resounded. “The usual rules are enforced. Magic weapons are permitted, the flag must be prominently presented with no more than two guards no less than ten yards from the flag! No killing or maiming, and no gagging or bounding of prisoners. Let the games begin!” 
There was a loud echo of cheers and battle cries as the first conch sounded — they only had twenty minutes to get into position and then they would be permitted to cross the creek into enemy territory. Annabeth was quick to gather up the flag guards and send them off to their agreed location with nothing but a sharp eye before she was pulling together the defensive lines and sending them off too.
“Hey.” Just before you could walk off, Luke grabbed your attention, levelling his eyes with yours as best as he could from under his helmet. He adjusted yours and patted your shoulders, “You got this, Sunny.”
You nodded, “Damn right I do.” 
It was hard to navigate the woods in the rain, which was still pouring almost torrentially over them. The forest floor had grown slippery and wet with the new downpour, but the campers traipsed through it roughly, boots squelching as they moved. You followed the side defence through mud and grass, dodging branches and puddles until you couldn’t hear the chatter of Luke and Clarisse from behind you. Then you stopped, and just ahead of you, Sabine did the same. 
It wasn’t long before Connor and Travis were pushing through the trees and greeting the pair of you with wide grins. Sabine rolled her eyes, “Shove off, punks.”
Then she was storming in the direction they came from, and you had no choice but to follow. It was hard to keep up with her long strides, but whenever you lost her in the fog you just followed the sound of her annoyed mutters. 
“Stupid kids. Can’t be trusted on last offence let alone second. It’s not fair. I punch one kid for cheating and Luke sends me to side defence. Side! Stupid punk has been out of it for too long, needs a reality check.”
You didn’t bother responding — whether you were going to agree or come to Luke’s defence, you had no idea. You just followed her to the edge where the second offence was lined up just past the edge of the shore. Evie and Evan gave you the same confused look. 
“Those Stoll fuckers wanted an easy out.” Sabine spat, pushing a stray curl back under her helmet and heaving her giant club over her shoulder. 
The twins didn’t question or fight the decision, simply shrugging and going back to where they were tracing their own tic tac toe game into the wet sand. You stood idly, hands fiddling with your belt buckle before the second conch sounded. Almost immediately did the first and side offences cross the creek and disappear into the woods, while you pulled your spear from the ground and followed the twins and Sabine across the water moments after they were gone. 
Then it was a waiting game. 
“Fuck Apollo, Marry Athena and Kill Hermes.” 
Evie scoffed, shaking her head, “No. No way. Athena would be way controlling as a wife, you gotta bag Apollo.” 
Sabine hummed, “No. I think Athena and I would be unstoppable together.”
You looked up from your shoes and between the three that stood before you. It had been two hours and the most action you had was seeing one of your own teammates get flung right back over the creek by some cabin nine contraption that you were not too keen on meeting. Your spear rested across the back of your shoulders, your arms swung around the shaft at either side as you contemplated your own answer. 
“No, see —“ You huffed, “I couldn’t marry Athena, but only because she conjures babies with her brain. I could never win an argument, I know that for sure.”
“But we all agree on killing Hermes, right?” Evan butted in with a laugh that was immediately shared by the rest of them. He settled down and squinted for a moment, “Ok. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Iris, Nemesis and…Hypnos.” 
There was immediate discourse, everyone speaking up at once with their own opinions. Sabine thought Hypnos would be a terrible lay — He’d fall asleep halfway through! — but Iris would be overbearing as a wife. Evie said Nemesis would be the best wife, she’d never let anyone hurt you, and you were just about to add on that Iris could let you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations whenever you were bored when a loud crack echoed through the trees. 
Then it was quiet. You all shared silent looks, baring your weapons and facing the enemy side. 
Another crack, a snap of a twig. Then a crash, like something being dropped onto a pile of leaves. 
A scream, and a manic son of Aphrodite breaking through the trees and aiming a large Kopis at Evan, who was quick to defend with his dual wielding swords. His teammates followed, and the rest of you jumped into action — you were only slightly panicked when you realised your opponent was a Hephaestus kid who was nearly double your height. 
You’d seen him around sometimes, he was only a year or so younger than you. Same age as Clarisse, and definitely the same level of skill in battle. What made him even scarier was that he fought with nunchucks…fucking nunchucks! And he was good with them, too. 
But you had been taught well. You were quick to defend your body and use both ends of your spear to deflect each nunchuck from making contact. At one point, he clipped your arm pretty hard, and that was when you realised they were ribbed along the edges making for a harder hit. You bounced back though, swinging every which way and not letting him touch you again. 
Briefly, you could hear your peers’ own battles. There weren’t any shouts of pain, or cries for help, so you put all your focus on the boy before you. He had a height advantage, and swung his weapon down on you fairly often, which left your torso open when you held your spear over your head. But your reflexes were like lightning, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t land that second hit. 
Fuelled by his own frustration, he lunged forward and tried to wrap the chain of his chucks around the shaft of your spear. He attempted to no avail a couple of times, but then he clicked a button on one of the shafts and released a crackle of energy along it. You were shocked momentarily by the reveal of his electric nunchucks that you faltered in your defence and he managed to wrangle your weapon in his own on the third try. You pulled back hard, trying to regain control and prevent his disarm, but he just pressed that damn button again and this time the volts ran through his chain and up the entire length of your spear. 
The crack that resounded was huge. Too huge to have come from those tiny nunchucks.  
Where you were expecting a sudden and painful shock through your hand and arms you instead felt a massive give. You stumbled back, shocked, but regained your footing before you could fall onto the wet ground. Your spear was in your hands, and the nunchucks were still wrapped tightly around the middle. You looked up from them to see their owner crumbled in a heap on the ground, nursing his painfully red hands while the rainfall soaked his clothes even more. 
You’d completely forgotten you weren’t alone until one of his teammates dropped their shield and ran to his aid. You looked up, expecting to meet the dumbstruck eyes of Evie and Evan, only to see their gazes fixed elsewhere. You turned your head. 
There in the grass was a giant streak of black, stretching along the shore for nearly five metres. It took a second for you to realise that it was embers — the ground had been burnt completely from where you stood to where it ended. And standing just before it was Luke and Clarisse — the blue team's flag in hand. They weren’t moving, they were staring at the burn in the floor, at you.
Your chin wobbled a little until the echo of the other team reached your ears. You looked at the pair urgently, “Move!”
And they did. Even when the blue team kids you’d been fighting  before tried to stop them, they were held back and Luke and Clarisse led your team to an easy victory. 
They cheered, and the conch sounded. Chiron emerged through the wood and smiled at them in congratulations — the whole spark debacle was nearly forgotten, campers too busy either cheering or groaning to notice the burn streak on the floor. Chiron did, though, and soon though the short lived celebration quieted down as he asked about it. 
Eyes turned to you. You shrugged, “I don’t…I don’t know what happened, it just —“
But then there were gasps. All around you. And suddenly Chiron wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the space above your head. And then so was everyone else. 
When you looked up, squinting past the rain, and your eyes fixated on that glowing lighting bolt that floated above your head, the world went quiet. A week of hearing everything about the glory of being claimed — how at ease you would be, how reassured you would end up. None of it was true. Because for some reason, the symbol that hung above your head sent nothing but trepidation running through you. 
You almost missed Chiron's next words,  
“Zeus. Law Maker. Striker of Lightning. King of Olympus. All hail.” He shouted your name, but it didn’t feel right in your ears, “Daughter of the Sky God.”
When you couldn’t stand the sight of it — when it started to make you feel sick, when the picturesque summer camp you were finally finding yourself in started to feel tight and uncomfortable, you looked down. Everyone was kneeling, eyes on the ground. It was comforting that they weren’t staring at you anymore, but when you searched the crowd for those baby brows that held you down, they were fixated firmly on the mud. 
After your claiming, Chiron dismissed everyone sharply. They left, all talk about the capture the flag win long left behind and replaced by canards about you and your family. Your lineage. You were very prepared to stand frozen on the other side of the creek for the rest of the day but the centaur ushered you into his office in the big house just as the rain stopped. 
The next hour was a muffled blur. You felt as if you had just been plunged underwater and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears — you vaguely registered Chiron and Mr. D asking you a load of questions about your childhood and whether there were any signs of your parentage along the way. You couldn’t answer that. 
They Iris-Messaged your mother — who was in her office and jumped up startled when the call came through. You might have been in a hazy funk, but you could tell the surprise on her face when Chiron informed her of your claiming was genuine. She’d had no idea. That, out of all things, angered you the most. 
“This new information will have caused quite a stir in Olympus.” Was one of the last things he said, “But you should be fine, since you’re seventeen.”
“Why does me being seventeen mean anything?” 
Zeus’ Cabin was subpar to say the least. Alright if you’re only going in there to worship the guy, not so alright if you’re planning on living there. There weren’t any beds, but there were alcoves lining the walls that you tucked your sleeping bag into so you didn’t have to look at the giant statue of Zeus that stood at the end of the room. For good measure, you chucked a spare blanket over its head — he could smite you for it, you didn’t really care anymore. 
You zoned back into reality when a knock sounded on your door, and you realised it was nightfall. Dinner time. You stood from your perch on one of the many benches that sat in the room — you thought they’d have better use in the pavilion, where Hermes kids were practically falling off the benches there were so little of them — and headed over to the huge double doors, heaving one open and breathing deep at the workout it took just to see who was at the door. 
It was Evie, and for some reason that made a pit of disappointment form in your gut. You sent her a weak smile nonetheless, “Hi.”
She smiled back, full of pity, “Hey. Just thought I’d come check on you, we haven’t seen you in hours.”
“I didn’t like them staring at me.” You said plainly, stepping out into the open air. The rain had stopped now, the sky clear, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 
“Yeah, I get that.” Was her heartfelt reply. You felt bad for being so plain with her, but there was really only one person you wanted to see, “But, um, it’s dinner right about now. Wanna…come with?”
You didn’t really wanna, but you were starving and almost certain that nobody would be bringing you any food, so you shrugged, “Sure.” 
The large door shut on its own when you stepped away from it, and Evie jumped at the sound. You folded your arms and walked alongside her in silence until you were forced to part at the pavilion. She tried to say something — maybe a goodbye, a good luck. Maybe a we can’t be friends anymore because you’re forbidden. You didn’t stick around to check, walking over to the empty Zeus table where you unfortunately belonged. 
You filled your plate, hungry from the workout of capture the flag and exhaustion from the day, but your appetite was ruined when you saw Luke walk in and avoid your eyes completely in favour of sitting at his usual spot at the Hermes table. You hadn’t seen him all day, he hadn’t seen you, and yet here he was; ignoring your existence like he used to. It sort of hurt. 
So you dropped your fork, leaned your elbows on the untouched wood and stared at nothing. Only hours earlier were you at the top of your game, happy and ready to use your skills in capture the flag, show your friends what you could do. Now? You were completely alone, completely miserable, and completely ready to go back to Vermont. 
You wanted nothing more than to climb into your bed and cry. 
People started to stand. Heading in the direction of the campfire that you were definitely going to skip. Some Hermes kids stood, Luke included, and started a slow stroll down there too, past your table and down the hill. Chris was talking animatedly to his friends on either side of him, but Luke didn’t look very happy with whatever it was he was saying. Before you could build up the courage to call out for him, beg him to look you in the eyes and still stay your friend, he was shoving Chris roughly, the boy falling into your table with a grunt. 
“What the hell, man?” He sneered, brushing himself off. Luke just glared. He scoffed, “You’ve changed, bro. And not for the better.”
Then he was walking off in a huff, and his friends were following him. Luke met your eyes for half a second before storming off in the opposite direction — and with the influence of the tug on your heart, you followed. 
He was halfway to the Hermes cabin when you caught him, and you were thrown back to the time he got into that…thing with Dean from Ares and you chased him all the way up the hill. This time, it was down, and you were a lot less out of breath when you reached out and tugged on his elbow. 
He turned to you, “What?”
You paused, hand falling to your side. You swallowed, shrugged, “I…uh…”
Luke tightened his jaw, eyes flicking above your head like if he looked at you any longer his facade would break. He took in a deep breath and met your gaze once more, “Go to the campfire.”
“What —?”
“Go to the campfire.” He was backing away, “Entertain your fans, give out autographs. Conjure some more lighting. I don’t know. Do something, but don’t do it here.” 
You weren’t having that. Your gaze hardened, “Hey. You’re not allowed to say that to me after you ignored me all day.”
“I —“ He went for a rebuttal, but came up short, licking his lips in frustration. “You disappeared.”
“I was in the Big House, being interrogated.” You explained, annoyance clear in your tone, “I would’ve liked it if my best friend was waiting for me when I got out but unfortunately he decided he hated me like everyone else and I had to cry alone in my cabin.” 
He paused then, taking slow steps back towards you and meeting your saddened gaze. His brows furrowed, “I’m your best friend?” 
You cracked a tiny smile, “Of course you are, idiot.” 
His nod was barely there, but you saw it. You also saw his smile, small like yours and gone in a flash. “I don’t hate you.” He said, “I don’t care that Zeus is your dad. It’s just…”
“He forgot about me.” 
“What?”
You shrugged, folding your arms. There, standing in the middle of the cabins and staring at Luke Castellan, you admitted out loud what you’d been avoiding since you left the Big House, “Zeus. He forgot about me. That's why I never got attacked by monsters, because my deadbeat father was so busy turning his kid into a tree that he forgot he had another one.” 
Even under the tears brimming in your lids and through the lump on your throat, you saw Luke flinch. A minute movement, but you caught it like you caught all of his other details. The freckle on his eyebrow, the scar on his forehead that other people missed because they were too busy staring at his big one. The flinch when you brought up the tree. Thalia Grace, is what Chiron had called her. 
“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” He said in a low murmur. “Thalia was a friend of mine and Annabeth’s. Brought back some rough memories.” 
“Oh.” You breathed, “Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.” 
You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso before you could think about it. Big bad Luke definitely didn’t like hugs, but there you were; hugging him and staining his camp shirt with your salty tears. You couldn’t help it — you were so full of emotions that a single hug that he hadn't even reciprocated was bringing you to tears. 
Then he hugged you back, and you started bawling. 
Bawling like a baby into his chest while he stood there and held you. Crying about your dad who forgot about you, your sister who died while you lived a happy life, your nonexistent purpose in life because you were over sixteen now and there was nothing for you. Maybe being a forbidden kid was enough, but not really. You weren’t forbidden enough for them, apparently. 
“Sorry for shoving Chris.” He spoke into your hair. You pulled your head back enough to meet his eyes, “He was saying shit about you and Thalia and it pissed me off. I know that you want me to be better, happier or whatever, and I am trying but…”
“I don’t care.”
His lips shut with a smack, “What?”
You let out a sad chuckle, “Be miserable. I don’t care, I like you for who you are. Plus, I get it. Y’know? This isn’t the happiest life.” 
Luke looked at you with an expression so genuine and heavy that it sort of scared you, but you let it burn you. You’d let him burn you forever more. Then he let out a breath, tinged with relief, and relaxed his forehead onto your own. You stayed like that, heads pressed together and arms wrapped around one another, until footsteps bled into your ears. 
You pulled away from each other and spotted Annabeth, who was making her way over very quickly, trudging through the grass that was still wet from earlier. 
“Anna Banana.” Luke squinted, his new way of smiling, “What are ya’ doing over here?”
The girl stopped between the two of you and ignored her brother in favour of looking at you, “So, you’re Zeus’ kid.”
“Yup.”
“I knew your sister. She was my sister, too, for a bit.” She said, and you thought it sounded sad, but the girl hid her emotions well. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You shrugged — it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Zeus’. You sent her a kind smile. 
She returned it, glancing at Luke then, “Don’t call me that.” 
He chucked, patting her on the head and yanking on one of her braids. She huffed and smacked his hand away, but smiled nonetheless. Then she looked back at you, “You were good with that spear today. Maybe Athena could pair up with Zeus for the next game.”
“Maybe they could.” You nodded. 
She nodded back, before announcing her departure and heading off. You looked at Luke with a proud grin, “She likes me.” 
He smiled fully, amused, “She does.”
“You like me.”
A little sheepish, “I do.”
“So who cares if daddy dearest doesn’t?” You settled on, tilting your head, “We got each other.” 
Luke nodded, and you admired the way he looked. He was handsome, that you knew, but he seemed particularly beautiful under the moon, alone with you.
🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @ma1dita @woodlandwrites @tsireyasgf @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @evilwrongdoer @blueberryjune @dancing-inasnowglobe @acidaciruela @solshaven @rosieandthethorns @sofiacblair @obxstiles @lukecastellanirl (comment to be removed/added!) (also sorry if some of these didn’t work idk what’s going on)
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tornado1992 · 2 months
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My dude, all your fanfics and ideas for baby Tails break my heart. I need more! How do you think Sonic would take care of a sick Tails? Do you think Tails would be so delirious with fever that he would not calm down until Sonic holds him? Who knows....
Glad to know I’m damaging your heart! That’s my whole goal, thank you for reading!
We don’t have nearly enough Tails’ sick fics out there, but BABY TAILS sick fics? We have a shortage, and that can’t be.
Now, as for how would sonic react to a sick baby tails, in case of a babyfied Tails there’s a variety of angst and comfort levels all around, but, if it were the unbreakable bond early days, both little Sonic and baby Tails? He’d be so stressed! These kids are all alone, don’t have a home, and clearly are not medicine professionals, so just try and imagine poor little Sonic panicking because suddenly his tiny fox kit started coughing and wheezing and he doesn’t know what to do, and poor baby Tails longing for Sonic to just hold him and tell him everything would be right?
Just imagine…
Sonic knew Tails was small
Tails was already so small, way too little for a four year old, his arms and legs way too short, his fluffy fur hiding how thin he was, and his tails big enough to blanket him almost completely, he was way too adorable, and so, so small.
But looking at him, right now, with the sweat staining his messy fur, his ears flatted down to his skull, and his little nose sneezing restlessly while he tried to curl into the littlest, tiniest ball of fur ever with little whines and whimpers leaving his throat almost every time he breathed, all while the speedster could just sit beside him cause nothing he did seemed to soothe him, Sonic felt like he was the small one.
Worried? an understatement. Scared? An inexactitude. Sonic was right down panicking.
The blue blur could handle 10 ton killing machines, ruthless natural disasters and evil crazy scientists threatening to end the world every day. But hiding from the rain in a cold, dark cave, sitting on the rocky ground beside a sweaty sick fox cub who pretty much looked like he war right up dying? Seeing and hearing how every cough and sneezed hurt him from the inside? He wasn’t sure he could handle this.
Tails was breathing heavily, almost like crying, but no tears left his eyes, not that he could see them anyway, he hadn’t opened his eyes since a few hours ago, sniffing and getting coughing fits every few minutes while his chest made a rumbling sound, but it wasn’t the kind of rumbly buzzing it made when the kit was all snoozed close to Sonic, when he wasn’t sick, when he wasn’t in pain. He wants that sound back.
The warmth that surrounded the little fox was nothing like the comfortable coziness Sonic felt whenever he snuggled close to him, when his little paws would reach for Sonic’s arm and try to hug him, when the little kid’s head below his chin felt like he was holding the most softest, warmest, freshly baked bread bun in the world. No, this wasn’t like that. This time, the heat that evolved him felt like hell was inside the kit’s skin trying to melt both himself and Sonic’s heart.
Sonic knew that being sick felt like freezing in your own cold sweat, your body fighting against itself trying to stay alive, even if it meant setting itself ablaze while feeling so he didn’t wanted to rip the thin blanket way from him, but the kid was not just warm, he was burning.
There was nothing his speed could do against the baby fox’s inmune system, nothing that his quills could break with a spindash, no way he could just take the kid and try outrun the threat.
He gave him all the water they had, tried to put some wet rags on his body and spent his very last dime on some cough syrup that didn’t seemed to be of much help. Tails was hurting, and Sonic couldn’t do anything about it.
He doesn’t know how didn’t he noticed him getting ill, sure, he was kinda quiet, but it have been raining for some days now and neither of them enjoyed stormy nights, both of them stayed silent when they were sad or upset, so he thought it was probably just that.
It wasn’t.
He did everything he knew was supposed to be done when a kid was sick, even when said kid’s little paws weakly waved him away when he tried to comfort him, even when he pouted and whined as he was forced to drink some water so he wouldn’t dehydrate, and even if he refused to open his mouth every time he needed to take his medicine; poor kid must be so scared and confused, not fully awake curling in himself not to show his face to Sonic, he must think someone was trying to hurt him. He must think he was alone again.
Sonic hadn’t left his side in hours, he wasn’t planning to, and yet, he was starting to feel lonely himself.
Tails thought he wasn’t a bad kid anymore.
He’d been told all his life than only bad kids would get sick like him. All the adults from his hometown yelling at him for even daring to get close to the village when he was coughing. All the other kids running from him when he sneezed. And his own body betraying him whenever he tried to stand while his head felt like exploding.
Apparently being “cursed” with twin tails wasn’t enough. He was bad enough of a kid to be sick almost everyday of his life before he met Sonic.
Tails knew only bad kids got sick. Because bad kids who stole from peoples garbage would get the most horrible tummy aches. Because bad kids who stayed in the rain when there was a storm would always fall to the ground when their chest made those nasty grumbly sounds that hurt every time they breathed. Because only bad kids would vomit nothing but liquid when they took water that wasn’t theirs.
He thought that now that he was with Sonic and didn’t need to do any of that, then maybe he was a good kid, maybe the universe forgave him, maybe the cosmos knew he always tried to help Sonic save the world, maybe reality wasn’t as cruel as to make him sick now that he was a good kid!, so he ignored the lingering pain in his chest whenever he talked for too long, he didn’t mention anything about how stuffed his nose felt and how nauseous the thought of food made him feel, neither about how as the hours passed he felt like his body was trying to cook itself alive, he was a good kid now, so it must’ve been a defense mechanism against the cold weather, nothing else.
But he did got sick, so he was still a bad kid.
It was fine, he had been through this before, he just needed to wait a little while, maybe less than two weeks, he was in better shape now than last time this happened, when he was alone and got sick he knew if was hungry enough he would just fall asleep for a few days and wake up with a horrible headache and a runny nose, but that just meant he would feel better in three or four more days, he could take it. But he wasn’t alone now, and even if his heart wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his big brother’s arms until he got better…. He didn’t want Sonic to go through that, Sonic wasn’t a bad kid, he was the bestest friend in the world, the bestest greatest brother in the world, he didn’t deserved to get sick.
So even if he couldn’t open his eyes, even if all his body hurt like he was made of broken glass, he waved him away, surely Sonic didn’t know he could get sick from being around him, so he needed to protect Sonic from his sickness, he needed to protect Sonic from him. Even if he tried to pet his forehead or scratch behind his ears, and even if Tails wanted nothing more than to be hugged by him, he needed to protect Sonic, so he curled in himself, rolled on his side when his brother got too close, and even scratched his arms when he tried to pet him. Tears finally started rolling down his tired eyes when he heard his brother’s sudden hiss to the touch of his claws, no, anything but that, he didn’t wanted to hurt him, he didn’t wanted him to be ill, he didn’t wanted his brother to suffer because of some cursed freak, and now he was the one crying, he didn’t deserved to cry, he didn’t got time to cry, he could already feel the rest of his energy going away with the falling of his tears, his body already felt so heavy, sleep taking him down more and more with every heart beat, and as much as it hurt, he needed to get his brother away from him or he would try to comfort him again, he couldn’t risk Sonic getting sick just for petting him.
Bad kids didn’t deserved to be petted.
That was it. Trembling and whining were bad enough besides being sick, but tears? The blood coming out from the little claw scratches on his forearm didn’t sting nearly as much as the tears falling down the kid’s eyes did.
No, he couldn’t take it anymore, it didn’t matter if he scratched his face, growled at him or bit his hands, he couldn’t give him a solid home, five star medical care or even a proper bed, but he could give him this.
He was no doctor, and he knows that no amount of hugs could cure the little fox, but again, no doctor could really know how much better it made Tails feel whenever he was hugged, but Sonic knew, cause no matter when or how, or the limited time’s he’s done it, but he knows that for this tiny baby fox, hugs made him sleep, hugs made him purr, and hugs made him smile. When all the wet rags, medicine and blankets don’t do their job, hugs were the best comfort in the world.
And so the speedster finally placed himself on the ground, not just beside the fox, but completely surrounding him, holding him close to his chest while the kit mumbled silent whines and tried to move his paws against him, hoping the lullaby of his heartbeat could be enough to soothe the little cub, longing for the calm sound of his brother’s almost silent snoring, demanding to anything that’s out there to let him keep his brother alive, to let him end his pain and make him smile soon.
He didn’t really believed in anything up there, if they were real, they weren’t doing their job if the traumatized kid in his arms had anything to say. But Sonic believed in himself, and if the universe wanted to take his kid from him, they’d have to rip him from his dead cold hands, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
He held Tails even closer, whispering soft nothings to him, the kit’s wet nose pressing to his chest while he pet his ears and ran his fingers through his bangs, the fox’s whimpers and loud breathing made his heart ache, but he was still breathing, all cold, sweaty and scared, but breathing.
He wasn’t crying anymore, no longer fighting his big brother’s embrace, no longer trying to get away or to hide from him, and suddenly melting into his touch, relaxed enough that Sonic could feel the heartbeat on his chest against his own.
Then the most beautiful sound ever blessed his ears.
Tails didn’t know why Sonic didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t know why he seemed even more eager to get close to him after he hurt him to the point of bleeding. He didn’t know why he got to the ground and held him closer to his chest when the tears appeared, when he was the one who hurt him. And he didn’t know why he didn’t try to stop him. He needed to protect him, he was barely awake but he could try a last effort. He could push him away. Letting him know he was dangerous to be around one last time. He had to.
His brother’s heartbeat was always fast, almost sounding like a buzzing instead, what would be annoying to most people, but to Tails? Being held right now, his head cradled to the crook of his hero’s neck, listening from up close to the rapid beat, it was the most soothing sound he’s ever heard. As much as he needed to push Sonic away, and as much as his mind told him to protect him, his heart knew that being there, in his big brother’s arms, he didn’t wanted to move away from there, ever. It felt like the safest place in the world. It was the safest place in the world.
Just being there close enough to feel the hedgehog’s breathing over him, getting his forehead rubbed and his ears scratched while the speedster’s voice engraved itself in his heart, It made his headache almost bearable, his tears slowly stopped, his breathing no longer felt like chocking, and the warmth that he felt before was no longer burning, but rocking him to slumber.
Only good kids deserved to be held with love, he knows that, he was never held like this before. Even when every single person on his home island refused to even touch him if it wasn’t to hurt him, and even if he doesn’t remember ever being held like this by his parents, Sonic was here, holding him. His brother was holding him.
The pain and sorrow that embraced him finally being replaced by a comforting rumbling coming from his own chest.
Maybe he was a good kid after all.
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amphibianaday · 1 year
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day 1245
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ccycloneblogging · 1 month
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i have been thinking that in the aftermath one of the things player finds all of the charathers that were presumely dead were trapped inside an huge cage the prototype placed them if they fail to do his order and depending on what waits us in the next chapter(s) the fianl battle and the rescue would be something that came straight from "who framed roger rabbit"
Okay, you have a fun point there!
It'd be fun to see them all appear at the end (especially if I could somehow swing the excuse to allow all the critters to team up with the Player, Poppy, and Kissy against the Prototype). I've literally spent my trips to and from work thinking over how to introduce other characters that I want to survive. This is a fun one!
...Also?
You said that, and I couldn't help myself
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whaliiwatching · 9 months
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How do you think hurt/comfort noirpunk would go?
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they deal with blegh days by distracting each other. crafts that require engagement like block print carving or making jewelry or other diy stuff, aimless conversation with the goal of making each other laugh.
bad days mean closing the blinds. less engaging activities like watching movies, sewing, lots of reassuring touch and just.. being there for each other. hobie strikes me as someone who prefers to talk—fuck suppressing your emotions until they rot—so he can air it all out, and it won’t fester inside him. he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s hurting, and loves staying in contact to help ground him. if he goes to make tea, noir will follow him and hold his hand as he goes about it. imo hobie is also more prone to crying; crying feels damn good, and noir’s sweater never minds the tears.
i think noir prefers to work through hurt internally, sitting with the emotion bc yknow, every emotion is part of living and just bc despair/anger/grief hurt doesn’t mean they’re Evil. he gets quiet, sometimes likes to be alone, but more often prefers to curl up with hobie, listening to him murmur reassurances (breathe, one step at a time, i will always be here, i love you), and stay like that until the world feels manageable again. he doesn’t cry often, but his voice does break, and he hides his face. usually in hobie’s hair or the crook of his neck. it helps remind him he’s not alone anymore.
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alexbkrieger13 · 7 months
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crystallizsch · 29 days
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Yuusha = Jamil's Charging Station
(help 😭)
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fiepige · 2 months
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What about Hobie bouncing off and pulling up the bus and Peter smashing the car into Tombstone? Not much of a relation besides vehicular involvement, but their movements are just so cool in those little scenes
Vehicular involvement is all I need as an excuse to make a noirpunk GIFset lol
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And agreed, their movements look so cool in these scenes! (I slowed both GIFs down a bit to get a better look at them)
Please feed me more noirpunk GIF ideas I love making these 💜
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skitskatdacat63 · 10 months
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2011 Japan Post-Qualifying
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xenodogartz · 1 year
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"Benrey do you have anything you want to say to women" "i'm sorry women"
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hella1975 · 7 months
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hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x
#seriously another shout out to my mutuals#id particularly like to say thank you to boom who's always right there for me no matter what's happening or how insane im being#and also everyone in our little discord that wound up having to make a whole new channel for venting#bc i was there so often like 'today's weird ask isssss.... telling me about my cupsize!! rip them to shreds!!!'#hannah and theo especially being there and pushing me to finally turn off anon. war is truly over#and of course rori bc the shamelessness u show when hating on my anon asks has been genuinely really cathartic#sometimes u really do just need a rottweiler mutual to tell random people online to kill themselves 😭#okay weird oscar acceptance speechcore gratitude over. i do just rlly love my mutuals#like i went three years not telling anyone about the worse side of internet popularity for fear of looking spoiled and ungrateful#so for the first time to open up about it and be met with outrage on my behalf and people saying in fact it's MORE fucked up#than i initially realised bc ive grown desensitised to it is. yeah cathartic i guess#they are singlehandedly reassuring me of the good this cursed app still holds#so everyone thank them and send them flowers NOW#okay im done i think. see you guys soon. i truly do want to come back asap bc like i said i NEVER EVEN WANTED TO FUCKING LEAVE#SOME ASSHOLES JUST HAD TO PUT GRENADES ON WHAT I ASSUMED WERE VERY UNIVERSAL AND OBVIOUS BOUNDARIES#if you're reading this like 'ohhh fuck i defo sent something invasive lately. i thought it was a joke/we were friends'#then 1) we arent friends if you're on anon. it immediately creates a power imbalance where you know me and any necessary context#but i have no idea who you are or how much you know about me. that's already a fucked dynamic#and 2) I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD. LIKE GENUINELY I HOPE YOU FEEL AWFUL AND HAVE A GOOD LONG LOOK AT YOURSELF#okay i think that's all. ta-ra lads??? how tf do u end something like this#ive queued this to reblog a couple more times throughout the day
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blee-bleep · 9 months
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Hi, I hope you are having a good day. I don't know if you take drawing requests, but would it be possible for you to draw Akko as Eunie from Xenoblade Chronicles 3? Eunie is also voiced by VA Megumi Han.
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when i saw the head wings i knew i had to draw her
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braisedhoney · 2 years
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you asked for a prompt so uhhhh how about AHWM Darkiplier + the Captain because Dark has the stone and now the Captain knows what the stone is and how dangerous it is?
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Part 1 (You are here!) - Part 2
He’s mocking them. Must be. 
Right?
Brushes:
- Jingsketch sketch round (for all sketching, writing, painting, and rendering.)
- Random default watercolor brush for the backgrounds!
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boyfridged · 1 year
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You may have already mentioned this in some of your other metas, and I just missed it, so please ignore this if it's redundant.
Do you think Bruce is projecting onto Jason by pushing him as a Robin? Obviously, Jason wanted to be Robin and was excited about it, and Bruce let Jason do other things, but (if I'm not mistaken) before Tim came into play, solidifying the whole Batman needs a Robin/support to keep him upright, Bruce and Dick becoming Batman and Robin, in the beginning, was also sort of a coping mechanism.
I think there are a few examples of Bruce enabling this kind of mindset. Like in Gotham Knights #43–44 (sorry), every time Barbara brings up Jason's inner turmoil, Bruce refocuses on his ability as a Robin; similarly, when Jason finds out about Two-Face and his dad, he is hurt, and Bruce acknowledges that but then does the same thing, zeroing in on reassuring Jason that he made a mistake but is still a good Robin.
Like, Jason got it from Bruce, but he unintentionally encouraged that kind of thinking.
oh, i definitely think that bruce is projecting on jason and that it profoundly affected jay. and, while every single one of your observations is apt, i would add that what truly made it so tragic is that he projected his own worst traits on jason while being blind to the fact that jay already shared his best qualities.
tldr: bruce projects himself on jason in terms of grief (saying that jason needs vigilantism to work his grief through) and sees his own worst traits in jason (anger) but doesn't see his own best traits in jay (compassion, love, and sensitivity). ironically, jason does end up developing all of the (projected) worst characteristics of bruce (obsessiveness, and relentlessness in pursuit of the respective perceived idea of justice). this happens even though they were barely present in his early storylines, and only ever manifested when jason was scared or lost. later, they truly came to be because of his trauma relating to vigilantism.
and the long, long version, coming with panels and quotes: under the cut.
first i want to say that the following analysis focuses very specifically on bruce's mistakes, but i don't view the overall of jay's upbringing by bruce solely in these terms. from text it is also clear that bruce deeply loves and cares about jay, and that jay enjoys being robin. now that this is clear, let's get to particularities, and start with jay's origin story.
i truly never stop thinking about the significance of bruce meeting jay in the crime alley, the place of his parents' death. there's a lot to be said about it, but here the focus is, of course, on the fact that he sees a little boy, very much similar to himself, angry and hurt, in the same scenery that brought him so much grief. and jay in some ways does appear to be a mirror of bruce's own agonies, as well as a mirror of his own inclination for seeking justice; and somehow, bruce fixates on the first one, while almost completely dismissing the latter.
bruce looks at him and assumes that the remedy to jason's pain and anger is being robin; and he doesn't stop to think about it. (it has to be noted that there's also classism at play, classism that is mostly a result of writers' own beliefs – collins did state in a couple of interviews that that the motivation behind jason's background was to make his introduction into vigilantism seem less offensive, as jason has already been exposed to crime...)
i think, in this context, it's interesting to look at the two-face storyline even closer, and from the start too. in the beginning, bruce talks of jason's 'street' roots and assumes jay would go "down the same criminal road that took his father [willis] to an early death." he also talks of jason making a lot of progress. later, in batman #411, after jason learns that willis has been killed by two-face, bruce comments that jay "has never been like this...listless...almost pouting--"
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this all, along with jay's cheerful and diligent behaviour from the previous issue builds an interesting picture for us: because we essentially learn that jay has been overall an unproblematic child. bruce, of course, attributes this "progress" to the training. however, for anyone else, the logical conclusion would be that jay's quick adjustment was simply a matter of finding himself in a safe and stable environment and receiving continuous support and attention from a parental figure. i find it rather questionable that jason's personality softened down because he had something to punch in the cave–– the more intuitive explanation is of course that he was angry and quick to fight when they first met because he couldn't afford anything else and because he was scared. but months later, in a loving home, he can allow himself to drop his guard; and his cocky attitude disappears until much later.
so the rather unsettling picture that we derive is that bruce is training jay to become a vigilante in order to "channel" his (nonvisible at this point) anger into something useful and just. and he clearly links this to his own trauma in batman #416 (that’s already starlin btw), in his conversation with dick, explaining why he took jay in: “he’s so full of anger and frustration… he reminds me of myself, just after my parents were killed.” bruce also mentions that soon after their first meeting, jason helped him and "handled himself well" in the fight, but he doesn't mention that jay has ran away from a crime "school" and intended to stop injustice on his own only because he was ignored.
the theme of bruce comparing jay to himself appears again in detective comics #574 (barr), where it is approached with a much more... critical look, thanks to leslie's presence and her skepticism of bruce's actions. after jason has suffered nearly fatal injuries at the hand of the mad hatter, bruce reminisces on his own trauma and motives. he tells leslie: "i didn't choose jason for my work. he was chosen by it...as i was chosen." leslie replies: "stop that! (...) you do this for yourself... you're still that little boy (...)" then, the conversation steers to the familiar ground and the topic of anger. in bruce's words, again: “i wanted to give jason an outlet for his rage…wanted him to expunge his anger and get on with his life…” and finishes "and instead, i may have killed him."
the recognition that bruce's projection on jason and involving him with his work might have fatal consequences is, as always, fast forgotten once jay wakes up and proclaims that he wants to continue his work as robin.
but to circle back, i think there's something else worth our attention, something deeply ironic, that is showcased in that issue: that bruce has no evidence for jay's "rage." when leslie talks of bruce's past, she recalls his tendencies to get into brutal fights at perceived injustice as early as in school; when bruce talks of jason, two pictures that are juxtaposed, are that of jason fighting as robin and jason... smiling, playing baseball.
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so, in the early days of jason's training and work in the field, we see bruce talking of jason's anger a lot; but we barely see it.
that being said, jay is angry sometimes– and i think your observation about how bruce deals with it is incredibly interesting and accurate.
we first see jay truly and devastatingly angry in the two-face storyline. bruce focuses on jay's reaction as robin, which is, in fact, aggressive. but something that he barely addresses is that jason's first reaction is sleeping all day, and not beating anyone to a pulp; in fact, this vengeful instinct seems to arise only when he is put right in front of two-face. and his third instinct, once the rage (very quickly) dies down after the altercation with two-face, is crying, because bruce hid the truth about willis' death from him. jay, while crying, asks bruce: "you have taken me out into combat-- but you spare me this?" in response, bruce lectures jason about how grief inspires revenge, which is, again, deeply ironic, given that jay seeking out revenge seemed to be prompted and enabled solely by the role of robin. moreover, his question suggests that at this point he saw grief ("you spare me this") and fighting as two different things.
the final is, as you said, bruce focusing on making it into a lesson on vigilantism, or, in his own words, "tempering revenge into justice." personally, i think in this way bruce directs jason to bring his grief into the field as a powering force, something that he didn't necessarily have an own incentive to do. the flash of compartmentalisation between his ordinary life and being a sidekick that jay has shown by questioning bruce's decision is lost. emotions are now a robin thing, and they have an (informal) protocol, a moral code. and when jay is confronted with an emotionally exhausting case next – the garzonas case, i believe that the focus on "tempering revenge into justice" is exactly the problem– we don't see jay crying, we see him frantic about finding the solution. this, right there, is bruce's obsessiveness, that in my opinion, was developed in jay specifically as a result of how his engagement with vigilantism combines with his deep sensitivity.
and, needless to say, his sensitivity is all the same as that of bruce – they both can't stand looking at other people hurting, they both wear their hearts on their sleeve, caring way too much – the thing is, bruce never quite acknowledges how they are similar in this matter. instead, he focuses on his sparse bursts of anger, wanting to bring jason closure in his grief the only way he knows it – in a fight for a better world. so, as you said, he focuses on jason's ability as robin.
which just doesn't work for jason. at all. we know it from how his robin run comes to an end: in the first issue of a death in the family (batman #426) alfred informs: “i’ve come upon him, several times, looking at that battered old photograph of his mother and father, crying.”  to that, bruce contends: “in other words, i may have started jason as robin before he had a chance to come to grips with his parents deaths.” he also tells jay that the field is not a place for someone who is hurting; a message that is the opposite of what he's been saying for years now, and something that i imagine was difficult for bruce to conceptualise, because then he would have to question his own unhealthy tendencies. it's a bit late to come to this realisation; bruce's self-projection that caused him to worry so much about jay's anger has already turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy that will fully manifest itself in utrh, when jason does the only thing he was taught to do with grief: try to channel it into justice.
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