The Picture Meme

[stocksock]

 
The Picture Meme

A picture is worth a thousand words. They've inspired stories, conversations, and so much more. 

1. Post your character name and preferences. 
2. Reply to others comments with images.
3. Reply to any images sent to you with a starter based off of what you're given.
4. Have fun!

Comments

[goodsoldier]

"Obviously." To all of the above, because those shorts were going to haunt him and Dick for the rest of their lives and he might as well embrace that.

He couldn't manage a transformation like Mia's, not least because he was six feet and who knew how many pounds of casually homicidal muscle, but he could at least lose the mask and ease up on the murder eyes. Which he was perfectly capable of doing, actually. By the time he entered (just over five minutes after her, because the last thing she needed while trying to be unremarkable was him looming over her shoulder), he barely attracted any attention either. There were some advantages in not having a costume uniform.

[theotherspeedy]

She made her rounds at the tables, basically... returning to old habits. No one seemed interested, thank God. When Jason came in, she sidled up to him, getting way, way closer than she'd ever really want to be. "You can make fun of me all you want for this later. Table near the back. Unless there's two psychotic masks visiting from Gotham people are stealing from, they're looking to sell your goods." A sigh. "Just act like you're looking to buy mine til they get up and no one will take notice of us."

By her instructional tone, she was used to talking Connor through these sorts of operations. Though there was certainly a note of embarrassment of going through this dance with someone she didn't trust.

[goodsoldier]

He was slower to cooperate than he might have been, which was less a function of being a jerk than of real reluctance to get into the act. Apparently, from his point of view, kidnapping and ranting at someone was more acceptable than some mild undercover flirting. Jason leaned on the bar and smiled — only Mia would have enough basis for comparison to see the grimace beneath it.

"No balltaps later for something you told me to do," he said, the low, warm tone a complete mismatch to the words.

[theotherspeedy]

In the terms of their little verbal sparring match, she'd been primed for the blow. And a little surprised when it didn't come.

Even more surprised by the reluctance under his smile. "Yeah, no. I... it's a thing Connor and I have to... nevermind..."

She was pretty clearly surprised by his reactions and actions. "I was pretty sure you'd have a cheap shot lined up for this."

She kept an eye on their target through the bar mirror.

[goodsoldier]

Partially under his breath, but still audible: "Yeah, well, I'm not Connor and you're not Batgirl..."

Which was not to say he and Babs had done this kind of undercover, back in the day. (Only a handful of years, really, but they spanned a lifetime, for him.) And he would have been a lot more obnoxious if they had, a point that took him a second or two to connect to what Mia said about cheap shots. He kept the smile fixed on his face.

"About what, exactly?" He had an idea what she meant. He just didn't feel like acknowledging it. "It's the job."

He didn't say: it's who we are. He'd given her that talk, and coming from rough backgrounds didn't mean they had some kind of connection or that he knew what her life had been like beyond what a file said.

[theotherspeedy]

"'Whore' is a really easy insult. Figured I had it coming after all the 'psycho' jabs." But then, maybe she was kind of entitled to a few of those after, you know. Kidnapping. Were there rules for this?

Another look at the mirror. Their target still wasn't showing any signs of moving, neither the seller nor his hopeful buyer. Goddamn, could they hurry it up a little? There were vigilantes stuck in awkward conversations over here.

[goodsoldier]

He was ominously silent for longer than his pretending-to-be-hitting-on-her cover merited, a fact that did nothing to dispel the legitimacy of being called a psycho. It was only him trying to figure out the best way to word his response. Anyway, it wasn't like he could look at the mirror; they'd be way obvious if they both did it.

"You know, I wasn't bullshitting you before about us being alike," he said finally, so neutral it carried its own intensity. "The places we grew up. The people around us."

But that was all. They were stuck here in an awkward conversation, that didn't mean he was going to make it a heart-to-heart.

"Look, can we just start a fucking fight and get them out of here."

snorted at icon keywords

[theotherspeedy]

She listened. She was silent for a long moment. It looked like she actually believed him. Still. Awkward.

"God yes. With each other to make it look natural, or just throw caution to the wind and go for whatever looks shady and probably doing something illegal?" Which was basically... everyone.

batfamily man pain is THE WORST

[goodsoldier]

"Shove me into that other guy, I can take it from there. Then you'll be free to stay on them."

'That other guy' meant, judging from the tiny jerk of his head, the man a few stools down arguing with friends or soon-to-be former friends. Jason raised an eyebrow to warn her, then fixed his expression to something more convincing, i.e. drunker. He leaned forward, reaching for Mia's waist.

"Baby. C'mon. I can be real nice."

they perfected it

[theotherspeedy]

"Not if you can't pay extra for that, perv," she responded, and shoved him, right in the direction he'd indicated, smack into the guy in the argument.

Bar brawl in 3... 2... 1.

She started moving towards the back, as if she were trying to hurry out of the way of the action, when she was really keeping herself on their marks. They looked ready to rabbit, too. Probably not much for fighting either. They were armed though, she took note. Or, at least one of them was.

and then they infect others with it

[goodsoldier]

As the clamor of angry voices rose behind her, it took exactly two more seconds for glass to start breaking, followed closely by the sound of something going crunch. A bar stool? The bar itself? Somebody's arm? With Jason, who could ever tell?

Bar brawls weren't a matter of artistry, though Jason put some effort into pretending to take hits. Mostly, however, he pushed the fight — which was gaining more participants every minute — toward the table Mia had indicated. Flush them so she could collar them. Jason would extricate himself from the fight to join her as soon as they weren't around to notice one of the fighters suddenly getting vigilante-level good.