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#So it's based on a theoretically canon character
madslasher88 · 3 days
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Not spoilers, because I know nothing. Simply speculation. Simply putting it out there.
So, the big question for the state of Thedas at the end of Veilguard is likely to be whether or not the Veil remains, correct? Given that, and given how many people still talk about how ME3 ended and the problem that popped up that resulted in Andromeda going to another galaxy...
I don't think they'll do that again. I don't think people will get to choose whether or not the Veil remains. I think it'll be a set, scripted event, that'll happen the same for everyone. Why? Practical reasons. One of the big reasons they chose to move Mass Effect Andromeda to another galaxy was because the choice at the end of ME3 meant that, theoretically, there should be 3 wildly different world states for a sequel to be happening in. And not a simple, this character survived or didn't, here's a stand in character instead, but on a massive scale. It would have been stupidly expensive to basically create 3 different games, depending on the starting point.
It's the same with Veilguard. Theoretically, with the way it's been put to us up until now, whether or not the Veil still exists will have big consequences, and could potentially change a lot of things about the state of the world. So, I think it'll happen the same in game (possibly with small variations based on player actions) for everyone. Because otherwise, their choices for a sequel are 1. Spend the resources to make 2 fundamentally different worlds (EA would never) 2. Make it so that, oh, nevermind, it really wasn't a big deal, and things are mostly the same (Doubt it, it's a cop out, and one fans wouldn't like) or 3. Pick one as Canon and only make a sequel based on that state (Again, doubt it, because fans would be pissed).
So, my guess for the game is that we're not actually going to be able to choose whether or not the Veil remains. Because that choice would put Bioware in a bad spot for the sequel, and I think they know that.
Hopefully, people won't be too mad, if that does end up being the case. Because from a storytelling/ game making perspective, I think it would be the best choice, even if I think there is likely to be a chunk of fans that don't like it.
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cathalbravecog · 6 months
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the twins being twins
(and cassie debut..? her design may change but I've been stuck on her for a year and I finally have a result im fairly happy with ^^)
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arolesbianism · 2 months
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I've been passively watching an isat playthrough while twiddling my thumbs in my current oni save as I wait for my new power systems to be done and hey guys. I think one of these bitches is aromantic. Why did no one tell me one of these bitches is aromantic I would have played the game myself if I knew that
#rat rambles#ok tbf I still theoretically Could but I dont think Id survive playing through the like first 6 hours of the stuff Ive already seen#anyways current review is that it's rly well written so far and I like how well the worldbuilding is implemented naturally in the dialogue#having odile be a presumably anthropologist or smth along those lines does wonders for this ofc but even with that its amazing how#natural the party feels when discussing their different cultures#and ofc I am staring at mirabelle hard. this game is clearly not shying away in the slightest from queer topics so. blinks oh so sweetly#I am sooooo fucking desperate for canonically aro characters who are actually written to be aro if she talks abt it at all I Will cry#honestly real con of this is that its making me conceptualize an eternal gales au which is not what I should be thinking abt this early#also its a problem because Im pretty dead set on the idea that aris would be sif and that means tali is off limits#which is unfortunate because I think itd be funny to make her mirabelle on the sole basis of her maybe being aro#otherwise the assignments are pretty easy even if some of them would be looser fits than others based on my current knowledge#mase would be odile fydd would be bonnie and sier would be iz#for mira Im thinking if I wanted to get funky with it then maybe bloom? it doesnt effect sier too much since I can just make it so his mom#was the one frozen in time or smth#now bloom is rly only in the running because of the leftover human kids shes somehow the best choice despite being 9 years old lol#dodie is off the table since I try to practice restraint when using dodie in aus#and the snake triplets are well. the snake triplets.#they have about a billion things that makes them hard to fit into any au#now I could use a stalien instead but thats a Really hard choice for me to make given the rest of the selected cast#plus none of them actually fit that much better than bloom would tbh?#like to be clear basically the only thing keeping bloom from being an easy pick is that shes 9#like I could just do it anyways but I should probably wait a lil bit to make sure mira doesnt pull out some crazy shit to change my mind#based on what I do know the only one thats rly a bit of a stretch is sier but Im ok with that I can just slap a different character arc in#rly most fucked up thing abt this cast is that aris our sif is second tallest#which feels deeply wrong to me especially once you consider the hat#her siouette is going to be all fucked up and different from sif's shes going to be so big compared to them#shes not even That tall shes like 5'8 thats just tall compared to most of her companions#in canon shes the third tallest of the friend group and second tallest not counting dodie#so its mase then her and in this hypothetical au the rest of the garden gnome squad#sier is 5'1 fydd is 5 flat and bloom is 4'9 if Im remembering correctly
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sundrop-writes · 9 months
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Emergency Contact
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Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader
You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.
Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.
Summary:
After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.
Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.
Word Count: 10,400
DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.
Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.
...
Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).
sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.
mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.
A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.
This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.
This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.
...
If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd. 
The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits? 
But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off. 
If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for. 
It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least. 
Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you. 
… 
You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him. 
He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive. 
When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up. 
“Who are your friends?” He asked. 
As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice. 
It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes. 
“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed. 
“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question. 
“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience. 
“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand. 
“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang. 
He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear. 
“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement. 
“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.” 
You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time. 
“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh. 
“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason. 
This left you confused. But you didn’t question it. 
“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained. 
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self. 
“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face. 
“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded. 
Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked. 
“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of. 
Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again. 
“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?” 
It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish. 
Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about. 
“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit. 
It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you. 
“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact. 
“No way.” You scoffed. 
“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.
“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together. 
“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity. 
“I am.” Dick said firmly. 
“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips. 
“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said. 
The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit. 
You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words. 
He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer. 
“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-” 
“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.” 
Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air. 
“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was. 
Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours. 
“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so. 
It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by. 
His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it. 
When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment. 
“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked. 
You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him. 
“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink. 
You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle. 
When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you. 
Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him. 
… 
When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging. 
Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick. 
You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts. 
Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock. 
Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting. 
When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 
You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him. 
You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun. 
When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages. 
You had no clue that you’d end up living together. 
When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall. 
You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional. 
You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean. 
… 
“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.” 
“Shut up.” 
The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended. 
You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments. 
Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him. 
You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words. 
“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes. 
He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies. 
“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.” 
He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words. 
“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.” 
He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face. 
“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.” 
He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail. 
“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?” 
He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear. 
“How many times did you cum thinking about me?” 
“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him. 
“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed. 
Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both. 
In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that. 
… 
You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind. 
It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day. 
The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex. 
Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up. 
You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up. 
… 
It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you. 
When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile. 
You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl. 
“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle. 
“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.” 
You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box. 
“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs. 
You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead. 
“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.” 
You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee. 
“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.” 
Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans. 
“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’” 
It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others. 
“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’” 
But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock. 
But you would never admit that he was right. 
“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won. 
But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that. 
Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you. 
You just glared, and he smirked once more. 
When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done. 
“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed. 
“I know.” You grinned at him. 
He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you. 
… 
Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice. 
Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him. 
But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will. 
When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong. 
You went through the stages of grief like a rocket. 
Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.
Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval? 
Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you? 
Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn. 
And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it. 
So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed. 
You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done. 
And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.  
… 
Hectic. 
That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower. 
Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up. 
Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal. 
But you weren’t truly worried about any of that. 
Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision. 
Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason. 
The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him. 
The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner. 
After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection. 
You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened. 
So you took the leap. 
You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door. 
A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you. 
His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him. 
“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight. 
“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.” 
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. 
He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life. 
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.” 
It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects. 
He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired. 
You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you. 
“You’re hurt.” He said quietly. 
He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself. 
“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own. 
It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair. 
Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt. 
“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you. 
Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now. 
Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over. 
“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.” 
That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury. 
“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence. 
Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you. 
“You need this treated.” He added on. 
No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly. 
“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.” 
“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.” 
The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound. 
“Jason-” 
You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you. 
But of course, he cut you off. 
“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore. 
He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites. 
You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion. 
But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him. 
Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.
“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you. 
He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it. 
“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm. 
It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed. 
You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it. 
But, no dice. 
The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to. 
It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse. 
Jason sighed through his nose. 
“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?” 
Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did. 
You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you. 
When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.
This was quiet, and calm, and gentle. 
When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound. 
His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it. 
“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” 
It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind. 
“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.” 
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you. 
… 
Dick explicitly told you to stay put. 
They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader. 
Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him. 
You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself. 
“Jason!” 
You screamed out his name, you leapt forward. 
Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started. 
Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.) 
Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side. 
At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason. 
His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass. 
You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen. 
Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him. 
Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory. 
“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you. 
You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt. 
Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once. 
“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists. 
The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety. 
Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding. 
Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off. 
… 
You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant. 
“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk. 
It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you. 
It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke. 
You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time. 
“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.” 
It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them. 
You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him. 
Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.” 
There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line. 
‘Maybe I just have to care.’ 
Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it. 
After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable. 
“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.” 
There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning. 
You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze. 
‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’ 
The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely. 
“It’s nothing.” You told him. 
You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from. 
Jason shook his head at this statement. 
He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it. 
When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain. 
After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes. 
“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply. 
You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it. 
Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble. 
Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize. 
There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident. 
Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth. 
“I meant what I said.” You told him. 
At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened. 
He didn’t find any. 
You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound. 
… 
The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could. 
When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street. 
Panic flooded you. 
You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately. 
“Don’t move!” He shouted. 
“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back. 
Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason. 
Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes. 
He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him. 
When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him. 
“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die. 
There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him. 
His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart. 
“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.” 
You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning. 
He thought he was a dead weight to your life. 
“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!” 
You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you. 
“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully. 
You ignored him. 
You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting. 
“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!” 
“You have to let go.”
Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him. 
But of course, you refused. 
“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.” 
As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more. 
Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of. 
He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned. 
So Jason did what he had to do. 
He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip. 
“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-” 
You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself. 
You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely. 
You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground. 
… 
If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him. 
When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat. 
You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it. 
“All done.” He said quietly. 
You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place. 
“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you. 
You felt your heart sink. 
In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there. 
You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave. 
It was something else. 
It had to be something else. 
Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you. 
He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours. 
And now he was trying to back down from that. 
You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.
The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first. 
In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey. 
You were both so vulnerable. 
Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed. 
If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that. 
He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things. 
As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask. 
You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you. 
You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly. 
You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe. 
You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through. 
He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you. 
“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin. 
He knew that it would break him. 
He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him. 
Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought. 
You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you. 
“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was. 
“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat. 
Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you. 
You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible. 
“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.” 
You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back. 
“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.” 
Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen. 
“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips. 
Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once. 
He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body. 
He would never be perfect - but he was yours.
...
PLEASE NOTE: I do have a sequel in mind for this, but I don't know when I am going to have it finished and posted. Please do not ask me to write more of this or ask me when the sequel will be coming. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work here that I have already written.
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tsams-and-co-memes · 6 months
Text
TEAPS Eclipse Canon Info
Updated - 9/7/24
Eclipse's likes:
Cyberpunk (the aesthetic, I’m assuming)
Scaring children (<- possibly a past iteration of him enjoyed scaring kids, but it's unknown if he still feels that way)
Anything SCP related
Glowing (according to a statement he made once. He could've been lying though, so I'm not sure)
Kids (<- this was mumbled, and it's possible that it was sarcasm)
Papers, Please (it's one of his favorite games)
Theoretical physics
Puzzles (he likes things that help keep the mind sharp)
Eclipse's dislikes:
Being ignored
Tattletail
Bloodmoon
Humans (he thinks they're disgusting)
Miscellaneous:
Eclipse’s birthday is June 1st
He watches anime. At the very least, we know he’s watched Re: Zero
It was Eclipse's happy thoughts that spawned Lunar (according to Lunar himself)
He may possibly have an interest in the backrooms/the backrooms lore, since he teleported Sun and Moon to places similar or identical to the backrooms
He can be picky about thematic character names (ex: Potion Permit NPCs having names based on their jobs, like Mayor Myer)
He finds a decent amount of attraction appeal in military-esque attire
He's the tiniest bit vain, even seeing art of himself in military attire and saying, "I will say, it is rather pleasant to see me in such a... Uniform. Very much.”
Before dying, Eclipse had made attempts to study the astral bodies
Eclipse's body is made from parts of fazcade arcade machines
He doesn't care about fashion or media
Eclipse's rays don't move
Eclipse knows how to drive
Eclipse implied that he's dealt with vampires before (the implication was either vampires or Bloodmoon)
Eclipse is/has been studying theoretical physics. Not for a specific reason, aside from the fact that it interests him
Eclipse doesn't watch any shows
He has a tendency to push away anyone that he starts getting close with
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57sfinest · 2 years
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theoretical entroponetics: the post
okay. LONG post incoming. i have summarized all available information on the pale, separated into confirmed objective truth & in-canon speculation that may or may not be true, and then appended my own very detailed theory on the pale! this post is meant as a resource; please feel free to add things of your own in replies/reblogs (please tag me if you do!) or point out any errors i may have made. you’re welcome to use any of my personal theory in your own work but please credit me if you do!! (and tag me in that/send it to me, i really want to see what you do with it!)
Here’s what we *know* about the pale, according to in-game and concept art: 
It erases data, at least the kind stored on radiocomputer filament and magnetic tapes.
It has no dimensions of its own- pale latitude compressors serve to force dimensions on raw pale and allow navigation. 
The pale is referred to in the context of entropy
It arrived with mankind, but not immediately- there are 8000 years of written history, but the pale was first recorded 6000 years ago, implying that pale either didn’t start forming immediately or that it was so insignificant/distant that it went unnoticed for 2000 years. 
There exists a group of people who are actively trying to expedite entroponetic collapse; the ideology is called entropolism
To this point, pale isn’t immediately visible. Pale has molecular structure, but manifests as a waveform, and only becomes visible at a certain distance from the origin, once wave frequency is sufficiently high. 
During pale exposure, people experience “sense objects”: visual or auditory hallucinations and/or vivid physical recollections of memories. These hallucinations may originate from their own consciousness or someone else’s. c
People require physical and mental examinations before interisolary travel and are allotted a certain number of days per year as their pale exposure threshold. 
Overexposure results in a pale “addiction”- these individuals crave pale exposure, and it’s unclear if this addiction can ever be broken. It’s also unclear whether there is a point at which pale exposure becomes lethal, but given that it dissolves matter, we can be fairly certain that a given length of continuous exposure will kill. 
Radio signals, cold plasma torches and anodic sound are all used to manage the pale to permit travel through it. Plasma torches destabilize the molecular structure of the pale to create gaps, anodic sound widens and maintains these gaps, and radio signals rationalize the pale into recognizable dimensions.
Radio signals are, in return, susceptible to corruption by the pale, resulting in entroponetic crosstalk, where signals from the past or the future are transmitted to the present. CCP is one such phenomenon and is directly related to the formation of new pale through magpie interpretation.
There is a dedicated Union for people who work in and with the pale (the Pale Workers Union). They have two slogans; “The light purifies; The sound absolves; The pale no more” and “Son et Fureur” (sound and fury)
Here’s what we may choose to believe about the pale, based on the thoughts and beliefs of in-game characters:
In conversation with Soona, the pale is described as a “curdling milk” phenomenon: “repulsive, but natural”
In this same conversation you can theorize that the churches were meant to contain the pale origins; out of the seven churches, six were destroyed during the suzerain or the revolution
The phasmid and whatever other lifeforms it’s communicated with believe that entroponetic collapse is comparable to an oxygen holocaust (i.e. the great oxygenation event), implying mass extinction due to a toxic overabundance of sapient thought
Harry refers to it once by saying “The wolf is at the door. It’s going to eat the sun.” so take that as you will
It’s likely that Tiago’s “Mother” is some manifestation from the pale, if you choose to believe that the 2mm hole is in fact a pale origin point (the concept art does confirm it’s a pale origin, but the game offers other explanations, so I won’t say it’s the only answer)
Inframaterialists believe that revolutionary action (NOT thought) may create a counter-force that will prevent the spread of pale; it’s unclear if any reversal is possible.
The world will be fully consumed by the pale in 27 years (I put it here because you may or may not believe that shivers and harry are reliably sourcing this information)
And now my personal speculation about the pale:
A quick and easy point: it’s confirmed that the pale has a measurable EMF “exhalation” frequency that varies with proximity. Strong enough EMF pulses can actually tamper with magnetic storage- radiocomputer filaments! Electronics! Fortress Accident data loss! This gives us a tangible explanation for why pale can delete data :)
This may also explain its ability to cause radio interference- radio frequencies are just a subset of EMF frequencies, so it’s possible that pale exhalation on *just the right frequency* is what’s responsible for the entroponetic crosstalk we get on radios sometimes
The pale canonically has an atomic structure, but it also has wave properties, so it’s possible that the pale has wave-particle duality on its subatomic level, like photons do
Based on this, entroponetics is likely a very similar field to quantum mechanics, which might be an interesting source of ideas for anyone (like me) who wants to explore pale-related possibilities
The pale could be a manifestation of raw patterns. That’s why math “forces dimensions” on it- it rationalizes or “tames” the patterns, which allows it to be manipulated to a certain degree.
There are several references to the pale that refer to mathematical concepts and patterns, saying that the world dissolves into “a tangle of azimuths and cosines” as it blends into the interisolary pale- more on this later
Steban comments that the pale is commonly theorized to be nostalgia or “historical inertia”, but it’s largely agreed that it’s “the past” in a broad sense. Thinking about the idiom that history repeats itself, it could be that history/the past is part of the pattern that comprises the pale, and that it’s also the type of pattern most readily perceived by people (people don’t viscerally *perceive* math, for example, but we experience memories)
To first define entropy: Chemically speaking, “the measure of a system’s thermal energy per unit temperature that is unavailable for doing useful work. (per encyclopedia britannica).” Physically speaking, it’s a measure of randomness or disorder in a system. Less work/less order = more entropy; it’s a physicochemical “winding down” of a given system
It’s commonly thought that pale is the entropic force, but what if it’s the opposite? (Keep in mind the chemical definition: less ability to do work = more entropy) Consider: the pale as less entropic, a cleanup force, recycling the potential lost by death and destruction in the universe. This in part explains why a dead person’s memory is present in the pale- their potential has been recycled into the pale in the form of their memories (their life’s *pattern*)
Enthalpy is a related concept to entropy and is defined as the total energy contained within a system. Holding the system enthalpy constant- saying the universe will always have the same amount of total energy, no matter what, according to thermodynamics- results in an entropic tug-of-war between the pale and the world. The pale wins through sheer inertia (again, inertia is mentioned specifically in game)
Overall: think of the world as “cooling”, losing heat and energy through war and death and complacency. Think of the pale as steam and heat, melting down old materials to start it all over again. (Kim says, *through entroponetic interference*: “it’s been a long, cold winter.”)
Consider: the pale as a sinusoidal function, eternally repeating. The pale recycling the universe to start a new cycle, “spending” itself, resulting in pale not being present in the beginning. Then, as the new things begin to settle- with the advent of the human mind, specifically- the pale reforming, slowly reclaiming potential, eventually ending the cycle to start again.
In comes CCP and magpies. Consider: CCP as a backwards transmission from the next “cycle” (after all, pale has no sense of time). Magpies as *pattern-sensitive* people who are able to decode CCP into something useful called novelty. They reach into the potential of the next cycle to build the potential in their current one- this paradox could be what creates more pale, because (and this is where it gets weird, I apologize) doing this retroactively increases the total amount of energy/work/potential in the current cycle to have been reclaimed by the pale for the next one.
Think of the pale as the compost bin for every single thought in the universe. The pale is the exact right size to compost every little atom and thought in the universe, and can hold nothing extra. But magpies reach into the future, the next cycle, and bring in extra. This paradox forces the pale to grow to accommodate the additional material, which also increases the starting potential of the next cycle. This process allows each cycle to accumulate minor changes from the previous one, which can snowball over many cycles.
Furthermore, to the inframaterialists’ point: revolutionary action would be such a radical shift in inertia that it would increase the potential in the world, forcing the pale to pause/shrink to “balance the equation” in terms of pale-vs-world thermodynamics. So maybe they’re right after all :)
And some diagramming, to explain the utter bullshit I’ve just dropped:
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emberunderscore · 2 months
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FableSMP EPIC the musical AU
whole thing comes from the perspective of Midas (as Quixis specifically) being Scylla, which means Icarus has to be Odysseus, which is also fitting tbh.
this is only based on the released sagas bc i dont have the vibe of the future characters yet (i dont look at a whole lot of snippets). also dont think about any of the blood family stuff too hard - theres nothing weird dw but it just makes stuff complicated with the gods
Monsters
Scylla - Quixis Midas
The ideas of Scylla being human turned monster, Midas is human turned Quixis, which in this universe could be something of a replacement for monstrous, which also works with 
Spooky bitch Midas propaganda
Look at my edit to be even more convinced
Polyphemus - Leviathan/Vorago
Probably makes most sense with Leviathan
Instead of the parent/child relationship with Poseidon they're siblings (ocie is poseidon)
Humans/Dead people
Odysseus - Icarus
Icarus has to be Ody because of Midas being Scylla
The song Monster
The conflicts within the plot work well with Icarus’ own relationships
Eury and Ody see each other as brothers, even though it isn't’t blood. Maybe they’re not blood related in this AU
Eurylochus: Rae
Brothers!!
Rae is seen as the leader of Lodestar, which works well with Eury’s place as the voice of the crew
Penelope: Centross??
prison duo
but it actually works because Icarus would do anything for him. just look at season 3
he's probably not smart enough to be penelope but the agenda is more important than that
Telemachus: Oscar
Ik Oscar isn't Icarus' kid but he is Centross and theoretically Centross would've been the one to raise him anyway
See Legendary
Polities: Athena
Optimist
Song open arms
"everything's changed since polities"
Perimedes: Caspian
Perimedes is the one who stabs Odysseus in the back to stop him from killing Eurylochus in Mutiny
For Rae? Cas wouldn't hesitate
Tireseas: Haley
Dead prophet
who else
Ody's dead mom: Isla
Isla is Icarus' mom??? In this AU??? /s
Gods
Zeus: Fable
Orignially this was Epros but I was convinced to change it
Massive ego
Yellow
Actual reasons in this post
Athena: Enderian
This could also be fable but I dont think Icarus would defy him like how he does
Goddess of the Mind, need I say more
Aeolus: Aurelius
They have the vibes I think
Aeolus is gender and so is Aurelius
There are a lot of options I think
I like the idea of the Winions(?) being the piglins they had in their bunker
Poseidon: Ocie
Ocean
At the beginning Ocie is so ready to kill people, she does not care for human life. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves
She would do that for Vorago
Canon compliant beef with Icarus 
Circe: Momboo
My first thought was Ven because I'm a fucking dumbass
It makes so much more sense than Ven
Plant lady, plant witch
badass
girlboss
pretty woman
Hermes: Rakai
They have the vibes
One of the very few gods to tolerate Icarus
gender
Apollo: Malitae
Apollo sounds so fruity in god games
Apollo cares most about music in god games which is a form of expression so i think it fits for Malitae to be him
Hephaestus: Nexus
In god games Hephaestus' thing is trust, he's pissed that Ody betrayed his crew
Nexus is the Goddess of Loyalty so it fits really well that she'd be upset about that
Nexus was also a knight so being a god of blacksmithing isn't too far from that
Aphrodite: Soul
Aphrodite cares about Ody's mom's broken heart
If we thing of it in the context of soulbonds it makes sense that Soul would be upset about that
Ares: Netherum
Ares is the only one in god games to match Athena's power, which checks out - major god to major god
Maybe its a bit ooc for Netherum themself
But god of destruction as the god of war. thats something
Would totally step in for Soul
Hera: Perix
In this AU we ignore family dynamics- Perix is not married
Calls Athena "baby" (kinda gay)
Fits the vibe
can you come up with a better idea? no, nor could I (credit to Sardar106 for this casting lol)
Calypso: Ven
They're so "This could never really happen but let us pretend"
"I wish we could've been something"
Look at this post (person who reblogged has better words than me go read that)
thank you for coming to my au talk. please share your own thoughts and opinions (but also remember that i am objectively correct all of the time /j)
Updated after Wisdom Saga
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overthinkinglotr · 2 years
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People keep insulting the Amazon Lord of the Rings show by comparing it to fanfiction when really it's the EXACT opposite of fanfiction! It's so interesting/awful because it's like the ultimate ANTI-fanfiction! I was talking to someone the other day and wasn't aware that lots of people don't know about the insane complicated rights issues happening behind the scenes of the Amazon Show but it's wild. To give a quick summary of the Battle of the Five Rights Issues, as I currently understand it: 1. Amazon only has the rights to make a show about the pre-LOTR era as described in the Lord of the Rings books-- primarily in the appendices of Return the King, where a handful of pages give a brief timeline of some events that happened before the stories. In practice this means they are unable to use nearly all of the characters, places, and events people are familiar with when they think about Middle Earth. They have to make up everything out of whole cloth-- from characters to events to settings. This is either because of timeline reasons or for legal reasons or for both. Whenever they do manage to scrounge up the rights to something you might even vaguely remember (like Mithril) they announce it with enormous fanfare like they're a marvel movie introducing an avenger.
(Parenthetical: Another weird thing I noticed is that the series features practically zero quotes from Tolkien. I only counted about like 4 lines that were edited versions of lines from the books? While this is just a wild tinfoil hat theory, It does feel to me like there might've been some kind of limitation on the amount of Tolkien's words they were allowed to use, as well as the obvious limitations on characters and plot points and etc. The show has the rights to so few things and always REALLY wants you to know when it has the rights to something. It's desperate to remind you of the original books. You would think that, when it's unable to rely on familiar characters or places or events or plot points or music or etc, they would rely instead on Tolkien's really recognizable prose/poetry/language to form an emotional connection to the original stories. After all, language is the heart of Middle Earth, the author's love of language is the reason the world was created, and the unique prose of the story is kinda the soul of why it's memorable. And again, they theoretically have the rights to everything mentioned in the original trilogy right? Theoretically? So it's really odd that they don't use almost any of the language, unlike basically every other adaptation. It might just be a weird writing decision, but it's so strange that it really makes me feel like they were limited or at least dissuaded from including lines from the books.)
2. Amazon is legally Not Allowed to feature things that were mentioned in the Unfinished Tales or the Silmarillion, despite the fact that those are the books that contain most of the stuff about the era they're theoretically adapting. This leads to a bunch of really weird stuff where they introduce things you'd only care about if you read the Silmarillion, but can't include any of the things that would actually make you care about it. Like people who Aren't deep into the lore have literally zero emotional investment in Celebrimbor, but people who ARE deep into the lore know that you can't reference any of the reasons they care about it. 3. Amazon's series is NOT part of the same canon as the Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema films. They're not. However they obviously want to trick people into thinking they are because those movies are popular and a prequel to them would make money even if it sucked (see the Hobbit films.) But again, New Line Cinema still wants to make its own LOTR content based on the slivers of rights they've managed to grab onto, and don't want Amazon to step on their toes. So IIRC Amazon actually made a deal with New Line Cinema that they were allowed to imitate their movie franchise's aesthetic (to keep the brand popular and in the public eye)........ BUT if New Line Cinema ever felt like Amazon was infringing too much on their territory, they could step in and stop it. So the show just sorta looks and sounds like a bland knockoff of the New Line films, because that's all they're legally allowed to be XD. Like they're supposed to look/sound just enough like them to trick you, but they're not legally allowed to include the specific things from the PJ films that would actually make you feel nostalgic for them (like the famous musical leitmotifs.) 4. Part of the deal was that the Tolkien Estate could step in and change anything in the show if they felt it wasn't true to the lore-- which is ridiculous because again, Amazon basically doesn't own the rights to any of the lore so they're just making stuff up anyway. From what I can tell it seems like this basically means the Tolkien Estate can arbitrarily veto any creative decisions based on whatever they've decided “Tolkien would've wanted,” which obviously limits what Amazon is able to do (and likely prevents them from actually criticizing the awful problematic elements of Tolkien's worldbuilding)
5. Ok I don't have a fifth one. SO BASICALLY: Yes, the Amazon series is about a bunch of original characters in almost completely original settings featuring original events and original plot points that (for the most part) doesn't even include any of Tolkien's actual words, and also isn't affiliated with and doesn't include the recognizable things like musical motifs from the New Line Cinema films. But that doesn't make it fanfic. Because fanfiction is when you take another's person's characters and stories and write your own weird personal take on them, even if you don't legally own it. Who legally owns the copyright is irrelevant in fanfiction. Fanfic it's about writing a story with the characters and world you love, about transforming a story you're passionate about even if you don't legally own the rights. Amazon Rings of Power is what happens when an entire show is completely written around what you legally own the rights to. Every aspect of it only exists as an elaborate tap dance around copyright infringement. Again, I think the Amazon series is more interesting as "a study of how corporations/megafranchises can do massive harm and also weaken our ability to create good art" than it is as a tv show, alskdjfsdlf.
If fanfiction is "writing something you love regardless of whether you own the rights" then Rings of Power is "writing whatever fits within the extremely narrow box of the rights you happen to own." And that makes it....a very strange thing to exist! It’s kinda a shining example of how giant media monopolies and copyright laws designed to benefit them end up hamstringing everyone’s ability to create meaningful art, even the corporations themselves.
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witchyafterdark · 11 months
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Consolidated HL Character Profile #1:
— Ominis Gaunt —
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Note: The following information on this post are a combination of my personal headcanons and canon-compliant resources. I have done research on this but, of course, these are pure speculation since we do not have actual canon information about this character. I hope you all enjoy this! 💕
Tags and shout-outs are at the end of this post!
This is a very, very long post! Take your time.
—---—---—---—---—
I. Possible Birth Place
The last of the Gaunts, as we know it, have lived in poverty. The members of this once noble house trickled down to Marvolo Gaunt and his two children — Merope and Morfin.
According to the book, (Half-Blood Prince; Chapter 10, "The House of Gaunt") the family was living in a rundown shack that Harry Potter wondered whether it was inhabited, or not.
"... its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime."
The description of the Gaunts' living conditions were shown during Bob Ogden's visit in Little Hangleton around the early 1920's. As the wiki suggests, Ominis should already be in his late 40's (and close to his supposed death). It was also said that due to their vein of instability, arrogance, and pride, the family gold has been squandered well before the last generations were born.
Now, based on the canon timeline, there is a high chance that Ominis and Marvolo were siblings — something this fandom seems to agree on.
"Chronologically, Marvolo Gaunt could be one of the elder siblings who tortured Ominis with the Cruciatus Curse."
However, I personally find it hard to picture him having been born and raised in that same shack in Little Hangleton. While it's very possible to have a family living together in a small, decrepit house, it seems like there are more than four members of the second-to-the-last generation of Gaunts.
Ominis had both parents present, his Aunt Noctua, and older siblings (one of which could be Marvolo himself). That would be at least five family members living under one roof. I just find it a little difficult to believe that someone who is as kempt and posh-looking as Ominis would be living in a shack.
Also, he seems to be the least-favorite child based on how his parents and siblings have treated him. So, why would he have neat school robes if they couldn't really afford it, right? And why give the good clothes to the blind, black-sheep of the family?
This led me to think that maybe, they did have some money to spare during those times. Another accepted headcanon of the fandom is that the Gaunts needed to keep up with the façade that they are still rich and prominent by dressing up aristocratically and by speaking in a posh accent (which is called Received Pronunciation, also called the Queen's Accent).
Furthermore, we literally almost got the Gaunt Manor questline, with a courtyard, in the game but the developers cancelled it. This could be the proof that they have also thought of the fact that Ominis did not grow up, nor was he born, in a dilapidated shack.
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But wait!
How and where did I start pinpointing the Gaunts' possible ancestral origins? Well, I found a theorized Timeline of Salazar Slytherin's Descendants compiled and analyzed by Obversa (whom I am a long-time fan of, and usual source of information). Please take a moment to check this part out:
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[This is the Reddit link to the whole post!]
So... where do we start with Ominis' theoretical birth place? I have attached a map that is highlighted in different colors to make it easier to understand.
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1. Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire (Highlighted in blue)
Situated at the center of the English map, one of the possible birthplaces of Ominis Gaunt is either Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire.
We know that the Gaunts were descendants of Cadmus Peverell, the original owner of the Resurrection Stone (a.k.a. The Heirloom Gaunt Ring). So, I got to trace back the origins of the last name Peverell, where they're from and which period they came to be.
According to House of Names, the Peverell line is one of the thousand new names that the Norman Conquest brought to England in the year 1066 CE.
William Peverell, the "natural son of William the Conqueror," received his share of 162 manors; many of which were in these two counties.
As stated from the pictured timeline above, Cadmus Peverell had been born at around the year 1214 CE.
A hundred and sixty-two manors under the Peverell family name alone seem like it's a possibility that the three Peverell brothers (Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus) inherited at least one of these manors as part of familial land distribution.
And once again, citing the timeline above, the Peverell line (at least in Cadmus' side) possibly ended with a female; who married a male Gaunt. It's likely that they moved to one of these manors as a start of the foundation of the House of Gaunt.
— An example in Derbyshire:
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— An example in Nottinghamshire:
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These two examples look like Gaunt Manor style, in my opinion. So far, I'm highly convinced that it's either Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire due to the manors being quite sequestered from city propers and large, populated towns.
2. Yorkshire (Encircled in red on the map)
This one is actually the suggestion of the lovely @diligentcranberry (Thank you for entertaining my unhinged obsession about the Gaunts origins).
It is said that Little Hangleton is approximately 200 miles north of Privet Drive. Now, Privet Drive is in Surrey. When I checked on the maps, York is directly north of Surrey; at around 203 miles, if you travel by foot.
There is also the possibility that perhaps the Gaunts simply moved towns instead of counties and cities. Maybe there is a magically hidden part of Yorkshire that is isolated enough to be far away from the muggles (or muggleborns) and nosy neighbors for them to conduct their wicked and inhumane past time activities: torturing muggles for sport.
Not only would this place be an ideal location for illicit activities, the density of trees around this area sounded like something the Gaunt family would like to have so that they are not easily accessible to anyone, including Ministry officials.
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Runner-up Place: Godric's Hollow (Lined in pink on the map; the whole West Countryside)
There has been speculation that the Gaunts once resided in Godric's Hollow (as did other Wizarding families). Most people would also think that the Gaunts have ties to this place since one Peverell was buried here.
"Every now and then, he [Harry] recognized a surname that, like Abbott, he had met at Hogwarts. Sometimes, there were several generations of the same Wizarding family represented in the graveyard: Harry could tell from the dates that it had either died out, or the current members had moved away from Godric's Hollow."
The wiki even suggested that Godric's Hollow is Cadmus Peverell's final resting place. However, there is no canonical reference to this speculation. According to the book (The Deathly Hallows; Chapter 16, "Godric's Hollow"), Hermione only confirmed seeing Ignotus' tombstone. And while it was the norm to bury family members together in the same graveyard, we have no evidence that Cadmus was, in fact, buried alongside his brothers.
Lastly, official information from Wizarding World states that it was only Ignotus that had been found buried there, but no evidence pointed to where the others may be.
Runner-up Place: Leicestershire (Highlight in orange on the map)
This is actually the last place I researched because I remember that there was a man named John of Gaunt (1340-1399). He was the father of King Henry IV, and used to be one of the richest men of this century. I didn't find anything about him at first... until I saw who his wife was.
John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, had been married thrice in his lifetime. But it was his second wife, Constance of Castile (1354-1394) that piqued my interest.
Now, this sounds like a long-shot. But the theorized Timeline above proposed that Salazar Slytherin could be from Burgos, Castile, Spain. It wouldn't be totally impossible that Slytherin himself had children back in Spain; or that some of the children he sired during his stay in Scotland possibly moved back to Spain.
At least in my mind, there is a chance that Constance of Castile might be one of the descendants of Salazar Slytherin who ended up marrying a Gaunt.
Then again, Constance and John only had a surviving daughter, and the canonical information about the Peverell line was completely thrown out of the window with this theory. So, it's highly unlikely that this place was the ancestral origins of the future Gaunts. Still, this was fun to include!
End Results:
There is strong evidence that Ominis Gaunt may have been born in either Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, or Yorkshire. I know there's so much information to consider regarding this, so it's your decision which county you would use that fits your headcanons.
As for my personal headcanon, I'd say he's born in an ancestral manor that once belonged to the Peverells, which was located in Derbyshire.
But as the family fortune started to dwindle due to poor management, it ultimately fell unto Marvolo to sell the property and find another place to move to. And since Marvolo doesn't seem to be the type to find employment, the money he had gotten from the sold property almost immediately got used up. In the end, he and his remaining family had to move to that dilapidated shack in Little Hangleton, Yorkshire.
—---—---—---—---—
II. Possible Date of Birth
Note: If you're not interested in astrology, you can just skip this one, and go to Part 3, 4, and 5!
This section of the post is pure speculation, and no solid proof at all. But we do know that Ominis should be born between September 1, 1874 and August 31, 1875 if he was to be eleven years-old during the start of his first year at Hogwarts. Therefore, all of the following information is gathered by astrological observations of his character.
(I have a personal tarot and astrology account, @tarotwitchy, if you guys are interested in knowing more about this type of content).
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Based on character analysis, I believe that Ominis is a Capricorn Sun, Pisces Moon, and Scorpio Rising.
Now, what does that mean?
Let's break down his character one astrological placement at a time.
1. Capricorn Sun
— a person with their Sun in Capricorn is someone who is determined to make the most out of their life. Hard working, perseverant, and resilient, they don't allow themselves to succumb in to their losses and admit defeat.
— Ominis surely displayed these characteristics throughout the game. He doesn't let his disability stop him from accomplishing the things he set his mind to. He doesn't want his traumatic beginnings to inhibit his potentiality for success and happiness outside of his family's customs. When he sets his mind on something, he sees through it (no pun intended).
— Also, he is loyal to the good cause. He knows what's right and what's wrong. He isn't afraid of calling out anyone for their wrongdoings, nor does he back off from confrontation. This behavior of his was very apparent when he secretly followed the new fifth-year and Sebastian to the catacombs.
— There's also a bit of a savior-complex in him; wherein he feels he could set someone straight, tell them what to do or what not to do, can have a demanding demeanor at times, and could perhaps want to control his environment to make it easier for him to navigate. (So, yes. All of those Dominis stories can actually be a canonical behavior of his).
2. Pisces Moon
— With all that was said about his Sun Sign, his Pisces Moon is the reason we get a softer, gentler version of his Capricorn. People with Pisces Moons are known to be emotionally wise beyond their years. Their ability to empathize people's experiences are astounding, and their compassion is matched only by their fellow water signs.
— This admirable kindness that Ominis possesses is what we eventually understand and come to associate with him. When faced with the opportunity to torture muggles like his family does, his first instinct is to refuse. In spite of his blindness, he doesn't need sight to see how all of that was very immoral and apathetic. And even as he was forced to cast the Cruciatus Curse, he still laments and regrets that event up to the present time.
— One more thing to note is that Ominis could have simply reported Sebastian as soon as the latter displayed interest in the Dark Arts. But he didn't because of three reasons: He didn't want to lose his best friend, he still believed in Sebastian's chance to redeem and pull himself out of the darkness, and he empathized with Sebastian's desperation to find a cure for Anne. This altruistic attitude is what's best about him.
— It also affirms my previous headcanon about Ominis' sleeping habits, as Pisces rules over the realms of sleep.
3. Capricorn Mercury
— It's very obvious that Ominis is quite mature for his age. The way he talks, thinks, and carries himself is trademark Capricorn Mercury. He is also straightforward and he plans ahead not just for himself but for others. At the end of the game, he literally said, "whatever lies ahead, we must face it together."
— Mercury is the planet of communication, intellect, memory, and learning. Ominis' style of communication is quite formal and authoritative in nature, and he keeps it that way. He is able to express himself in a put-together manner that conveys his thoughts crystal-clear. He doesn't speak in riddles (👀) and he wants to be understood the first time around.
4. Sagittarius Venus
— Alright, this one is a surprising placement for Ominis. But after a while, I found this to be quite fitting for him! While he is someone who we consider as "docile" or "serene" on most days, having his Venus in Sagittarius gives him a streak of curiosity and a yearning for exploration; as Sagittarius is the sign of higher learning and traveling.
— The first time we see him (if you're a Slytherin) is in the common room being cheeky about the first-years who are trying to spot mermaids through the windows. He has a playful side to him that balances out majority of his more serious and somber placements. The fact that he is closest to Sebastian (who is really fiery and passionate) is proof that Ominis can hold his own when it comes to his best friend's fervent personality.
— Of course, Venus is the planet of love and romance. Majority of the stories I've read, Ominis is the kind of man who will study his partner's personality, routine, habits, quirks, likes and dislikes, special interests, and goals and dreams. This is the behavior of a well-developed Sagittarius Venus. They will absolutely love to get to know their partner's personhood beyond the superficial. They will also keep their partnership alive by sharing life experiences together and encouraging their partner to explore more novel and romantic moments with them.
5. Scorpio Mars
— Where to begin with this placement? It's quite hard to believe, at first, that Ominis would have his Mars in Scorpio. That would entail someone who is traditionally brusque, aggressive, and would embody the combination of Martian-Plutonian qualities.
— But in his case, there is a reason why people are compelled to write, draw, and express him as Dominis. It's because even if he haven't actually seen him being a dominant man, we instinctively know that he is capable of it. That's the effect of Scorpio Mars. The evidence of this placement is not always "in your face." It can be subtle, it can be a secret. His dominance and assertiveness is just dancing along the edge of his skin.
— But one of the most important things to remember about them is that once a Scorpio Mars has had enough, they snap. And they will always get the last word after they have put people in their place, snapped some bones, and razed the earth. And this is something Ominis is very much capable of doing. But his self-control is immaculate.
6. Scorpio Rising
— Again, this seems very unlikely at first glance. But upon further observation, Ominis is the type of guy you don't really know much about unless he purposefully let you in on his private circle, explicitly says something about himself. He also has strong eyes that pierce through others in spite of his blindness. His striking face and cheekbones are unforgettable, and he doesn't look like anyone else. Others also can't help but feel compelled to want to know more about him, as his enigmatic aura inevitably pulls them in (whether he likes it, or not. That's why most Scorpio Risings have trouble with unsolicited attention).
— To drive this point further, if you check out this video of other NPC's talking about him, they all seem to come to a polarized conclusion, with the common thread of 'Ominis is hiding something.' Granted that the name Gaunt, in and of itself, strikes fear and wary in people's hearts, others have really strong opinions about him without even getting to know him personally. That, too, is something most Scorpio Risings struggle with.
End Results:
Ominis Gaunt was born on January 11, 1875 at around 03:00AM, during the winter season.
Of course, this is only my personal headcanon, and based on my astrological research and experience. The runner-up dates I had in mind would make him fall in the Sun Sign of Pisces, Cancer, Aquarius, and even Scorpio! But the rest of the chart doesn't really align with the rest of his personality. Ultimately, January 11th is the final date I believe suits him most.
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III. Psychometric Analysis
Note: I will be linking the sites for these tests should you want to take them yourself! 😊 Have fun!
1. MBTI
— ISTJ (Introvert, Sensing, Thinking, Judging)
"They rely on their past experience to guide them, and are most comfortable in familiar surroundings. On personality trait measures, they score as Calm, Stable, Steady, Cautious, and Conventional. The ISTJ’s main and most admirable strength is perseverance; people of this type simply do not give up. They also have a natural instinct to protect and defend, as they are loyal, reliable and committed."
These descriptions speak for themselves when it comes to knowing Ominis' personality type. People who have a lack of sight (or those who are legally blind) rely on fixed structures and routines to help ease their everyday needs. While it is possible for them to be spontaneous, they still have to have familiarity and past experience in the spontaneity they'll participate in.
He is very loyal, to a fault sometimes. He's committed in making sure that his beloved friends are not dallying in things they shouldn't be. He knows the difference between right and wrong, and trusts his life experiences to guide him to proper decisions.
2. Enneagram
— Type 6 with wing 5; SP/SX (The Defender)
"The committed, security-oriented type, sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious."
"Their basic fear is being without support and guidance, having nowhere or no one to hold onto. This is why their basic desire is to have security and support from their chosen people."
This one is very obvious. It's quite apparent that he is the type of person who can be anxious if things and people aren't where he wanted them to be. While he yearns for cooperation due to his need for security, other people who aren't used to this kind of behavior will find him controlling; and perhaps, even smothering.
Nevertheless, Ominis' intentions come from a good place. He doesn't want his people to be hurt or harmed. He also has an impeccable intuition to predict outcomes of certain situations, which makes him look paranoid. But his assumptions, more often than not, are proven to be correct!
3. Four Temperaments
— Melancholic–Phlegmatic (The Analyst)
"The Melancholy-Phlegmatic is a pleasant and accommodating person who tends to seek a structured environment requiring attention to detail. They have a self-sacrificing, self-critical nature, and struggle with guilt feelings about things that are not often their fault. The Melancholy-Phlegmatic is more conscientious and private than the other Melancholy blends."
This is quite self-explanatory. Ominis has two distinct behavior: the calm and peaceful, and the anxious and prickly. When things are going the way it's supposed to be (in his definition), he would be placated and docile. We see him as approachable and a little more open. But when things aren't going according to plan, or when things suddenly happen unexpectedly, he's like a rolling wheel going in different directions trying to extinguish the uncontrollable fires of disaster.
He's the first to respond by going to Headmaster Black to fabricate a story to hide what really happened between the Sallows, and make it look like a family argument instead. He's the one to alert MC that Anne went to get Solomon, and that we should do something about it immediately. He is the safety net of all these people in his life.
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IV. Corporeal Patronus
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I want to give a shout out to @ponfarrdraws for discussing this with me!
We were wondering what Ominis' corporeal Patronus would be, should he be able to cast one. I've had a lot of speculation, going through one animal at a time. But ultimately settled with a Mongoose. This animal is not on the official list of Patronuses but it still has a lot of weight and meaning.
This article states that mongooses are a symbol of protection and are considered to be wards against evil. To quote:
"As a totem, the mongoose has the magical attributes of defense, protection, and destroying evil. The mongoose symbolizes action, adventure, boldness, fearlessness, impulsiveness, independence, optimism, rebellion, resistance, resourcefulness, speed, and adaptation. As a spirit animal, it encourages us to confront our enemies because we can overcome much stronger rivals than ourselves."
If Ominis were to find himself facing a dementor, he would probably be the first to sense its presence, and probably the most affected. Even though he wouldn't be able to see the frightening features of a dementor, he would be feeling the immediate change in his senses — his environment growing cold, no sounds of animals around, and the overall sensation of hopelessness and misery. He would be completely thrown off by the sudden change in his surroundings; something that would send him into a state of panic.
But with this Patronus, it represents his determination to stand firm in the face of adversity, to not give in easily without putting up a fight, and to prove that he is as deadly as any dementor that would stand in his way.
I personally headcanon this animal for obvious reasons. He truly is a fighter in a den of snakes. No matter how many times his family strikes against him, he just takes his time to recover and stand back up again. He is clearly outnumbered by his family members. No one else can support him in his opposition ever since his Aunt Noctua passed away. Regardless, he doesn't seem the kind to bow his head in defeat just to save his skin. He fights back until he can't anymore; something the mongoose is well-known for.
And let's just say that Ominis did die at 50-years of age. He still got the last laugh out of them all since he got to pass away on his own terms, away from the very people he loathed since childhood. That's still a victory in his book, and that's what this patronus represents.
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V. Wand Information
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1. Wand Wood
Based on the physical characteristics of this wand and the meaning of the wood, it's highly possible that Ominis' wand is made from Ebony Wood.
According to the wand wood information:
"This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. [...] the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose."
This type of wand wood, in my opinion, is a reflection of Ominis' conviction in his views. I find it fascinating and admirable that even in the face of losing his friendship with Sebastian, he didn't bow down and agree with Sebastian's methods. Sure, he gets convinced by the MC to let them deal with it. But at the end of the day, Ominis is strictly against the use of the Dark Arts. Furthermore, he does everything to maintain his moral compass despite being surrounded by people (friends and family) who practice and preach about the unforgivable curses.
Also! I'd like to add the conversation I had with @tennoujinerin about Ominis' godly self-restraint. We believe that while most of us admire Ominis for his kindness, temperance, compassion, and commitment to the good cause, he is someone who can easily turn it all around. He is born in a family of pureblood supremacists who have no qualms in utilizing the Dark Arts like it's a daily chore. He most definitely is very, very familiar with Dark Spells that maybe even Sebastian isn't aware of. If pushed to the brink of survival, there's a possibility that Ominis could reconsider his relationship with the Dark Arts. And this wand wood is perfect for that kind of change of heart.
2. Wand Core
For this part, I admit I was stumped for a while. I believe all the three cores that Ollivanders usually has could be a good fit for Ominis for a plethora of different reasons. But it still feels... lacking. Like, something was missing for this special wand to work.
That's why in the end, I think Ominis has two wand cores that were needed to suit his special needs. He needs a core that reflects his personality and another to aid him with his magical abilities. And for that, the cores of his wand are a combination of Unicorn Hair and Horned Serpent Horn.
"Unicorn Hair generally produces the most consistent magic. These wands are the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts. The most faithful wands have unicorn hair, making them bond strongly with their owner. They are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing."
While this core could technically be enough, it just doesn't feel customized enough. We know that his wand emits a red pulse at the tip to help him navigate his surroundings. Therefore, this wand needs another core to bolster its utility.
"Wands made with Horned Serpent Horn are exceptionally power, creating massive spell effects regards of the user's skill. Sensitive to Parseltongue and would vibrate when Parseltounge is being spoken near it, and can warn their owners of danger by emitting a low musical tone. These wands were said to only bond with one user through it's lifetime, but this is only a rumor for now."
These two cores encased in ebony wood make for such a personalized wand. The fact that Horned Serpent Horn core warns its owner about incoming danger is an important factor for Ominis' safety and security. He needs to be alerted for when hexes and spells are being blasted in his way. And as for all serpentine cores, it's also sensitive to Parseltongue.
(Maybe it's just me but I believe that Horned Serpents are the antithesis of Basilisks. Having this creature's horn as Ominis' wand core would be the ultimate and tangible symbol of his rebellion against Salazar Slytherin's secret weapon, that lies in the Chamber of Secrets, and everything his family taught him to uphold).
3. Wand Flexibility and Length
According to the official source:
"Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair."
Because of that, his wand is most likely Rigid. This source had explained it perfectly:
"A wand of this flexibility will only give its complete loyalty to an owner who has faced great personal tragedy. It is particularly good for practical magic use, and thus usually doesn't perform well for magic that is frivolous or silly. Rigid wand owners are cautious and have difficulty trusting others, but they are not usually unkind people. Generally, they prefer to be left alone so that they can do what they want to do, regardless of what anyone else says."
(If you're not a Slytherin in the game, your first interaction with Ominis is surely abrasive and tense. And that's because he truly is cautious, and wants his private spaces to be left alone).
Lastly, this wand is on the longer side, measuring at around 14 inches. He needs a wand that can act like an extension of himself; just like blind muggles need a mobility cane.
TL;DR:
Ebony with Unicorn Hair and Horned Serpent Horn Core, Rigid and 14 inches.
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Phew! 😮‍💨 This post took a very, very long time to make. But I am extremely glad for the assistance, conversations, and opinions of other wonderful people here on Tumblr and Discord! I swear, I love you all.
I want to give love and credit to the following:
@damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog (You're the one who really inspired me to finally get my mind together and put my brain cells to use. I admire your creativity towards your headcanons so much, and I want to share this with you!) 🫡
@tennoujinerin (Our conversations are the highlight of my obsession in this fandom. I love our collaborative thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed this one. See you in the basement! 😈)
@ponfarrdraws (I think my delusions have reached its peak with this long-ass post. But I just have to let out my aggressive emotions about Ominis! I know you get it, and I'm glad I got to know you).
@diligentcranberry (Thank you once again for entertaining my craziness. My OCD is now satiated with these information out in the open. I originally didn't want to post anything about this until you talked to me about the locations. So, thank you!)
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fantastic-nonsense · 4 months
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Is it possible for Jason and Roy to actually be friends? I know RHATO is terrible and I've seen a lot of people say there's no real reason for Jason and Roy to have any sort of friendship and I was just wondering if that's the case?
Technically it's possible for anyone in comics to become friends (or at least be on friendly terms with each other) if the circumstances align the correct way. In the case of Roy and Jason, I think there's two things that people need to understand:
Jason and Roy were canonically on friendly terms prior to Jason's death. Jason had a short stint on the Teen Titans in the mid-80s and all of the Titans—including Roy—were pretty friendly with him. However, Jason and Roy's relationship during that arc is based around the fact that they only know about and interact with each other via their relationships with Dick Grayson. Roy is one of Dick's best friends, and Jason is Dick's younger brother. That directly impacts how they interact.
Roy and Jason are only friends in current canon due to a substantial number of retcons to Roy's life, personality, and friendships. These retcons have made it impossible to treat Roy and Jason's friendship as anything remotely reasonable for either character, because if you have to completely twist a character into something they're not for a friendship with another character to work…there's generally an insurmountable gap there that would be better filled by other people.
Given those two things, there's clearly a theoretical canon path forward for making Jason and Roy friends on their own terms rather than "being friendly to each other because they both love Dick Grayson." It wouldn't be super hard, though I personally struggle to see a lot of connection points for what would realistically make Jason and Roy become friends in the way that New 52 canon wanted to portray them.
The problem is that modern comics did not and still have not put in the work to make that friendship happen in a way that actually makes sense. Instead, they effectively just erased Dick from Roy's life and inserted Jason into it instead. And because the writers of that era (particularly Scott Lobdell, who wrote RHATO) did not actually care about any of the non-Bat characters they were randomly throwing together, that friendship and the circumstances under which it exists are pretty much the Ground Zero reason for why Roy Harper was fucked over so badly in the New 52 and Rebirth eras.
So the general fandom anger around Jason and Roy is less about there being "no reason" for their friendship to exist (though that's also true given how canon has portrayed it) and more about how the canon reasoning given for their friendship has done nothing but hurt Roy as a character. Hope that answers your question?
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bonebrokebuddy · 3 months
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I’ve been seeing a few folks complain about people writing hcs of DC characters with ooc song preferences, which it’s not that serious. But it gives me an excuse to show off my DC character playlists.
I initially created them as I saw a lot of playlists for Bruce & Jason with just a lot of dad rock.
Which, fair. Not everyone’s into metal.
But since I know it’s not an easy genre to get into, if you want inspiration, feel free to check out these playlists!
My one main rule for making playlists is that a majority, if not all, of the songs need to be in a genre I think the character would listen to based on their canon music taste. This is regardless whether or not it’s a genre I like. I try my best to find fun songs regardless of my personal preference.
The Playlists:
Batman: various genres of metal. I tried to go for more Doom Metal(slow & repetitive vs thrash’s blast beats and fast guitar) but there’s more than one genre of metal that’s characterized by slower instrumentals & I can’t keep up with all the names so it varies. Dad metal. Made sure that there was a sprinkle of Black Metal too (mainly bc I think it’s funny. If you’ve never listened to black metal, it sounds like you chucked the vocalist in a grinder at high speeds then proceeded to mix your instruments & your vocals the worst you could possibly make it. It’s nearly incomprehensible and it’s Perfect for Bruce.)
Bruce Wayne: a touch of old school doom metal, a sprinkle of black metal as you can write a Batman story without Bruce Wayne but not a Bruce Wayne story without Batman. A more chill version of the Batman playlist that I think Bruce would jam out to as not everyone’s into metal and I wanted to give people another option that didn’t have as heavy stuff in it.
Tim Drake: Mostly time accurate with 90s-2010’s punk rock & alt rock influences all the way through with a touch of metal to show his connection to Bruce & a few other off genre songs that represent his YJ98 pals. I tried my best to include as many bands as I could find that he canonically enjoyed as well.
Jason Todd: Jason was introduced in the 80s & is a canonical metalhead, so I think he’d listen to a combination of 80s dad metal, death metal (come on, it’s just too perfect of a genre name to pass up), thrash, & a little black metal (the genre I assigned to Batman).
Clark Kent: Dad metal. He canonically listens to Metallica post-crisis so I just gave him my dad’s taste in music lmao. Made sure to add a few satire ones because Clark is an little shit and would very much enjoy satire songs. Unfortunately, I genuinely could not get my Spotify recs to give me decent country music. I tried. It only gave me modern mainstream artists and after a month of trying to find good pre 2000’s country, I just gave up. So it’s mainly metal:(
If any of y’all want to send me 80s-2000’s country recs, that would be very kind of y’all. (the type of country music ma & pa kent would listen to that Clark would have grown up with)
Kon-El: is full of songs that are, well, time accurate to his original run. Ranging from 1969-2002 [the year his solo run was canceled], this playlist not only has songs he could have theoretically picked up in a record shop or blasted on a boom box during the day but is also full of bands he canonically listens to! This playlist is chalk full of Kon’s canonical alt rock & metal music taste as well as rock and proto-metal hits of the time!
Bart Allen: to be clear, Bart wouldn’t listen to any of these as music is just too slow for him. These are songs that relate to Bart or songs that represent his connections to his friends with no specific genre as I didn’t just want to have playlists full of nothing but metal. (Although I think he’d really like metal concerts as he’d probably enjoy the feeling of the heavy base resonate in his chest.)
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nattikay · 4 months
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Made it to the Upper Plains in my new save file! But not before ridding the Kinglor Forest of ALL the RDA bases ayyyyyooooo (well, except for the big level 20 one but hey. I'll come back for that one later...) Now that I know the proper stealthing technique I'm less scared of taking them on than I was in my first playthrough hrh.
Anyways, I've decided that this character's name is Tumune! (stress on "tu" (wiya I keep forgetting that apparently tumblr can't underline)).
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The first thing I somewhat vibed with was "Tumtu" because tun means orange/red and one of her main distinguishing features in my mind compared to my other character was that bright orange cosmetic, buuuut then I decided "Tumtu" on its own wasn't quite what I wanted so I messed around with other syllables a bit and eventually landed on Tumune. Plus it's kind of funny because it sounds like the English word two smushed with the Na'vi word mune which means...well, two, and she's my second character, so. Tumune it is hrh
Still haven't settled on a name for the character from my OG save. Unfortunately for me the sound that I've been vibing with the most for her thus far has been Aleymun, but that's already the name of one of the canon NPCs (in fact, I think my character has her hairstyle equipped lol) and it feels like cheating to steal a name from an existing character (I mean, theoretically it could happen, I'm sure realistically there'd be plenty of Na'vi out there who share names, but still). the vibe is THERE though...hmm. gonna keep thinking...
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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year
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Emergency Contact
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Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader
Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:
Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.
Summary:
After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.
Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.
Word Count: 10,400
Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.
List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).
sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.
mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.
A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.
This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.
...
If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd. 
The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits? 
But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off. 
If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for. 
It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least. 
Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you. 
… 
You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him. 
He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive. 
When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up. 
“Who are your friends?” He asked. 
As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice. 
It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes. 
“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed. 
“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question. 
“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience. 
“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand. 
“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang. 
He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear. 
“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement. 
“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.” 
You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time. 
“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh. 
“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason. 
This left you confused. But you didn’t question it. 
“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained. 
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self. 
“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face. 
“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded. 
Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked. 
“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of. 
Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again. 
“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?” 
It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish. 
Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about. 
“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit. 
It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you. 
“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact. 
“No way.” You scoffed. 
“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.
“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together. 
“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity. 
“I am.” Dick said firmly. 
“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips. 
“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said. 
The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit. 
You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words. 
He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer. 
“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-” 
“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.” 
Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air. 
“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was. 
Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours. 
“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so. 
It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by. 
His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it. 
When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment. 
“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked. 
You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him. 
“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink. 
You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle. 
When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you. 
Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him. 
… 
When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging. 
Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick. 
You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts. 
Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock. 
Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting. 
When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 
You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him. 
You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun. 
When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages. 
You had no clue that you’d end up living together. 
When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall. 
You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional. 
You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean. 
… 
“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.” 
“Shut up.” 
The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended. 
You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments. 
Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him. 
You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words. 
“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes. 
He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies. 
“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.” 
He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words. 
“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.” 
He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face. 
“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.” 
He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail. 
“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?” 
He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear. 
“How many times did you cum thinking about me?” 
“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him. 
“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed. 
Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both. 
In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that. 
… 
You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind. 
It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day. 
The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex. 
Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up. 
You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up. 
… 
It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you. 
When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile. 
You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl. 
“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle. 
“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.” 
You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box. 
“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs. 
You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead. 
“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.” 
You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee. 
“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.” 
Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans. 
“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’” 
It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others. 
“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’” 
But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock. 
But you would never admit that he was right. 
“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won. 
But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that. 
Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you. 
You just glared, and he smirked once more. 
When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done. 
“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed. 
“I know.” You grinned at him. 
He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you. 
… 
Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice. 
Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him. 
But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will. 
When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong. 
You went through the stages of grief like a rocket. 
Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.
Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval? 
Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you? 
Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn. 
And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it. 
So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed. 
You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done. 
And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.  
… 
Hectic. 
That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower. 
Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up. 
Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal. 
But you weren’t truly worried about any of that. 
Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision. 
Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason. 
The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him. 
The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner. 
After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection. 
You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened. 
So you took the leap. 
You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door. 
A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you. 
His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him. 
“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight. 
“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.” 
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. 
He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life. 
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.” 
It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects. 
He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired. 
You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you. 
“You’re hurt.” He said quietly. 
He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself. 
“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own. 
It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair. 
Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt. 
“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you. 
Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now. 
Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over. 
“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.” 
That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury. 
“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence. 
Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you. 
“You need this treated.” He added on. 
No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly. 
“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.” 
“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.” 
The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound. 
“Jason-” 
You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you. 
But of course, he cut you off. 
“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore. 
He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites. 
You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion. 
But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him. 
Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.
“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you. 
He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it. 
“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm. 
It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed. 
You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it. 
But, no dice. 
The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to. 
It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse. 
Jason sighed through his nose. 
“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?” 
Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did. 
You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you. 
When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.
This was quiet, and calm, and gentle. 
When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound. 
His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it. 
“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” 
It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind. 
“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.” 
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you. 
… 
Dick explicitly told you to stay put. 
They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader. 
Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him. 
You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself. 
“Jason!” 
You screamed out his name, you leapt forward. 
Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started. 
Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.) 
Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side. 
At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason. 
His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass. 
You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen. 
Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him. 
Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory. 
“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you. 
You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt. 
Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once. 
“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists. 
The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety. 
Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding. 
Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off. 
… 
You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant. 
“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk. 
It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you. 
It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke. 
You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time. 
“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.” 
It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them. 
You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him. 
Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.” 
There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line. 
‘Maybe I just have to care.’ 
Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it. 
After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable. 
“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.” 
There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning. 
You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze. 
‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’ 
The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely. 
“It’s nothing.” You told him. 
You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from. 
Jason shook his head at this statement. 
He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it. 
When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain. 
After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes. 
“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply. 
You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it. 
Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble. 
Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize. 
There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident. 
Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth. 
“I meant what I said.” You told him. 
At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened. 
He didn’t find any. 
You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound. 
… 
The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could. 
When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street. 
Panic flooded you. 
You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately. 
“Don’t move!” He shouted. 
“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back. 
Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason. 
Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes. 
He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him. 
When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him. 
“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die. 
There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him. 
His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart. 
“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.” 
You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning. 
He thought he was a dead weight to your life. 
“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!” 
You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you. 
“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully. 
You ignored him. 
You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting. 
“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!” 
“You have to let go.”
Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him. 
But of course, you refused. 
“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.” 
As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more. 
Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of. 
He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned. 
So Jason did what he had to do. 
He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip. 
“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-” 
You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself. 
You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely. 
You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground. 
… 
If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him. 
When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat. 
You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it. 
“All done.” He said quietly. 
You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place. 
“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you. 
You felt your heart sink. 
In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there. 
You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave. 
It was something else. 
It had to be something else. 
Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you. 
He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours. 
And now he was trying to back down from that. 
You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.
The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first. 
In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey. 
You were both so vulnerable. 
Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed. 
If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that. 
He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things. 
As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask. 
You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you. 
You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly. 
You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe. 
You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through. 
He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you. 
“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin. 
He knew that it would break him. 
He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him. 
Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought. 
You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you. 
“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was. 
“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat. 
Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you. 
You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible. 
“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.” 
You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back. 
“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.” 
Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen. 
“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips. 
Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once. 
He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body. 
He would never be perfect - but he was yours.
...
Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, so if you saw this fic posted on there, it is my fic. Please do not accusing me of plagiarising fics if you see this, because this is my own fic. This is my new blog. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.
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fivie · 8 months
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I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?
ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔
my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.
I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.
Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol
(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)
Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:
Don't come back to my apartment right now.
Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:
Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.
Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:
Other hunters here.
With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.
Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.
Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.
Enjolras is here, too.
This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.
The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—
"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.
Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.
Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!
"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"
"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."
"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."
"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"
"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.
"What? It's not like we can tell."
"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."
"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.
Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.
"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.
"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"
"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.
"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"
"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."
"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."
"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.
"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."
"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.
"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"
"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."
"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.
Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.
"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"
Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.
"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."
"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.
"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.
"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."
"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"
"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.
"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"
There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."
Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."
"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."
He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.
There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.
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What makes you know hobie is 18 or above? And not the in the same age range as miles and gwen
Honestly, great question. And the answer is:
I Don't Know Jack Shit. So jot that down.
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Additionally, anyone telling you they DO know Jack Shit is a liar. Jot that down too.
[I may go a little Miguel Mode at the end of you know what I mean]
I personally operate under the headcanon that Hobie is over 18.
Why? He says he goes to pubs. You need to be over 18 to do that. The End.
You can headcanon that he has a fake id or simply finds himself in pubs while underage - and that's completely valid. Go ahead. You can headcanon he has a mfing tail. I can't stop you and we haven't seen his ass so maybe he do, who knows.
But my headcanon is just that. And to me - until Hobie's age is clearly displayed and mentioned on screen, then it'll always be a headcanon.
No matter what age you headcanon him as - if you think you KNOW his age, you're probably wrong. And I mean that.
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The ATSV describes him as a 'slightly older boy'. Case closed, right? He's a minor then.
Nah, three lines later they say he's MUCH older than Miles....literally contradicting themselves within the same paragraph.
[And the funny thing is - I've seen the artbook used as evidence in the argument multiple times. Even though it literally contradicts itself. And every single time I'm like 'bruh did you even read the full page come on now'.]
Case in point, if you think you KNOW Hobie's age when 1) it's not stated on screen and 2) even the official external material gives conflicting information - you're just wrong. You can't know a theoretical number. And you can't be wrong about a theoretical number.
It's Schrodinger's age.
Example: A character is shown to be in High School. They live in New Jersey where the driving age is 16. If a fanfic writer has the character say "I can't do that, I can't drive yet.", is the fanfic writer canonically wrong? No. Because the character could reasonably be above OR below the driving age, either 14-18. Even if the director mentions the character having a sweet-16 that is never mentioned in the show, it's not screen-canon and the average viewer will not know the character is definitely over 16. Therefore they can reasonable be 15.
"But the director said-"
Don't care. Not weighted canon unless stated on-screen.
Maybe this is a controversial opinion. But if it's not on screen, I can't say it's canon.
Sure, the director may have said in an outside interview that Hobie's conceptually 19-20 -
But a normal person who goes to see the movie, and comes home to write fanfiction isn't going to know what.
They shouldn't have to dig through all conceptual and external content of a specific character in order to be deemed 'acceptable' and knowledgeable enough to write about them.
A person who watches the movie and writes solely based off of what the movie says about Hobie shouldn't be harassed or told they're wrong because they didn't listen to a podcast of a director who's name they don't even know.
There's no pass that says 'Okay you've done enough research about Hobie to write about him, congrats-'
If it's not in the movie, show, book, etc - a fan should not be required to seek out that information to be caught up to speed. External information is supplemental, not a part of the hole.
Also-
If it's not in the movie - It DOESN'T MATTER.
ATSV is a very well written movie. Every line is used for the purpose of telling the story. Especially Hobie's.
They didn't tell us Hobie's age because it didn't matter to the story. And it shouldn't matter to you.
If the writers didn't care enough to take time out to clarify his age, then it makes no sense to spend take arguing about it.
They obviously don't find it important. Because it isn't. It doesn't matter to the story at all.
Hobie's age doesn't matter to the 'love triangle'. Although the film is narrated by Gwen, we largely see it from Miles' point of view. And the 'love triangle' only exists when Mile has no concept of who Hobie is.
Miles doesn't know Hobie. So him questioning a love triangle happens regardless of whether Hobie is an adult or not. Miles doesn't know, neither do we.
The 'Hobie' in the 'love triangle' is an empty-shell of the mystery of who Hobie COULD be. The moment Hobie takes off the mask and we're revealed to the real him - the illusion of who he could've been is shattered for both us and Miles.
Because his age isn't stated, it has no bearing on Miles' perception of him. Miles don't know shit. Neither do we.
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Also you people should be fucking grateful GODDAMN WTF
If you deadass beef about this you one ungrateful mfer i swear. Take offense. All offense.
We have a black, attractive, educated, useful, respected character in an animated movie that's available for ANY SHIP with ANY character and what do you people do??? - you argue.
Why? Explain to me why.
You should be happy it's up to interpretation and not definitely stated that you were wrong. At any time the creators could just put it in the next movie and make you look stupid.
You could be out there enjoying any ship of your choosing; with any character you enjoy him with - regardless of age. But no, instead of enjoying the ship that's available to you, you antagonize others.
Sit there and eat your mfing salad you INGRATE
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Be grateful we have a character with such free range of shipping. A character that's un-aged and doesn't have a specific gender preference. BE THANKFUL.
You like Gwen x Hobie. Great. You argue with people and harass people who think Hobie's an adult??? - What if Hobie deadass looked in the camera next movie and said "I'm 19 also I'm gay." You'd look dumb as hell.
But they didn't do that. They left it unstated for you to go and enjoy your Hobie x Gwen or Hobie x Miguel or Hobie x whoever the hell.
I'm thankful everyday they didn't say his age because I don't make OCs that go to high school because I'm 24 and hate high school. And guess what, I can do that.
Him and Diane can just hang out on the houseboat all day cause they're grown ass adults with no place to be. Isn't that swell?
Stop playing with me and enjoy the goddamn shipping buffet. Christ almighty
All in all - I don't know shit. You don't know shit. And it's okay to not know shit.
NO UM-AKSCHULLY
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Get comfortable with saying "I'm not the authority on this." or better yet "I don't know shit about nothing."
I love him to death, but I am not the authority on Hobie Brown.
For me - I know he said he goes to pubs and I know I wanted to ship him with Diane. Personality wise, Diane is 19. So Hobie is 19.
But I don't know anything about his age. No one does.
I'm just cute and like to share headcanons. Hobie Brown as of right now doesn't have an age. And that's fine. Cause he ain't real.
If you made it this far ummmmmm Here he is. I'm giving you this photo under the condition that you'll act right and enjoy him in a ship of your choosing if you'd like to do that.
Now lets sit here, and eat this ship salad.
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[me making sure ur enjoying ur shipping salad]
Bye.
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addrianastarflower · 2 months
Text
Theoretically, if Atsushi is the one to go to the Port Mafia, what will happen to his spirit?
As a general rule, Atsushi is kind and yet completely bases his life around what others want of him. How long would he have to be in the port mafia before they become his family and those he searches approval from instead of Dazai and the rest of the agency?
Will he search approval from Akutagawa (more than he has already)?
He’s already rather dependent on what others think of him and blames himself for the events of canon. I can very much see it becoming too much for him, especially if someone actually dies in the current arc, and thus he may need to separate himself from the rest of the agency in order to maintain his sanity.
Additionally, I don’t see him wanting/allowing Dazai or Kyouka to rejoin the mafia, so if given the option I think he’d volunteer for the “greater good”.
Once in the mafia though,
Will he give up on his moral sense in order to make up for the fact that Akutagawa won’t kill until their 6 months are up? Will he kill for the two of them because he will believe it’s the only way for them to survive?
Will he try his best to protect Akutagawa in every way that the other once protected him? Will they still fight, trying their best to (affectionately) kill eachother, or will they finally settle for a truce and work as proper partners?
Will Akutagawa still allow Atsushi use of Rashamon? Will they protect each other because it’s all they can do without Dazai there to protect either of them anymore?
Will they both move on from Dazai’s mentorship and finally begin to depend more on themselves and each other than external validation?
There’s always the tiger to worry about as well, given that she most likely would not be in control as soon as Atsushi left the agency. Would Akutagawa help him through that - teaching him the forceful control of his ability that he only managed to learn through Dazai?
This of course, is dependent on the fact that Akutagawa would be paired with him and Atsushi wouldn’t become Mori’s test subject, but given their relationship that’s a prediction gamble that I’m willing to take.
Character analysis of the day: Day 2
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