#leave him fucked on titanic levels

[faultlinescrew]

Putting a cauldron cape and a 53 on the same, more closely knit team. Let's see how long it takes for the guilt to kill Cheapskate

[that1emowitch]

Bruce, high on painkillers, is being babysat by Jason. Jason has to do an emergency Red Hood thing, and lacking an alternative, slaps a stock domino on Bruce and drags him along.

Bruce proceeds to say/do the most unhinged shit. The goons are suddenly viscerally aware of where Hood got it from.

WOW okay you guys are unhinged, you know that?

(And I love it <3)

A/N: I fully intended to write a crack fic, but the feels crawled in through the plot holes I missed and made their homes in the heart of the story. Also I don't know what you mean by 'stock domino' so I'm assuming it's one of those dollar store ripoffs.

(TW: Accidental overdosing on painkillers, mentions of blood, Jason's usual level of swearing, some goons almost dying but like in a funny way.)

Word Count: 2328

Jason wants to scream.

Like, let it rip out on an abandoned cliff in the howling rain kinda scream.

But no, he's stuck babysitting Brucie Wayne who accidentally OD'd on fucking painkillers after trying to treat himself in Alfred's unfortunate absence (how does that even happen?!).

Dick and Damian are out doing some brotherly-bonding thing, Tim's with the Titans, Duke and Cass are at the movies, and Steph has declared herself "not one of Bruce's kids." Leaving Jason as the only one free to look after their "Dad".

Jason pushes Bruce down on the Batcave's gurney for the billionth time after he attempts (keyword: attempts) to walk again, scowling. None of them are getting any waffles from me again. Or pancakes. Or scones. Or anything I make for them out of my sweet, kind heart. Those little shits.

Jason puts two fingers on Bruce’s wrist, checking his pulse. His skin is cold and clammy, breathing slow, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. He sighs, collapsing on a chair beside Bruce. He's tired. So fucking tired.

Just as Jason's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the Batcomputer's alarm suddenly blares.

Bruce shoots up, shouting, "ALARM!"

Grumbling, Jason drags himself to the computer, pushing Bruce down along the way. He opens the glaring red notification, brows creased.

Black Mask's goons have intercepted some military shipment...

"Ugh..." Jason groans, and moves to put on his helmet (he never changed out of his costume), checking his guns, when a sudden crash from behind him snaps his attention to the man-child he's supposed to be babysitting.

Bruce has stepped off the gurney and collapsed face-down on the med bay's floor.

He can't just leave him there, can he?

Jason considers his options: He could either strap Bruce to the gurney and leave (in which case Dick will have his head), or he could take Bruce out on the streets with him (in which case Dick will absolutely want to murder him.)

Jason smirks. It’s obvious which one’s the right choice.

Ten minutes later, Jason’s riding through the city at over a hundred miles per hour, with Bruce strapped to the backseat of his motorcycle. Bruce is wearing a dollar store ripoff of the Robin domino and a Robin-themed cape made of Tim’s bedsheets, looking absolutely ecstatic at the high speed.

They arrive at the warehouse where Black Mask’s goons have transported their stolen goods, parking in a shadowed spot a building away. Jason gets off, helping Bruce onto his feet, and says, “Now, I’m going to go shoot some people, you stay hidden and quiet, got that?”

“Guns are bad,” Bruce replies, holding a finger to Jason’s helmet. “Just like clowns. And ducks.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

Jason quickly scales the nearest building, grappling to the roof of the warehouse. He peeks in through a hatch in the roof to survey the area. There are about a dozen armed goons, none of them looking very bright. There are 4 crates they’re guarding, likely filled with ammo.

Cocking his guns, Jason jumps down through the hatch, landing right in the middle of the warehouse with a ‘thud’ sound. “Surprise,” He grins, raising his guns.

“Aye, that’s Red Hood, ain’t it?” Comes a goon’s terrified voice. The others around him immediately aim their guns at Jason— they’re clearly untrained.

Suddenly there’s another thud behind him. “That’s a bucket, you morons!” Comes a too-familiar, slurred voice. Jason turns around to come face-to-face with Bruce, eyes wide. 

In a fight with any real criminals, this distraction would have cost Jason his life. But luckily these adorably clueless goons are just as shocked as him.

Unfortunately the distraction only lasts for a few seconds. Jason immediately jumps into the fight, shooting three goons in the kneecaps and dodging a few bullets. From the corner of his eye, he sees two more goons running out the door, crying. He punches another guy in the face, instantly knocking him out, and is about to turn back to check on Bruce when suddenly something hard collides with his skull.

Jason staggers slightly, trying to regain his balance, when he sees a goon holding a giant stone, wearing a proud grin.

Fuck, his helmet’s probably busted…

Then suddenly Bruce is running towards the goon, hands fisted and veins popping, screaming, “NO ONE HURTS MY SON!”

Then Bruce’s fist collides with the goon’s with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the floor as the man crumples to the ground. Bruce doesn’t stop there, and continues to beat him up, yelling profanities.

It warms Jason’s cold, (un)dead heart to watch that— to see his Dad fighting for him. It’s like they say, you’re most truthful when you’re drunk— or high. This is how much Bruce loves him.

Then another thought strikes him— Bruce is going to regret being this violent when he sobers up. It’s going to claw at him, tear him up, and he’s going to compartmentalize and end up punishing himself by overworking.

Jason rushes forward, pulling Bruce off of the man. “B— Robin, stop!” He shouted, looking into the man’s domino-covered eyes.

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Robin?”

Jason points to Bruce’s Robin-themed cape and stock domino.

“Ah.” Bruce nods, pulling away. “You okay? Did you see any duck?”

“Duck?” Jason pauses in confusion. But before he can question it farther, he spies the three remaining goons using a ladder to climb up through the roof of the warehouse, trying to escape.

“Stay here. And do not move.” Jason orders Bruce, and runs after them.

He makes his way up the ladder as fast as he can , exiting under the polluted night sky. The goons, the ridiculously stupid goons, are standing around the edge of the roof, trying to figure out how they’re going to get down.

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this ridiculous shit.

Actually, scratch that, he doesn’t get paid at all.

“Wow, you guys are pathetic,” Comes Red Hood’s robotic voice, startling the goons, and one of them accidentally topples over the edge, screaming. Jason ensures that the guy’s hanging on tight— he can wait.

He cocks his guns, aiming both at the two standing goons. Both men are trembling with fear, hands up in surrender. “Hood— Mr. Hood, please—” One of them squeaks, but one look from Jason shuts him up.

“Please. Mr. Hood was my father,” Jason quips, his robotic chuckle sounding sinister. 

That’s when he hears another voice behind him (again)— “But I’m your father.”

Jason jumps, whipping around. “How did you— I didn’t even hear you come!”

Bruce just shrugs innocently, waving his bloodstained hands at the terrified goons.

Then Jason hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. From the corner of his eye he sees the bolder of the goons, the one that had spoken before, taking aim.

“DUCK!” He yells, falling out of the way.

Instead of dodging, Bruce falls into a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Where?!”

The bullet barely misses Bruce’s ear as he turns his head.

Jason has had it with sky-high Bruce now. Annoyance rising, he quickly shoots the two goons in the kneecaps, forgetting about the one hanging off the edge, and stalks up to Bruce, glaring.

“What is up with you and ducks?!” He demands, his voice raised.

“Ducks are evil,” Bruce spits, nose wrinkled. “Just like clowns. And bats.”

Jason’s brows raise. “Bats are evil?”

“Yeah, duh, that’s why everyone’s scared of Batman.” Bruce rolls his eyes, his drawl sounding too much like Steph. “Bats are scary.”

“You really took ‘become what you fear’ too literally, huh?” Jason snorts, putting his guns back in their holsters. Then he takes off his helmet, checking the damage— just a slight crack at the back. Not too bad.

“You know, I fell into a hole and into a cave when I was a boy and a dozen bats attacked me. I nearly died.” Bruce continues, gesturing towards the air with his hands. 

“Yeah, right.” Jason shakes his head, chuckling. “Now come on, we gotta get you back.”

That’s when another voice rings out, high-pitched and scared. “Um, Mr. Hood? Please HELP! Please, please, please—”

Jason’s attention snaps to the corner of the roof— ah, right, the goon’s still hanging off the edge, isn’t he?

He grumbles, making his way over, and squats above the man, shaking his head. The man below him looks like he’s pissed himself, face ashen, tears running down his cheeks, muttering, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…” On repeat.

“I’ll pull you up on one condition,” Jason looks down at him, voice low. “Never become a gun for hire again. If I see you fighting on the streets…” He pulls out his gun.

“No, no, I won’t, I swear…” The man whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Jason sighs, and grabs the man by the collar and hauls him up. He crumples onto the roof, curling into a ball.

“Take out your phone and dial 911, tell them you’ve been naughty,” Jason orders, his gun pointed at the man’s head. (What? A guy needs to have some fun.)

The man whines, and immediately obliges.

“Pathetic,” Jason ties the man up quickly, and makes his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the floor of the roof, taking apart some random crushed handphone he’s found.

“Get up, old man. GCPD will be here soon. We’re going home.” He pulls Bruce up, ignoring how he longingly stares at the dismantled phone.

The two of them grapple down from the roof, landing safely on the pavement. As they walk towards his bike, Bruce says, “Did you know I ate a phone once?”

Jason stumbles slightly. “What?”

“Tasted nice. Like electricity. Crackle-y.” Bruce hummed, his face straight (as straight as someone dating Superman could be). He isn't kidding.

That, or he's delusional.

“Don't try it. You might turn into a computer or something.” Bruce nodded very seriously.

“Oh god,” Jason snorts. “I'm so glad my helmet’s recording all this. Perfect blackmail material.”

“Black's a very, very pretty color.”

Jason rolls his eyes, revving the motor, making sure Bruce is safely strapped onto the backseat behind him. “You're just emo.”

“What's emo?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, words slightly slurred.

“Y'know, when people wear all that black makeup, skinny jeans, with hair covering their eyes.” Jason explains, putting a spare helmet on Bruce's head. “And listen to, like, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. The Emo Trinity.”

“Oh, oh!” Bruce's eyes sparkle. “Dickie used to do that! He went to a My Chemmy concert once, but he didn't want me coming along.” He pouts.

Jason thinks of all the times Gerard Way has shoved a mic down his throat and grabbed his junk. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Then he turns around to look Bruce in the eye. “But, Golden Boy was emo? Seriously?”

Bruce just smiles and nods, saying, “Now go.”

“Going,” Jason smirks and speeds down the streets of Gotham city, not slowing down until their surroundings change from shitty apartment buildings and broken street lights to the eerie quiet of Bristol. He can see the Manor in the distance when he takes a hidden turn, straight down the road that leads to the Batcave. 

He pulls into the underground ‘garage’ section of the Cave, parking his bike before helping Bruce off. As he removes Bruce’s ripoff domino and “cape”, he says sternly, “Now, you tell no one of what we did today, got that? Not a soul.”

Bruce just flashes a thumbs-up and smiles in the most un-Bruce-like way possible. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“And even if you remember this once you sober up you won’t talk, because you swore on your soul not to tell.”

“Mhm. Kay.”

“Good.” Jason smiles slightly, helping Bruce back to the gurney, making him lie down. He checks him over for any symptoms that the painkiller overdose is making his health worse. His skin’s still cold and clammy, but his breathing’s more steady. His pupils aren’t as small anymore, and he’s way more responsive than he was an hour ago.

Huh. Maybe all he really needed was some exercise.

Jason sits down beside his father, taking a deep breath. “Hey, uh… Did you really mean that, back there? That… That I’m your son?”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Yes, who else’s son would you be? Superman’s?”

A short laugh escapes Jason. He moves closer to Bruce, lying down so his head is resting beside the older man’s. “I just…” He sighs, unable to form the right words. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but… I love you, Dad.”

“Aww, Jaybird…” Bruce’s hand moves sluggishly to cradle Jason. “I love you so much more than you could ever imagine.”

A small smile plays on Jason’s lips as he closes his eyes, leaning into his Dad’s touch. Maybe… maybe babysitting a high Bruce isn’t so bad.

[BONUS!!!]

Dick walks into the infirmary nearly an hour later with Damian trailing behind him, intending to check up on Bruce. He’s been ringing Jason’s phone for a while now, but he hasn’t been picking up. And… Honestly, Dick’s getting worried.

“Tt. I knew we shouldn’t have left Father’s safety in the hands of an incompetent fool such as Todd,” Damian frowns, scowling.

“No, no, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Dick tries to reassure his baby brother, but he picks up his pace. “I mean, we both know what Jason’s like. One moment he’s nice, one moment he’s—”

His voice trails off as he sees Jason sitting on a chair beside Bruce, who’s on the gurney— both asleep, with Jason’s head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce cradling him.

“Aww, Little Wing…” Dick smiles, pausing. Even Damian freezes behind him. Dick steers him away, back into the main house, so as to not disturb the sleeping pair. “Yeah, they’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

[phoenixkaptain]

My favourite part of Dick Grayson as a character is that he is never afraid of Bruce.

Like, Jason has his fear of disappointing him, Tim is a bit intimidated and has his hero worship, Damian fears that Bruce’ll kick him out the way he thinks Talia did, but Dick?

Dick is so unconcerned about Bruce at every possible moment. Even the earliest comics had Dick calling Bruce lame to his face. Dick works with Bruce and his partner for years and they understand each other on a deep level and Dick multiple times calls Bruce a fucking square.

Dick does not tell Bruce anything. He does not write home. If Bruce wasn’t in the room with him when Dick got called to go somewhere, I’m pretty sure Dick would not have informed Bruce that he was even leaving, let alone where he was going. The Teen Titans joined the Peace Corps, they were in Washington for at least a few days being trained, and Bruce finds out that Robin joined the Peace Corps from a newspaper. Dick does not tell him anything.

Dick and Bruce have such a fascinating relationship to me because Dick really doesn’t treat Bruce as his dad so much as he treats him like a particularly obnoxious older brother. Bruce treats Dick like his little baby bird who he cares about and doesn’t want to get hurt, but Dick is over there like “ugh, Bruce is so overdramatic” while he nearly drowns for the fifth time.

In early Teen Titans, there’s no question that Robin is physically the weakest member. Aqualad and Wonder Girl both have super strength, Kid Flash’s speed means that he doesn’t need super strength, but Robin is by far the easiest to capture. He gets caught very consistently through the early issues, albeit people can only catch him if they take him off guard, but it’s a lot easier to catch him off guard in early comics. Robin is the brains of the group, the others look to him for direction and depend on him to make plans that will work and panic when Robin gets nabbed because what will they do without Robin??

Robin gets captured a lot in early Batman comics too. Robin is the ultimate damsel, but he’s never really in very much distress? Like, Bruce and the Teen Titans are distressed, but Robin just looks maybe a bit surprised and bored. Robin never seems to take his own mortality into account when he does things, meanwhile literally everyone else does.

Dick only ever really gets annoyed with Bruce. He bever gets mad at his teammates, even when they question his ability. For the most part, Dick doesn’t even respond when they underestimate him to his face. I have no idea what’s going on in Dick’s head, but he isn’t a part of Aqualad and Kid Flash finding each other and him annoying in their first team ups and he never gets upset when they don’t believe in him.

Then, on the other hand, Bruce calls the music Dick is listening to noise, and Dick immediately is annoyed. Dick and Bruce having a turbulent relationship is more apparent later on in the comics, but Bruce is truly the only one in all the galaxies who gets under Dick’s skin as much as he does.

And it’s funny because fandom likes to paint Dick as bitter that Bruce didn’t adopt him, while I think Dick would have blown his top if Bruce even tried to adopt him. Dick had parents, he never views Bruce as a parental figure. Don’t get me wrong, Dick loves Bruce. Bruce does so much for Dick and Bruce is protective of him and Bruce is open about his affection, but Dick just doesn’t view him as his father.

I really think Dick views Bruce as more like a guard dog than a father. He talks so casually to Bruce, but he’s more formal to other adults. He complains about Bruce not trusting him, but doesn’t care when his teammates don’t trust him either. He views the rich billionaire vigilante who can take down a god in a fight as fucking lame.

Their relationship is amazing. They get along great. They’re a perfect duo, they work in tandem, they’re absolutely unstoppable together. If Bruce talks too much Dick will roll his eyes. They trust each other with their life. Dick is never telling Bruce anything. Bruce says “I guess I can spare Robin for a minute” and Dick is like “I would be perfectly content to never return home for the rest of my days.”

Of all the Robins, Dick is absolutely the one who respects Bruce the least. He loves the guy, but he just canNOT take him seriously.

(Do you think it was the time Bruce sent a box of bats to someone? Or the times Bruce gets captured and has to be rescued by his damsel side-kick? Or the way Bruce is like an overprotective mother, coming this close to reminding Robin to wash behind his ears? Or the way Bruce lets Robin say whatever he wants and never gets upset or offended or even hurt?

Or, maybe, Batman tripped on his cape once, and Dick just can never forget.)

[spidernuggets]

What about reader was a street kid that somehow ended up under hanks wing, she thinks of hank as a big brother, she ends up going to titans tower with hank and dawn, Jason thinks shes so cool and really likes her but idiot titans jason decides the best way to go about his feelings is to be a bit of a douchebag and to show off, Hank picks up what he's doing and literally lifts him off the ground with one hand and is like leave my sister alone, and then Jason's like oh shit your sister!? Basically just something silly and fun and also I bloody love hank and dawn so I had to include them ♡

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

"Leave my sister alone, Todd."

Hank was walking through an alley, a shortcut on the way to a fast food place to meet up with Dawn, when he heard something hit the dumpsters. His fists clench, ready to fight whatever may cause harm.

What he didn't expect was a teenage girl with a pipe in her hands.

Without thinking, Hank took a couple steps closer. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt- OW, what the fuck!" He yelled, grabbing his head that you hit harshly with the pipe.

"Oh, my god, I'm sorry!" You exclaimed, not giving him the chance to finish his sentence, stating that he meant no danger to you. "I thought you were gonna stab me or something!" You jog up to him, supporting him by the shoulders, checking for any blood.

"No, no, my fault. Some big, scary, man stranger walking through an alley in the middle of the night isn't the most safest thing to walk across." He groans. He inseocts you for a few seconds, noticing the dirt and filth all over your clothes, and scratch marks around your face.

"Hey, kid, you live around here? Why are you even out so late?" Hank asks, regaining his posture.

"It's Y/n, firstly, not kid. And restaurants throw out some good food at the end of the day. I was just dumpster diving," you say casually, as if it was the norm. "And, yes and no? I live around here, but.. uhh, no permanent house."

Hank mentally groans. The last thing he wanted was to become like Dick, and taking in "strays" was one of Dick's main attributes. But you didn't have shelter, and you were eating food out of the dumpster.

"Hey, listen, I know I'm still big, scary man stranger, but I'm meeting up with my girlfriend at BatBurgers. How about we get you something to eat that doesn't have the possibility of getting you any diseases?" He offers.

You think for a moment. You had nothing to lose. Sure, this man might actually kidnap you, OR you might get a fresh, hot meal for the first time in a long while.

"Lead the way, mister," you say.

"You can call me Hank, kid," he smiles, walking the rest of the way to the diner.

"Oh, and who's this?" Dawn asks, crouching slightly to meet you at eye level.

"This is Y/n. She'll be joining us," Hank states as he opens the door. "Go on in," he says to you, nodding his head in.

The way you bounced in excitement had Hank smiling. "New friend?" Dawn asks, mirroring his grin.

"You can say so."

Hank and Dawn's talking was half tuned out, stuffing your face with a burger and fries. The couple had no judgement, acknowledging that it could've been a minute since you've eaten properly.

"I'll go to the bathroom," Dawn whispers to Hank as she shuffles out of the booth.

"She's the girlfriend?" You whisper, leaning forward to Hank, who was sat in front of you.

"Yeah, she is. She's Dawn." Hank replies

You nod, taking another bite of the burger. "She's pretty," you claim, voice muffled through the meat and cheese stuffed in your mouth.

"Alright, listen, real talk." Hank begins, gaining your attention. "You obviously weren't listening. So... Me and Dawn were thinking... how about you come stay with us. You clearly need a place to stay, a shower, food. We got what you need."

"Are you guys those Hawk and Dove people?" You ignore his new offer as his eyes widen.

"Wha-" He clears his throat. "No, no, no. We're not." He stammers, looking around the empty diner, seeing if anyone had heard you.

"We're not what?" Dawn asks, returning from the toilet.

"Dawn, tell her we are NOT Hawk and Dove," Hank says through gritted teeth.

Dawn turns to you. "Where'd you get that idea?" She says out of impressed curiosity.

You shrugged, sipping on your cola. "Hank and Dawn. Hawk and Dove. Sounds real similar. Plus he's not great at hiding the fact," you state nonchalantly while pointing at Hank.

"Plus, you guys are offering me a home. Better knowing you guys are superheroes rather than junkies trying to sell me through the black market, right?"

Hank and Dawn share a known look. "Alright, kid. We're only admitting this so you have a place to stay without any second thoughts in regard to your safety." Hank says, pointing back at you.

You shrug once more. "Then I guess I'm staying with you two. A shelter and supes to protect me? Double win," you crack a smile.

So, Hank and Dawn welcomed you into their home and into their lives. Though it was mostly Hank taking the wheel in this newfound relationship. Exceot for clothes shopping. That was Dawn's expertise.

But since you already knew both their secret identities, Hank wanted to train you in combat and stealth, wanting you to be able to protect yourself when you're home alone while the couple was out.

The longer you stayed with Hank, though, the more you saw him as family. As an older brother. And he can't lie, even though he hasn't known you for long, he likes to think of you as a little sister.

"Hey, kid, listen," Hank chimes, walking into the living room and taking a seat next to you on the couch while Dawn is perched on the arm rest beside him. It's almost been a year since you've stayed with Hank and Dawn, and you don't think life could get any better. "Me and Dawn have been thinking-"

"Uh oh, that's never a good sign," you joke with a snarky smirk.

"Hush, anyways. You've been getting so good at your training. We think that you would be a great contribution to... the Titans?" Hank says unsurely, not knowing how you'd react. "I called up Dick, telling him that we got a badass girl under our wing. Asked him to give you a shot. What do you think?"

After a few seconds of disbelief and processing, you spring up from the couch. "HOLY SHIT!" You exclaim. "A slot in the Titans, are you serious?!" A wide grin stretches along your face, hurting your cheeks.

"You can even get your own room there so you're never alone when me and Hank are out," Dawn smiles.

You pause. "But I like staying with the two of you."

Your little confession makes the couple's heart melt.

"Sis, we're still gonna be there with you around the tower. It's just gonna be a different change of scenery," Hank assures.

You take a breath. "So, when do we go?"

Upon arrival, you're close behind Hank, lightly grabbing onto his shirt while he leads the way. "What if they think I'm lame?" You ask nervously.

Hank laughs and looks down behind him. "They won't. Everyone's nice. Well.. except for that asshole, Jason."

"Hank," Dawn calls out, giving him a look that tells him to drop the attitude.

Before you can ask more about this apparent asshole, the elevator doors open, and you hide directly behind Hank's large frame. Everyone was already waiting for your arrival.

"Guy, this is Y/n- Y/n, would you get-" Hank grabs your shoulder, pushing you in front of him.

"Hi.." You queitly say while awkwardly waving towards the group.

"Hey, I'm Jason," a boy with loose and wild curls with a grin comes walking out to you, holding his hand out.

You completely forget about Hank's previous statement, already enchanted by the boy while shaking his hand.

"Nope." Hank says, lightly pushing Jason's shoulder, backing him away from you.

"Aw, come on, Hank, you know I'm not so bad." Jason smiles, feigning innocence.

Hank pushes you, determined for you to meet the rest of the group who isn't Jason.

Dick and Hank show you to your new room. While Dick returns to the others, Hank helps you unpack your little belongings.

Suddenly, you couldn't help but go up to Hank and give him a tight hug, taking him by surprise.

"Wow, okay, what's this, kid?" Hank says, an arm around your shoulders and hand protectively placed on your head.

"Just a thanks. For everything. You and Dawn did a lot for me. You're a great brother," you admit. Hank smiles, rubbing your back, telling you it's not a big deal.

Dick leads you to the training room, where Gar, Rachel,and Jason were already at. The three of them were sparring blindfolded, which shook you a lot, knowing that you were probably nowhere near that level of training yet. Sure, Hank has taught you the importance of losing senses while fighting and taught you how to fight without those senses, but still. When you see others doing it, you begin to rethink your training.

But Jason caught your eye once more. He seemed so flawless at this. Like he was born,with that kind of talent and skill.

"Alright, guys, wrap it up," Dick says.

"Aw, man, I was just about to beat these two losers!" Jason says, immediately shutting up after he sees you once he takes his blindfold off.

Gar lightly hits Jason with his wooden sword playfully while Jason just smiles.

"Gar," Dick calls out. "Spar with Y/n for a bit. We need to see what we're working with."

"Why can't I train with her?" Jason asks, a little annoyed as he wanted to get to know you better.

"Because Dick knows you'll cry about it if she beats you," Rachel mutters, Jason flipping her off.

"Gar knows when to hold back, Jason. Sit down," Hanks says, crossing his arms. "Let them do it blindfolded," he suggests as you and Dick look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

You chuckle awkwardly. "Aha.. no, no. No, no. That's not necessary. I will suck ass if I-"

"Blindfolded," Hank interrupts. He knows that you're underestimating yourself and that you're more capable than you realise.

"Blindfolded it is," Dick mutters, handing you a blindfold.

You take a breath, you and Gar getting into a stance, preparing yourselves. There were no weapons for this. Which is fine by you. You were always good at talking with your fists.

"Go!" Dick yells.

Gar charged forward, ready to attack. But you stayed where you were.

Listen, then go. You thought to yourself. With every step, every breath, every breeze that moved with his body, you can hear Gar's movement. Just as he was about to go in for a punch, you block him. You grab his arm, twisted it, then threw him over your shoulder.

Gar groaned on the floor, removing his blindfold. You removed yours slowly, staring at the green hair boy below you.

You turn to the others who were surprised at the sudden turn, except Hank, who had a cocky grin on his face. "Did... I do it right?" You quietly ask.

A small smile slowly formed across Dick's face. "Welcome to the Titans."

Dick had to pull Hank out of the training room, telling him that you're in good hands with the other three. But Hank didn't trust Jason. So Dick promised they'll just be in the other room. If things go south, he'll be quick to come to your safety.

"So, you wanna train with me?" Jason immediately asks you once Hank leaves the room. Gar and Rachel give each other a look, knowing that Jason is already down bad for you.

You take a step back, feeling a tad bit intimidated, especially after seeing how skilled he was. "I.. I don't know. I think you're too advanced for me."

Saying that this made Jason's ego sky rocket is an understatement.

"Ah, come on, babe. I'll go easy, trust me. I'll even teach ya how to improve," he offers, his hands resting on his hips.

Your face slightly flushed at the sudden nickname. You cleared your throat. "Yeah, okay."

Jason stretches his arms out, pointing to his chest. "Alright, go on, take a jab at me."

Going in for the punch, Jason steps to the side, avoiding the strike, grabbing your arm, pinning you to the ground, and holding your arm behind your back.

"Alright, alright. So you actually need to- hey, what the fuck! Put me down!" Just as Jason explains where you went wrong, his feet were dangling a few centimetres off the ground.

"Leave my sister alone, Todd," Hank growls, holding Jason in the air by his collar.

"Hank!" You yell, sitting up.

"Shit, that's your sister?" Jason asks, looking back and forth from you and Hank while Rachel takes her phone out to take a pic of the moment. "She single?" He boldly asks while your face heats up as he sends you a wink.

Hank was about to waste no time punching Jason in the face, when Dick walks in, telling him to put Jason down. It takes Hank a few moments and a couple of glares to comply.

"Stay away from her," he threatens one last time before taling you by the arm, pulling you out of the room.

But that was a before you sent Jason a smile and a wave goodbye, and he returned the smile and a nod of his head.

The two of you know that Jason is definitely not going to leave you alone during your stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

soz, anon, there's less jason interaction than i anticipated 💔💔 still, hope you enjoy it 🥳🥳

[sepublic]

            I’ve already brought up how the loss of glyphs is deeply tragic for Luz on an interpersonal level, given her relationship with the Titan as being kinda found family in a spiritual successor to Manny sorta way…

            But on a larger, cultural level? It’s straight-up genocide. Because glyphs were an ancient practice; They were a tradition at one point, as Eda explains. The earliest witches used to learn glyphs from the Titan on her knee, and eventually stopped when that became redundant with the more convenient source of their bile sacs.

            But it was still an important part of their history; It was how witches and demons first communicated and interacted with the land and nature, and their ‘god’ in a mutualistic way. It was how they respected their world.

            So even if glyphs were evidently forgotten by the Deadwardian Era, they were still available for those who needed them… And in comes fucking Philip, the racist colonizer, and because of his possession of the Titan’s heart, she finally dies and glyphs can no longer work. They’re obsolete now.

            They still happened, but now that part of magic, of history and this world, is gone forever. It’s cultural erasure, it’s what Luz alludes to when she mentions how scars from Belos’ reign still remain, like the left arm being permanently shifted upwards; Who knows how many were displaced, how much the local flora and fauna and ecosystems were devastated, with the desert of Palm Stings now colder than even the knee itself?!?

            It’s just so deeply painful because Luz really helped to bring back an ancient, lost tradition and unlike Philip, breathed new life into it; Glyphs could be used to help people without bile sacs, who didn’t utilize spell circles as well. We actually saw Luz experiment with using individual glyphs, and figure out the combos; Things she did on her own. She shared knowledge of glyphs with her loved ones, like Eda, King, Lilith, Gus, Amity, etc.

            There really was going to be a return of something lost, but now it’s gone forever because of a bigoted old white man who was too bitter about things that are different and needed to feel big and important by standing on the shoulders of others. It’s cultural genocide. That memory where Belos' destructive lies about wild magic drive witches away from the knee that they still had the potential to learn from, leaving behind only ruins in the present-day? With some murdered via the coven sigils that cut them even further off from their own magic they forgot glyphs for? It's truly symbolic of the final nails in the coffin.

            And it’s also desecration of the dead, too; Caleb is not the only one to have had his corpse bastardized by Belos, misused against everything he stood for. Belos also misused that corpse, first by stealing the Titan’s name, then misusing her magic, her resources such as Palistrom wood… And finally possessing that body literally, which is what murders the Titan. It’s like colonizers bastardizing and salting the land that locals carefully maintained a proper relationship with, and keep in mind this fucker is a literal Puritan colonist. There’s no respect, not for the dead and/or past. Compare that to Luz, who lives on in Manny’s memory and makes him proud.

            I’m just imagining Caleb and the Titan watching, in agony, as their bodies are used to create a vicious mockery towards their actual kin, who remain totally unaware, and in the case of the Grimwalkers, it’s another lineage that is also abused. Meanwhile the Clawthornes remain unknowing of their past because colonialism erases history, hence Belos hiring Flora, and hell even getting Lilith to participate in her own historical erasure, as both Clawthorne and witch!

            Meanwhile, King remains oblivious and unconnected to his own heritage. And most of that can also be attributed to the Titan Trappers and Archivists, themselves perpretrators of genocide. So King and Eda go without knowing their heritage for so long, in Eda’s case she may never find out entirely, because it’s part of the many voices who are lost and silenced due to genocide, buried in the past to be forgotten.

            And you know one thing more that fucks me up? It’s that I genuinely suspect that Philip initially had it easier with glyphs than Luz, and that he made them more difficult for her. Because based on his dialogue by finding the Ice glyph in a snowflake, and his diary and memory portraits showing him arriving in the isles via Eclipse Lake, at the Knee…

            Philip was probably shown his first spell on his first day in the Demon Realm. And it makes sense; The first human, the precedent that the Titan would’ve known by this point, was Caleb; Himself Philip’s brother, who was also raised to be a witch hunter, yet learned better. We know people can view both worlds from that in-between realm, but the Titan still isn’t omnipotent and can only watch through a limited number of cubes at a time, while having to know what and who to look for.

            But even so; With Caleb’s precedent, there could’ve been hope that Philip would follow in his footsteps, that he would learn and be more, and actually choose to be better instead of defaulting to Puritan predestination and the like as an excuse to stay the same and absolve him of responsiability. But we know what happened; Philip started off easy, but then made things difficult by rejecting the Titan’s compassion, by misusing her magic for evil and murder and genocide. The Titan showed Philip compassion first and this was how he responded.

            I really feel as if there’s an implicit reluctance with how Luz is taught glyphs, one at a time, in separate scenarios, usually as a result of character development and/or engaging with the world around her, which are things the Titan would really need to see to start trusting another human again (and if he knew Luz gave Philip the last glyph, that would also add to the wariness that Belos caused by manipulating her). Luz didn’t learn her first spell until a few days into her journey, and Luz had already had a few perilous encounters by that point! But she continued to brave her way through everything, continued to accept the isles and its messier side.

            And so the Titan showed Luz her first spell, and only that, in response to Luz needing it, wanting to learn magic, and most of all humbling herself to be kind to the Titan’s own son, and listen to him; Because neglecting King was what low-key led to Eda’s transformation placing everyone in danger, since he only told Luz about the elixir and agreed to steal it for the sake of getting her attention.

            So that makes Luz listening to the Titan for the first time, intentionally, with her second spell –Ice, Philip’s first- so much more hard-hitting. The way she wanted to live out her dream so she went for the wand behind people’s backs, but then recognized and owned up to her mistakes. And she really was just a lonely kid in need of guidance, and not a stubborn adult committed to his cruelty; Luz always had an open mind! She always wanted to learn!

            And she got to! She learned each glyph at a time… And that’s all the Titan could do for her, something the Titan had already done for so many others, long ago, before they realized they had bile sacs and didn’t need to rely on the land around them as much. Luz still experimented even when she just had one glyph; She understood how intent mattered. She and Lilith built off of each other’s knowledge to collaborate and create combos. Meanwhile Belos, he agonized because he made things pointlessly difficult by refusing to adapt to the ways of another land, and only got his first and last glyphs by taking the compassion of someone who knew them and betraying it.

            Plus there’s what I said about Lilith, her whole thing as Caleb’s descendant, directly abused by Belos and belittled by him, made to participate in her own erasure loss of past, separated from that… Really, one could argue the Clawthornes are like the Boiling Isles equivalent to the Irish; Yeah they're white but that doesn't mean they aren't victims of British colonialism that sought to 'conquer the land' and all that.

The Clawthornes are generally known for big orange hair, with Lilith's curly hair being straightened and dyed dark-blue in an attempt to assimilate within the Emperor's Coven's (AKA Philip's) standards of conformity. They worked with the land via the Palistrom carving and began to lose that because of the trees being endangered by Belos' gluttony, as well as the curse disabling Dell; The very curse created by the Archivists, who also invaded this world, the very curse cast by Lilith because the coven system influenced her to feel shame over wild magic and embrace hierarchy instead.

The curse leads to Eda's loss of bile magic, something very important to her and witches in general, and Lilith loses her own trying to mitigate her own mistakes. So not just glyphs are taken from witches, but even their own bile magic they initially replaced them with, and the other resources of the land. And Lilith is cut off from her family, her real family, as she's taken in by an ancestor who has deliberately distanced himself and loathes her on multiple levels as something to be 'fixed'.

But Lilith gets her hair back and re-embraces it, she gets her family back. She still manages to somewhat retain her past; After all, Lilith gets to go to the Deadwardian Era herself! And she meets, as much as it loathes anyone to acknowledge it, an ancestor, and influences history in a subtle yet personally meaningful way. And Lilith helps re-establish contact with the lost practice of glyphs by figuring out how to combine them, which goes hand in hand with her passion of being a historian, and her additional function as both parallel and especially foil to Philip.

             Just… Luz and the Titan. And Caleb. And Lilith. There’s dead people and there’s history and there’s land, there’s bodies and respect. There’s compassion and actually working with people and finding no shame in that, instead of stealing and taking credit. And in the end, even though they manage to regain some things, a lot was still inevitably lost to genocide, and possibly gone forever.

            But the effects and legacy still linger, Luz still remembers and holds dear what the glyphs did; And she honors not just Manny’s legacy, but Caleb’s, by bridging the gap between humanity and witches, and showing both can co-exist in harmony. She helped his descendants, and even the last Grimwalker, find happiness and reconnect with their heritage, even if they don’t know just how close it is to them in particular. Luz honored the Titan by clearing his name, finding his son, and ensuring the last of the Titans is no longer alone and in understanding of his heritage. Luz even made amends with the Titan’s other greatest regret, harming the Collector, by making peace; And she proved glyphs were still useful, they were still kind, and that compassion wasn’t wasted.

            So even if the Titan’s glyphs are gone now, Luz still honored their memory by sharing them freely and helping, teaching, cultivating. The Clawthornes are rebuilding the Palistrom forests, among them is Hunter who as a Grimwalker was one of the purposes for which Belos devastated those natural resources for. And King… King is beginning to develop his own glyphs! And Luz is learning her first one, Light, from a Titan all over again, because she showed King kindness.

            That honors the Titan’s memory by keeping it alive through her son; Who keeps the memory of glyphs alive through the ones he’ll sustain and share with everyone else, and those glyphs will spread to those without and even with bile sacs. And a lost art is brought back, irreversibly different but still intact in the important ways. People are relearning old practices to apply to a new world, because the past is gone but it still lingers and is simply… reborn. Despite the scars and changes it survives and is still itself.

            And with how all of this loops back to Luz’s relationship with her father Manny, who passed away, and how all that was based on Dana’s own relationship with her deceased father, who left her a final gift in Pokemon Red that she chose to cherish to this day, and embrace her own creativity and keep it alive. It’s a story about things dying but still managing to live anyway.

[yandereteentitans]

Save Your Life

Summary: You save Robin, only because you don't want some lowlife criminals to kill him; That's your job Pairings: Robin x Villain! Reader [You could see this as another part to Don't Let Me Down, but not a direct part 2] [Short again]

You weren't always watching Robin, even though he seemed to think otherwise. No one had time for something stupid like that- At least not with a million other superheroes/vigilantes running around that you had to keep an eye out for. The only person who seemed to always have an eye on Robin was Slade, but that was none of your business.

With that being said, there were times where you did do a little stalking on him. That's what lead to this situation-

---

He was going to die. Alone. Maybe it was how he was supposed to leave the world? He didn't know, but he didn't feel good. Though his life was about to get much worse. Especially when he saw a familiar face looking down at him.

He groaned as you crouched down to his level. His eyes may have been fucked up and bruised, but he could still see you; Annoying, troublesome you.

"Wow, you look like shit."

He huffs, but doesn't respond in any words. He couldn't fall asleep, because he doesn't trust you; Although, he couldn't stop his eyes from slowly falling.

You watch as he closes his eyes, as you examine his body. His clothes were torn and he was covered in cuts and bruises. You hoped you didn't encounter it. Though, it didn't kill him, so it couldn't have been that bad- Unless it was him...

You shook your head, before raising a hand to his face. A light glow emits from your hand, before it covers his face. You hear him groan again, but you decide to ignore it. His face slowly starts to heal, with the skin quickly healing over the cuts.

He groans again, but his eyes stay close. You stand up, slightly kicking him.

"Okay, buddy. You have to get up, I'm sure your idiot friends are looking for you. So, stop being a baby and get up; you're fine."

He only groans, causing you to roll your eyes. You look around, before clicking your tongue and looking back at him. You sigh, trying to decide what to do. But before you can make a decision, the world decides to make it for you and you hear voices- Their voices.

"I think he's over here, guys!"

You quickly crouch, before flying off, leaving him for his friends to find.

---

Robin awakes with his neck painfully stabbing him. He looks around to find himself in the tower. He didn't remember how he got there, but he did remember that you had helped him. Why did you help him? Maybe you were all that bad- No, he shook his head. You were evil just like the rest and he was sure you were trying to lower his guard. Though, if anything, this just made him more on guard.

There was a part of him though that knew you had caught him at his most vulnerable and instead of killing him you helped him. It was strange and he didn't like it. But maybe you were changing? He doubted it though. He knew you liked causing mischief, it seemed in your nature- So for you to change, it'd have to be a miracle. But, maybe one day you would change, and he could offer you a spot with the Titans. Anything could happened, he supposes, but not any time soon.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Emergency Contact

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.

[danwhobrowses]

So a thing happened on Critical Role this week (campaign 3 ep 91), we're gonna talk about it - a long talk - so if you haven't been caught up and don't wanna be spoiled don't keep reading okay?

One of the disadvantages of being in a different time zone is that after fretting all morning, going to work, thinking 'it's 7am maybe it's done now' I had to sit in my office for a stressful final half hour murmuring don't do this don't fucking do this don't you dare fucking do this!

I already was worried for everyone given the cliffhanger last episode, and the 5 hour length made me further worried as players kept being knocked down by Otohan Thull - already frightening in base form but now with an even higher AC and empowered. Then Sam Riegel had to do what he does best, a devastating sacrifice where FCG blows himself up to take down Otohan - Ludinus' No. 2, harrowed for being proficient in slaughter, defeated by no assassin or warrior but a cleric saving their friends. We've been well past 'get off the moon' hours with this one, but now there is an impact on every one of the Hells to think about, which is what this will be about.

FCG Though he is dead there is still stuff to talk about with FCG's death. A common debate right now is the potential of the Reincarnate spell; while the wording of the death implies that FCG's current body is irreparable there is a chance that a 5th Level Druid Spell can fashion him a new body, one of flesh, bone and tongue. The body itself needs to be dead for less than 10 days so there is wiggle room to gain the necessary components too if the top brass of Exandria turn it into a fetch quest. There is argument on both sides though; if FCG comes back does it undermine his sacrifice? Perhaps, but there's no incentive for the Hells to not try. Reincarnation hasn't quite happened in Critical Role yet - Since Molly/Lucien/Kingsley was kinda different, he kinda had the opposite, different mind same body - so it'd be a refreshing new option and also a way to redesign FCG without having to create a whole new cleric (because they definitely need a cleric) with a whole new skillset that the Hells will need to warm towards before the final battle. But at the same time, the soul has to be willing. FCG was content with his sacrifice, and in the arms of the Changebringer would he go back? I'd like to hope so if it's an option, it'd also entertain a whole new character arc for him as a 'real boy' - plus Matt and Sam don't have to fully abide to the D100 rule of what race he turns into. Of course, I like this angle more than needing a new character, because I like happy endings and it makes narrative sense that the Hells would claw and bite to pull him from that sweet goodnight. It would also validate a reason for the Hells to align with the gods, because if divine favour comes into play and the Gods decide against helping Bell's Hells' greatest advocate for saving them then they are foolishly and callously forsaking key players to their survival, FCG reincarnating with the help of the Gods would play a big part in the Hells standing with them rather than losing faith in them, and even with friction between the Titans & Temults and the Gods from the past they would have a common enemy. Still living or dying can have varying effects on the other characters.

Ashton From the moment Ashton met FCG they wanted to make sure this little bot would be okay, that they'd learn to value their life and be able to thrive. While part of that did happen, Ashton is likely going to feel like nothing's changed since Bassuras; knocked out by Otohan and when awakened a friend is dead, another person they couldn't protect.

Before the shard, I think Ashton would very easily fly off the handle, in their anger they'd blame everything including themselves and maybe even consider leaving themselves, it probably have made them more self-destructive too. Now though I'm not so sure, nobody would hold it against them to waver a little on their promise to take care of themselves in a burst of grief, this was after all their best friend someone they looked after like a little brother, and while I can see Ashton quietly and angrily grieving I can also see Ashton double down on trying to keep their promise, making sure that FCG didn't go out like a martyr and that it won't be in vain. FCG reincarnating would assist in Ashton's character drive too, since I feel like they would detest any replacement cleric because it's not FCG, they may also be less abrasive towards the gods if they came through for them and proved that they care - at least to the Changebringer, think they'd still throw copper at the Dawnfather given the whole Angel incident.

Imogen As the nominated leader of Bell's Hells, many will probably look to Imogen Temult for action, the problem is she has her own mother issues to deal with too - and I'm not entirely sold that Liliana has fully made a turn just yet, only that she won't hand over the Hells to Ludinus. FCG's death is gonna produce a lot of guilt from Imogen though, she was detesting the fact that she had to play dead at 1HP while Otohan cut down her friends again, she will likely blame her inaction which in turn may push her to be more aggressive in combat.

At the same time, I can see her being one of the more gung ho characters to push towards the Reincarnate option, perhaps even going as far as to accost or lambast anyone regardless of alliances or rank who she feels isn't as committed. Imogen has been in the position of loss before, and knowing that FCG had a connection with FRIDA she would likely compel herself to fix it rather than have to deliver the bad news. Regardless of whether he reincarnates though I feel like Imogen may look towards some more defensive spells, and maybe through Liliana try to tap into the powers of an Exalted to try and match the power she saw from Otohan, a risky endeavour for sure but FCG took an even greater risk for them.

Orym Orym is probably the toughest of the Hells to read when it comes to FCG's death. There will of course be a deep sadness at the loss of a friend, but I would also sense a...not bitterness but discontent that this is how it went down. Otohan killed his family, he kept fighting her until he could no longer stand because that's what they would've done, and now she's dead but it doesn't make it better, he wasn't the one to do it, he didn't even see it, and the one who did is gone with her. When Bor'dor was killed, Orym coldly reminded himself that 'we're at war', but I don't think he can justify that way with FCG, the loss was greater than the catharsis.

The death also has to turn attention to his deal with Nanna Mori. Many have pointed out that there is a lot of technicalities that may prolong, void or complete the deal; it was never specified how many times the Hells could return from the moon to continue the deal, but at the same time they did technically return from the moon to Exandria safe and sound via the Secret Backdoor. Still, Mori is his best friend's grandmother, there could be leeway on that matter too and even if he does have to commit to the deal (which I call 'Fatekeeper Orym') it's never been explicitly said that Orym needs to constantly attend to Mori in the Feywild, only that he has to be her caretaker and answer her beck and call. However, FCG's death will likely provide a sobering thought that his deal with Mori was perhaps voided, unless there is one more thread he can have her pull. When it comes to seeking options to bring a friend back, I would keep a close eye on Orym - it's not the first time Liam's resolved himself to be damned before.

Fearne Fearne will likely be a linchpin if the Hells seek out Reincarnate. The spell is exclusive to Druids and if Keyleth isn't on hand to do it the task and pressure will fall to her. It'll be interesting how she reacts, I don't wanna say she'll be the most positive of it because she'll certainly be upset, but I can see her being optimistic even if it's to also convince herself, the one who is most encouraging to find a way. As a shipper I of course want her to be the one who comforts and gets through to Ashton while they grieve but if she also is key to his reincarnation that also adds to their slow-burn. Outside of that, FCG's death may also lead into learning about Mori's deal with Orym, which will probably anger her that Orym kept it from her, there is also the fact that having FCG's life in her hands may bring back bad memories of Bassuras and Whitestone. One must also especially worry about her Asmodeus calling card, the Prince of Lies does nothing for free and I still feel like Klask was planted in her path by Asmodeus' (and maybe even Athion's) titan-seeking design.

If FCG does reincarnate though, I could see her friendship with FCG being even greater than it was, since they'll both feel a greater zeal for life - it may also make her feel further distant from her Evil vision, since she will have saved half her friends rather than risked killing them. If not though, Fearne may have to play mediator for the new cleric and may also be pushed towards freeing up more slots for healing to provide more support for the Hells in future battles.

Chetney It's gonna be an interesting one for Chetney too, from one perspective you could see him thinking that FCG traded their life for his; he died, he made peace with that, but then the one who revived him died. Chetney's more personal mindset has often been cloaked in secrecy, perhaps as one of the least open of the Hells despite many claiming him as the Heart of the group, so I wonder if Chetney may harbour some Survivor's Guilt for what happened.

I can see Chetney being the one to keep his emotions close to his chest, even if FCG were to reincarnate he would perhaps try to shrug off that he always knew it'd happen anyway. That being said someone who remains stoic and unwavering may prove a positive or a negative to the group, depending on the person or their interpretation of it. If a new cleric comes along though I could see him being additionally protective of them, having been the new guy before.

Laudna We should all be worried for Laudna right now. The recent 4SD already revealed that Laudna's 'close to the brink' and I'm pretty sure this is the brink. The aftermath of the Otohan fight will likely push each of the Hells to get stronger, since had they hit harder or been able to take stronger blows it wouldn't have come to this, but that will mean bad things when it comes to Laudna, as she may seek to gain power the only way she thinks she can - through Delilah. After all her last two levels went to Sorcery and did little in the fight, whereas her Warlock class Eldritch Blasts hurt Otohan fairly decently, such a thing can linger in the mind for Delilah to manipulate.

It'll be telling if they do try to Reincarnate him whether the damage will have been done already to Laudna, and that the joy of bringing him back turns to tragedy of Laudna losing herself further, as it often does it will fall to how she leans on Imogen, and how open about it she'll be to her. If FCG is lost however, we may have to keep a very close eye on Laudna being next.

Bell's Hells As I mentioned with Laudna, FCG's death will have made something apparent and clear; despite everything Bell's Hells need to get stronger. Even at Lv13, even with Exalted powers, Fey bargains and Titan shards they still just barely escaped a TPK, and granted they were weakened and worn out but no fight is guaranteed to ever be fought at 100%. Otohan may've been the toughest General of the Vanguard but the other Generals - the Weavemind, Zathuda and the Dominon of Cruft Commander - are still not ones to take lightly, Ludinus is still not one to take lightly, and if Liliana is going to be used by him to become a vessel for Predathos, that cannot be taken lightly. Bell's Hells may need to look towards enhancing their stats as well as their equipment, the harness is still a factor too which can boost them all with enough enchanted items at their disposal. An interesting one would be if Otohan's backpack ends up in one of the Hells' hands; many beforehand have talked about Orym being an Echo Knight but I would personally like to see Ashton take it, since it is powered by the Potion of Possibility like their own Dunamancy powers, it's possible (eheh) that they may align in some manner and could you imagine Ashton + 3 Echoes all raging to get All 4 Dunamancies? Otohan's swords may also provide unique properties for Chetney and/or Orym to use. Reincarnation or not I feel like that may be the Hells' next plan once it's discussed whether to attempt Reincarnation and they're off of Ruidus, gathering allies will likely also be something to prepare for for the final battle given how Otohan stated that they have 'enough Ruidusborns' for their plan. As a group it is difficult to tell if this will strengthen or weaken them, it could strengthen them in a 'never again' way like the Nein, but they were also very enthusiastic about bringing Molly back - it drove them through several arcs - FCG however often was the Hells' beacon of hope and the self-imposed attempted therapist, without that the Hells will either have to put it upon themselves to go the extra lengths or they'll close further in on themselves. If FCG does reincarnate I feel like it would definitely strengthen them mentally but if not I am not so sure.

It shouldn't come to a surprise that I will hold onto the Reincarnate potential so that the Hells can get back their friend, but rest assured I'm worried for all of them right now, there are crossroads ahead.

[cogcltrcorn]

there is so much fucking Lore about kendall in the first few eps (coming Purely from everything we know about rava and from his attempts as ceo) that I feel get. dismissed most of the time. or maybe I am an insane man reading tea-leaves like "wow this is actually incredible kendall characterisation"

like. he isn't positioned as being "blue", but. he is, isn't he. his marriage with rava was probably almost entirely based on the promise of "well, let's wait it (logan's bullshit) out for a bit and then when I take over it's gonna be butterflies and rainbows". they adopt a brown child. they are clearly raising iverson with a level of awareness of his asd that signifies a level of involvement in progressive politics (with the important caveat of them both being hyper-priveleged one percenters). kenrava were out there thinking they were brangelina.

and! ken may not fucking say that he hates waystar, but. he fucking does, doesn't he??? he sees the company as old and feeble and near absolete and, well, logan is right to be scared that kendall will fucking sell the company from under him because kendall KIND OF WANTS TO. because if you are a capitalist that sees an old haunted house you fucking demolish it to build a parking lot. like, he talks about waystar being bloated and ancient and unadaptive and well. BRINGING IN STEWY IS NOT ONLY A MATTER OF NEEDING MONEY AND BEING DICKMATIZED. kendall would "force a boardseat on him for the optics" and what Are the optics of bringing a private equity shark onto the board of a company you have described as the fucking TITANIC??? s1 kendall may be fucking delusional about his ability to revitalize waystar (which. Is a sinking ship. from the pure market perspective), but he isn't incompetent. he has a good understanding of the problems the company has, he has a good understanding of the trends of the market, in the same way he sees the issues logan has, both as a father and as a businessman. and he feels like it is his sacred right to inherit the waystar and make it a hyper digital diversified company of the new age (tm), which would be against logan's will, but that's unimportant, because kendall is the second coming of christ and the inheritor of everything good about logan and the sacred flame that gets rid of everything bad about logan. there is this level of insane capitalist myth making going on in his head that makes him believe that making waystar more Progressive will make it more Profitable and vice versa, so they are basically the Same Thing, right? in his mind racism is bad because it's outdated and unappealing to younger demos. if shiv thinks that she can through her enlightened understanding of politics make waystar work for Her Ideals, bringing about a better world of girlbossing and moderate republican nominees, kendall dreams of a perfect centrist company existing in a perfect centrist utopia, where they make a bajillion dollars globally without committing politically or financially to anything other than being Liked. kendall is a neolib, at his core.

[fancyfade]

Read Batman and Robin #6...

Williamson really is determined to make me continue to lose my faith in his writing and being terrible at characterizing damian.

Williamson has Damian nearly reveal his secret identity twice (he lets Zach know that he recognizes him as Robin, which I could pass as just Damian having less secret identity concern than other Batfam members, but him accusing his principal of being Harsh/Shush in front of the soccer team just leaves me feeling like Williamson is interested in portraying Damian as a hot-headed moron. Like compare Damian going under cover in Gotham Academy or even in Super Sons, he acts way more level headed than this older Damian and at least when he does things that would logically blow his secret ID in Gotham Academy it seems like it's because he doesn't care, rather than because he's a moron).

We also have Williamson making references that seem to JUSTIFY the Teen Titans 2016 character-assassination (with Bruce saying he's going to talk Damian about prison ethics after Damian says they should just throw Zsasz in a pit to rot).

Like. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

again williamson seems to not really care about retconning out any of the OOC actions and seems here like he's just trying to make sure the reader knows he still considers them in character.

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Crashing Baby Birds (fluff)

Requested?: No

Oneshot: Damian crashes on Jason's couch after a long night.

words: 1263

Damian Wayne & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd

Here i am again, writing about my fav duo. They don't get nearly enough attention! Also Steph is joining, no idea how that happened. Its an experiment, im still improving my writing about her.

Jason woke up in the morning to the sun shining into his face and his alarmclock playing an awful pop song. He blindly hit his nightstand until he eventually hit the snooze button. Jason slowly sat up groaning while he rubbed his face to wake himself up. He slowly got up and grabbed a grey t-shirt from the floor. His bedroom wasn't exactly a mess but maybe he should do his laundry sometime soon.

Jason stretched as he got up and decided to do breakfast and shower first and postpone the laundry until later. Or never. He left his bedroom and froze. Something was wrong. The window was... only half closed. Jason always made sure to lock his windows and doors... Someone had bridged his security system.

He slowly made his way into the living area, guarded up and ready to fight the intruder. Nothing seemed to be missing, there were some dirt footprint stains on the carpet floor. Jason made his way over to the window and locked it again.

He flinched as he heard a quiet noise behind him, he turned around, ready to attack. When he spotted a small boy with jetblack hair and tan skin sitting up groggily on his worn-down couch.

"Damian?" Jason exclaimed confused. "De fuck are you doin' here?" Damian blinked hazily and rubbed his eyes, the domino masked layed forgotten next to the couch table. Finally, he looked up at Jason. "Todd? What are you doing here?" He asked, he obviously missed what the other boy said before.

Jason smirked and headed over to sit down on the couch next to Damian. "Well, I live here." Jason joked. Damian looked at him confused before he registered where he was. "Oh. Appareantly." Damian grumbled. "I should leave." Damian got up but winced and sat down on the floor.

"Hey now. You can stay." Jason said quickly, raising his hands apologizingly. "What happened to you?" "Nothing." Damian answered through gritted teeth and started a new try to get up. "Nothing, huh? Nothing looks pretty painful to me." Jason answered while he rolled his eyes at the stubborness of the boy.

"What hurts?" He asked while he got up and kneeled down on Damian's level. "Nothing." Damian growled. Jason sighed while he scanned down Damian's body. He looked tired and a little pale. "Listen kid, its either me or i go and call Bruce." He threatened half-serious. "Something is telling me that you dont want the old man right now." Jason smirked at Damian.

Damian crossed his arms and looked away from him. "Leg." He grumbled quietly. Jason chuckled. "Thought so. Stay, i get the med kit." He got up and grabbed the green box from the bathroom and swiftly returned before Damian could run off.

When he returned, he saw that Damian had already ripped open the fabric around the wound. Jason knelt down next to him. "Stab?" He asked curiously. "I got distracted." Damian argued angrily. Jason raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "The great Damian Wayne. Getting distracted? Well, now you got me curious. B already letting you patrol alone?" He asked while he started to clean up the bloody wound.

"He thinks im with the Titans." Damian grumbled. "But you aren't?" Jason answered. "No shit, Todd, stop trying to make conversation with me." Damian snapped. "I was with them but Starfire was starting a fight over team effort and respectful conversation again so i left!"

All Jason did was chuckle. Damian glanced at him offended. "What?!" he scowled. "Was it really Starfire who started that fight?" Jason smirked. Damian growled unamused. "Maybe I got a little firey." He grumbled quietly.

Jason sighed but decided to drop the topic. They both stayed silent while Jason was fixing Damian's leg. Once he finished he helped Damian up. "So, what happened with B?" Jason asked. "He banned me from patrol because i stabbed the Penguin." Damian grumbled. Jason burst out laughing.

"Bad day, huh?" He asked while he gently nudged Damian back on the couch. Damian huffed and sat back down. Jason ruffled his hair and Damian groaned and layed down to escape the affection. "I can go now." He grumbled.

"No you can't. You can stay or i call one of the others to come pick you up. You won't go outside in your Robin costume and injuried in the living daylight." Jason stated. Damian groaned into one of the pillows. "What's your pick?" Jason asked pushy.

Damian hesitated for a few moments. "I'll stay." He finally mumbled into the pillow. Jason smiled down at his little brother. "Excellent decision. I'll go find some clothes for you to wear." Damian lifted his head up to look at Jason.

"You are build like a fridge, Todd, i highly doubted anything from you would remotely fit my size." He argued. Jason smirked at him playfully. "Maybe one day when you finally grow a little, Shorty. For now i can offer you some stuff that Tim left here." Damian huffed and buried his face back into the pillow exhausted.

Stephanie Brown pulled up the car in front of an apartment complex in Gotham Midtown. The sun was already nearly set and the buildings shined in the last streams of sunlight. Weird enough that she had to pick up Damian somewhere but what was even weirder was, that she had to pick him up at Jason's place. She texted Jason who opened the door for her. The house was a little worn down, the area was not too criminal but still no place for a kid to run around. Well, at least Damian was not a regular kid.

Stephanie made her way up the stairs, Jason was leaning against the doorframe of his apartment and smiled at her. "At this point i could host a family meeting here, ya know." He joked. Stephanie chuckled. "You called me, i came."

Jason smirked. "Quiet right, thanks for picking up the demon spawn." He led Stephanie into his living area. She smiled softly, as she spotted Damian sleeping on the couch tucked under one of Jason's blankets. His face was completly relaxed and he breathed softly through his slightly parted lips. "Aww." She simply said before she cleared her throat and turned back to Jason.

"Right, anyhow. How did he end up here?" She asked while gesturing towards Damian. "Well, appareantly he had a fight with everyone and crashed here after he got stabbed." Jason shrugged with his hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo pants.

Stephanie looked at him puzzled but nodded slowly. "Mhh, Bruce mentioned something like that." She brushed back her hair before she glanced back at Damian. "You would never think he could stab someone when he is cuddled up there all peaceful and fluffy." She said after a few minutes of silence and just watching Damian rest.

Jason chuckled. "Fluffy?" He asked smirking. Steph nodded. "Come on, he looks fluffy. Look at that hair." She argued playful. Jason wheezed laughing. "Right. Fluffy."

"Shall we wake him?" Jason asked after he calmed down again. Stephanie hesitated. "How tired was he?" She asked thoughtful. "Very. Im pretty sure he would sleep through the night if we'd let him." Jason answered.

"We could let him sleep and go on patrol to kick some butt. I've been dying to go on patrol, Batman made me stay inside researching intel last night." She groaned.

Jason laughed lightly and nudged her playfully. "Let's go, i doubt Demon Spawn would run off. Even if, he is injuried. We could probably catch him."

Steph laughed. "Duh."

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Scarecrow Cave

Characters: Reader, Scarecrow, Jason Todd

Warnings: Language, violence

Inspiration: Season 3

Summary: Captured by a psychopath, you walked a dangerous line to stay alive and bring back Jason.

Crane stood so close that you could practically smell the blood from his open wounds. He grinned like the classic psychopath that he was.

“Batman kept his trophies. Time for me to keep my own.”

“Wow.” You gasped with no excitement whatsoever. “You’re on that next level bullshit.”

Crane winced at your words and, in retrospect, you should have been more careful and attentive to the sharp object in his hands. A blur of silver flashed by your face and embedded itself in your thigh. The cry of surprise that escaped made Jason flinch and coil back for a second.

“Fuck!” Crane shouted to himself and pulled away. He swiped his mouth with the back of his weapon-wielding hand. “See what you made me do with that attitude?“

The madman snapped his fingers to where Jason was watching, visibly shaken. “Jay, my boy. My trophy has a scratch, patch it up will you - I need to take a walk.”

Crane chuckled to himself and then slowly sauntered off towards the exit. He hummed a silly little tune and waved the bloodied blade around like it was a dancing prop.

You felt the pain in your thigh worsening and hoped that the man hadn’t severed a vein in the process. Deep in thought, you hadn’t noticed Jason grabbing the first aid box from the Batcave console and walking up to you.

“Are you insane? Talking to Crane like that, it’s going to get you killed.” Jason chastised angrily. He pulled out the gauze and antiseptic liquid and anything else he could think of that would help not have you bleeding out.

You gave a small musing sigh. “It’s a shitty situation. I’m going to make the best of it.”

“I don’t want you to die, Y/n.” Jason confessed.

Despite all this talk about him being Red Hood and leaving Jason Todd behind, the boy that you knew the longest wasn’t beyond help. If you were being honest, it was the most hope you’d had in a long time. Jason poured the antiseptic fluid over the wound and you turned away instantly to take a deep breath. You then heard him prepare the stitching needle for a few minutes before feeling the prick against your torn skin.

Once you were sewn back up, it was like Crane had timed his entrance.

“Jay, how’d we go?” His voiced echoed before he showed up.

Packing the kit back up, Jason stepped back and nodded. “They’ll live.”

Crane stopped before his captive and looked at your features. He gave a curt nod.

“Good.” He said and then pulled out a gun that was pointed to your head.

Jason jumped forward in a panic. “What the fuck man?! I just stopped them from bleeding out.”

Crane held your gaze before they creased as he smiled and he retracted the weapon. “Only kidding.” He teased and then looked at the young boy. “Lighten up, Jay. They’re all the same. They just let you down.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of the villains head. You’d call bullshit but he’d likely gouge out an eye in a wild retaliation. 

The best way out of this was to stay alive long enough for the Titans to make a move or wait until the cave empire to launch an escape. But judging from the way Crane casually sat back on the chair in front of the large monitor, it was going to be a while.

Masterlist here

[worldseer]

A list of random HCs about Jason Todd because I have brainrot~

THESE ARE MY PERSONAL HEADCANONS! IF YOU DISAGREE, THAT'S FINE BUT DON'T LEAVE HATE! Headcanons are separated by catagories: Random, fluffy, angsty, and NSFW. MDNI!!!! The different colors are just to break up the hcs a bit and not look like pure walls of text-

Random:

Has tapetum lucidum after being in the pit, causing his eyes to glow green in low/no light.

Has hazel eyes, which causes them to look brown or green at certain times.

Built sturdy and more like a boxer. I refuse to believe that this man isn't wide. Getting a better diet since being adopted + Robin training + Lazarus Pit = BIG. FRIDGE OF A MAN.

Has vitiligo, hence the white streak in his hair. It just so happened to show up after being resurrected.

Known to sleep walk and talk after resurrection. If he ever sleeps at the Manor, Bruce has cameras and sensors in place to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

Mostly talks shit to the houseplants while sleepwalking.

Canonically eats fast food alot. However, he always manages to burn off the calories. And the fat just makes him bulkier.

Bisexual but he doesn't tell anyone. Not that he's trying to hide it. He just doesn't label himself.

Wears eyeliner regularly, just because he wants to. Look I just love the concept, ok?

Considering getting his ears pierced, just debating on what exact kind of piercing

Has tattoos but not many, most notably small tattoo of a flower on his wrist to honor the death of Catherine, his step-mother.

Has prominent scars: Autopsy scar (died, obvi), scar stretching from the left edge of his left cheek and then up into his hairline (from crowbar), cut in his right eyebrow (from fighting as a child), lip scar that runs from slightly above the skin of his top lip and down over his lips to his chin on his left ( also from fighting as a child). Any other "scar" he receives since resurrection often fades away due to effects from the pit. The others do not fade.

Almost as tall as Bruce, maybe shorter by about an inch at most.

Fluffy:

Has cried watching the Titanic movie. Was inconsolable for a week. Refuses to watch it ever again.

Laughs at horror films these days. Also will talk about how cuts and bullet wounds are anatomically incorrect like its casual conversation. It's one of the few activities he actively enjoys doing with Damian.

Calls Dick an old man just to spite him.

Never passes on an opportunity to tease Tim and call him a huge fucking nerd.

Loves all animals, but prefers cats. No real reason. He just always liked them more. Used to leave cans of food out for the cats to eat from as a kid.

Mostly likes Nu Metal, since it allowed him as a kid to get anger out and all the cool teens in his neighborhood blasted it a lot. But he's not picky about music. Secretly a snob for classical music though.

Strong relationship with Barbara, thinks of her as a sister he never had.

Always helps Alfred cook when he's at the Manor, and is good at it. Obviously works a knife well in cooking, but secretly prefers baking because the kitchen smells better afterwards.

As I've said before, I would not be surprised if he brings a stray home from either a shelter or the street. If he could, he'd help all the stray animals in Gotham and keep them.

Cares deeply about Tim. Tries to act like a big brother and be a good example to the best of his ability.

Not really a gamer, but he had some old consoles when he was a young kid under Bruce's care. Loved Wii Sports; boxing was his favorite. Nowadays, he doesn't play video games much. When he has time and feels like it though, he will play a game or two. Doom Eternal and Red Dead Redemption II are the top favorites after being resurrected.

Spends a good amount of time around Cass when at the Manor. They probably understand each other on almost a psychic level. They also train together a lot too to sharpen skills they both are weaker in.

Angst: (sorry for the pain)

Volunteers often at shelters and soup kitchens as a way to cope, makes him believe that he can offer comfort instead of just pain and being a burden.

Prefers to not talk out feelings after being resurrected; usually drives around to clear his head. Depending on how bad the situation is, it ranges from a few minutes to over an hour.

Loves classical literature because it was the first thing that allowed him to escape reality.

Has weird as fuck dreams, thanks to trauma and the pit. Never says anything about them to others however.

Never lets his stubble grow out too much because it makes him think he looks too much like Bruce, and he doesn't want to look like him.

Picked up smoking because what the hell are they gonna do? Kill him again? Always tries to avoid smoking around the others though, especially the members who are younger than him.

Rarely drinks. Reminds him too much of his birth father. Only does it for times when things are really bad.

Is so close to Barbara because she's one of the few who understands what it's like to be traumatized by the Joker. Often seeks her out for some comfort if his PTSD acts up again.

Hates crying, never cries in front of others unless he really trusts them. People who have seen him cry include Barbara, Dick, Alfred, and Bruce (on accident).

Grew up Catholic. Stopped believing the moment right before he died. Now has immense Catholic guilt and occasionally questions his morals a lot. (Might be self projecting but fuck it)

Zones out a lot. Happens the most during off time. If he's not doing anything, he's likely zoned out. Usually zones out when he thinks too hard about what the Lazarus Pit did to him, his death, and resurrections.

Copes in brash and self-depreciative humor. Also will make fun of others to draw attention away from his own problems.

Tried to help Catherine as much as he could, even if she wasn't the best mother to have.

NSFW: (Minors look no further!!!!)

A switch, dominant-leaning.

Softer dom, surprisingly. Sure, he can be a hard dom if he asked, but that's not what he wants. Coos sweet words while teasing.

Grunts and groans. Not vocal, but he'll talk through it sometimes. Grits his teeth if he's really into it.

"Oh, look at you on my cock. So tight and taking all of it, do you feel full? You look good when you're full of me."

He needs foreplay before subbing. Sometimes he's still wary about letting his guard down, so he needs lots of prepping and reassurance. Once he is into subbing, he's very obedient and eager to please.

Softer noises and gasps when subbing. He doesn't dare be loud, and often tries to cover up his noises. Doesn't beg often, takes what he gets without much complaint.

"Mmph- ah- hah- fuck- I'm close- I'm close baby. Can I finish?"

LOVES dirty talk, giving and receiving. He's already a bit of a cocky lil shit, so he'll tease you and talk you through it. Supportive about his dirty talk usually.

"That's it. Just like that. God- you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect- keep goin' baby, I gotcha."

Not experienced, sorry. With a combination of being bad at expressing emotions, trauma, and being busy as a vigilante, he does not get many bitches.

Has had hookups here and there, but that's all they were. He left the moment the other was all settled or asleep.

Experimental. Because he's low on experience, he's not entirely sure what he does or doesn't like.

Would not use a weapon in bed. That's a hard line. Weapons make him think of violence, and that's the last thing he wants to think about when in such a vulnerable moment.

Hates degradation, on both ends. Won't do it even if asked. The only time he'd ever get close to degrading is if you allow him to fuck while he's still working through some anger. Would apologize profusely afterwards though.

Not big on being tied up himself, but likes tying someone else up a bit. Nothing crazy besides handcuffs. Any further and he feels like he's taking advantage/being taken advantage of.

PRAISE!!! Loves to receive it, especially if he's being focused on or on the more submissive side.

A giver. He's not selfish, and feels bad if the other is not feeling good as well. Would most likely give more than he ever receives.

Not picky. As long as you are clean and consenting, he'll eat out if offered/allowed. Hair? Doesn't matter. Menstruating? Good thing he's low on iron. And you best believe that he is not stopping until you either push him away or are begging.

Thick, as expected. A little bit over 6" long. Prominent veins.

Trimmed, not shaved. Yes there is a difference.

Has a bit of a happy trail, and veins appear on v-line when hard.

Aftercare game ranges on how much he and his partner did, and their relationship. Hookups are usually left to take care of themselves and he leaves quickly. If Jason is serious about someone, he'll grab a washcloth, urge the other to use the bathroom (and maybe carry them if they're tired), and stay for cuddles.

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Moth to a Flame

CHAPTER TWO

chapter synopsis: You're put in a training group for the day, is it to show your skills or so Levi can watch you?

ao3

C H A P T E R T W O – B U T T O N

"Oi." Levi spoke, his arms across his chest. "Listen, you're going to be put into training groups of 4. You're going to spar each other and test your ODM gear skills."

The group nods in unison. "Yes, sir."

"The groups are as follows." Levi lists off names while you anxiously waiting for him to utter your name.

"Lastly, Kirstein, Ackerman, Yaeger, and..." Levi said your surname, almost in a softer tone than the others.

You and Mikasa are arguably the strongest in the regiment, after Captain Levi of course. You're both super fast and work well together when it comes to fighting titans.

Jean and Eren, well they need some help.

"I think he made this group on purpose." Mikasa whispered in your ear. You freeze for a moment. Did she know about you and Levi?

"Why do you think that?"

"We're obviously the strongest and most skilled. Eren and Jean are almost there, but not on our level. So we can show them how its done."

One thing about Mikasa is that she always has her eye on the goal. In the scout regiment, it's to save humanity.

You strap on the ODM gear, tightening the straps around your thighs.

"I wish I could live in between these thighs." Levi kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing his mouth to the fabric of your panties.

Shaking the thought out of your head, you look for your group. Eren and Jean were arguing (per usual) while Mikasa rolled her eyes behind them.

Captain Levi was observing next to Commander Hange. She was always so enthusiastic about watching us train, especially when she just finished an experiment with titans.

"Hey," Jean said your name, waving you to go over to him. "Wanna spar?"

"Sure." You smile, making sure your ODM gear is in tact. While you and Jean maneuver around each other, you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Jean trips over a rock on the ground, pushing his body against yours to the ground.

"You would trip over a tiny ass rock." You laugh as Jean is still on top of you, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

"I fight fucking titans, but a ROCK is what fumbles me."

"What's going on over here?" Levi's voice boomed. You heard his footsteps near your feet. "Kirstein. On your feet."

"Sorry Captain, I tripped. I didn't see that rock." Jean pointed to the rock, brushing his shirt off before helping you up. You take his hand, a bit tighter than normal. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really." You nod, looking down at your body. The button to your shirt popped open at your chest, revealing your clavicle.

"You need to see a nurse." Levi analyzed your body.

"I don't even think I have a scratch, Captain. Really it's fine."

"That wasn't a question." Levi turned around before you could speak. No part of your body hurt, and it's not like Jean did it intentionally.

You turn to head to the main building with the nurses office, rolling your eyes because this is certainly a waste of time.

As you reach the office, you hear familiar footsteps.

"Captain, don't waste your time on this." You look at Levi. "I'm really fine. It's not like Jean did it on purpose, and I barely fell."

"You could have internal injuries. Maybe a concussion."

"You're being ridiculous." You almost lose your composure as you walk into the nurses office. "I'm fine."

"Well I need to make sure that's true."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"You look good, cadet." The nurse, Rachel, patted your knee. "You have a little bruise on your chest, but it's nothing to worry about."

"See?" You look at Levi. "Can I go back to training now?"

"No." Levi turned on his heels, exiting the office.

You were stunned. Confirmation from the nurse that you're okay means nothing?

You follow Levi out the door, trying to catch up to him. "Captain, a word please."

Levi turns around, his steel eyes fixed on yours.

"Why can't I go back to training? We have a mission at the end of the week that Commander Erwin has developed a whole plan for. You need me to fight."

"You need to rest today, I can't have you at anything less than your best. Especially because of the mission." Levi took a step toward you. "That's an order."

Your eyes wander around Levi's face, his undercut fresh, his eyes that beautiful shade of stone that you love.

Loved.

You take another step towards Levi, hoping he would move away from you so you can forget these feelings once again.

But he doesn't. He just looks at you, your body, almost fixating on your chest. Your button was still popped, some sweat dripping down your breasts from the end of summer/autumn air.

Levi's tongue grazed his bottom lip. "Button your shirt. Before you get dress-coded."

With that, Levi is gone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

During dinner, Jean kept stealing glances of you. When he fell on you, there was some sort of spark. You've never looked at Jean in that way, but now it's more of a possibility.

Especially since you're no longer sleeping with Levi.

"How are you feeling?" Jean asked you, sliding his leg close to yours. He was sitting next to you, Connie and Sasha were next to him, and Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were on the other side of the table.

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me." You take a sip of your water.

"Nice one, Jean. You could've been in deep shit if you actually hurt her." Eren rolled his eyes.

"You're acting like I did that on purpose!"

"Maybe you did." Eren smirked. "Not to hurt her, though."

"Shut up Eren." Jean's eyes were wide. Jean is no good at hiding what he's feeling – you can tell all over his face. It's obvious Jean has a tiny crush on you, you've just never given him that time of day.

"Jean, do you wanna go for a walk?" You suggest, standing up from the table. Jean nodded and followed you out, Eren making kissing noises from the table.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" Jean questioned.

"Please stop asking. If I was hurt you would know." You look up at the night sky, watching the moon. "You know, when I was younger I always thought the moon was following me."

"Me too." Jean laughed. "I would always close my eyes for a minute, hoping the moon would be hiding."

Jean told you about his childhood, about his family and what he likes to do for fun. Well, liked. Before the scouts.

He's very easy to talk to, unlike some people.

"What do you two think you're doing?"

[masterqwertster]

Been thinking about it, so:

Bells Hells C1 Class Swap AU and the Spark of Rau'shan

The fun of AUs is at times taking the paths canon didn't...

Also this is really long so I put it under the cut.

So! Bells Hells still makes the trip through the Shattered Teeth, meets Evontra'vir, gets sent after the Spark, successfully retrieves it, goes back to Whitestone for the Quintessence Array.

Things go a little different in that when talking dunamancy with Allura, she does recognize the Echo Knight powers as such, though obviously different since Ashton's come in different forms. And still takes a look at the half-beacon brain and titan shard.

The big change though, comes later that night, when Fearne brings the group together to declare that she can't take the Spark, despite everyone else pushing for her to do it.

See, Fearne's power, her fire, comes from the Moonweaver in this AU, a Prime Deity who stood against the Primordial Titans, helping destroy and seal them. When Fearne held the Spark, she could feel Rau'shan's dislike for the gods, for those who serve them. So she knows the Spark won't accept her as its vessel.

Fearne also points out that this disqualifies Orym for the Spark as well, seeing as the little paladin is also devoted to a goddess.

Ashton volunteers themself in the ensuing silence of realization and states an unwillingness to back down unless someone else truly wants to have their life changed like that. No volunteering someone else for it anymore. He also points out that someone has to take it, otherwise Ludinus Da'leth is going to send someone to collect it for him, and that would be really fucking bad.

Imogen, as the first person to volunteer Fearne, thinking she had the perfect solution to bestowing the Spark, looks around to everyone else, hoping someone will step up and stop Ashton's bad idea.

No dice.

Chetney thinks Fire Titan powers would be cool as shit... but doesn't want to be constantly risking burning his carving projects to ash. ...And secretly worries that his limited time left among the living would leave the group in lurch on such an amazing (and likely necessary) power. If trying to take it doesn't make his old ticker give out.

Laudna won't take it on the grounds that she's kind of a mushroom colony and fire would burn her out. She doesn't want to burn, to die (again). (Yes, Delilah would still like it. Especially as All Minds Burn's influence is pushing her out and breaking her tether)

Laudna's rejection helps Imogen not want the Spark. She doesn't want things that will hurt Laudna or put distance between them. (Even if Imogen is starting to long for a power she doesn't have to worry about disappearing if they stop all this Moon Bullshit)

And while FCG is willing to try, they don't actually want it. ...And he has some concerns about his constructed nature meaning that trying to add a great power like the Spark to him without making adjustments to his built-in parameters might just overload his power-core and explode him. Or cause a critical (literal) meltdown.

So by default and desire, it's agreed that Ashton gets the Spark.

Now, because they have lots of warnings that this could kill Ashton and yet they're trying it anyways, things become a planning session for "What can we do to give Ashton the best odds of surviving this?"

Which is actually quite a bit given their party composition, as:

Paladin (Level 8 or less) Orym has:

Bless: 1st Level. 1 minute Concentration. Component of A Sprinkling of Holy Water. +1d4 to Attack Rolls and Saving Throws. I would guess they didn't try this in canon since Ashton's Probability Matrix didn't help and is basically the same thing. Though whether that failure was because it was Ashton's thing or just no boosts to Saving Throws in general… only Matt knows. Also, the Component being holy water... it might evaporate and negate the spell depending on if the holy water needs to touch the targets rather than be in the caster's hands

Cure Wounds: 1st Level. Restore 1d8+Your Spellcasting Modifier HP, +1d8 per level cast above 1st. Raw healing with the drawback of burning the caster

Heroism: 1st Level. 1 minute Concentration. At the start of its turn, the target gains Temporary HP equal to your Spellcasting Modifier. Kind of functions like Fearne's canon Aura of Life in that it would bounce Ashton up with each turn, though with Temp HP instead of the real deal. But that does provide time for real healing

Warding Bond: 2nd Level. Components of 2 Platinum Rings worth 50 gp each that must be worn by you and the target for the duration. +1 to AC and Saving Throws, and Resistance to all Damage. Drawback of taking equal damage yourself when the target does. Lasts for 1 hour, until you drop, or you and the target are separated by more than 60 feet. Or the spell is cast again on you or the target, or voluntarily ended by you as an Action. This could definitely help keep Ashton up, though there is a risk of Orym going down as well. And the Platinum Ring Components get tricky if the wrong arm/hand crumbles off of Ashton

Lay on Hands: Paladin healing pool of 5×Your Paladin Level HP that can be parceled out via touch with an Action. This can be used to either help keep Orym up for Warding Bond or just on Ashton in general. Though best not combined with Heroism or Bless since they're touch-based and touch burns, forcing a Concentration Check

Cleric (Level 11) Fearne has:

Aura of Life: 4th level. 10 minutes Concentration. Any ally in 30 foot radius regains 1 HP at the start of their turn if they are at 0. Fearne's canon MVP for keeping Ashton up

Aura of Vitality: 3rd Level. 1 minute Concentration. Restore 2d6 HP to one creature in a 30 foot radius of you with a Bonus Action. FCG's canon MVP for pumping extra health into Ashton. Also, since it's a Bonus Action to pump healing with this, it leaves room for a Spell Action to do even more healing

Beacon of Hope: 3rd Level. 1 minute Concentration. Affected creatures regain max HP possible from healing. Runs support for everyone else healing if Heroism is used to cover the role of Aura of Life

Bless: Possible boost to Saving Throws

Cure Wounds: Raw healing with the drawback of burning the caster

Death Ward: 4th Level. Drop to 1 HP instead of 0 from Damage the first time. Negates instant death effects that don't deal Damage. One Get Out of Jail Free card, though less useful with an Up Every Turn spell going on

Heal: 6th Level. Restore 70 HP. Good for one big burst of healing.

Healing Word: 1st Level. Bonus Action. Restore 1d4+Your Spellcasting Modifier HP, +1d4 per level cast above 1st. Raw healing without touch, so no threat to maintaining Concentration while throwing on more healing, but doesn't jive with Aura of Vitality Bonus Action healing

Druid (Level 11) Laudna has:

Aura of Vitality: Bonus Action for decent healing as long as Concentration is maintained

Cure Wounds: Raw healing with the drawback of burning the caster

Goodberry?: 1st Level. Component of A Sprig of Mistletoe. Produces 10 berries, eating one restores 1 HP and enough nourishment for 1 day. I think the berry would burn like the potion did, but it is potential to pop Ashton back up.

Heal: Good for one big burst of healing

Healing Word: Raw healing without touch, so no threat to Concentration, but is also a Bonus Action vs Aura of Vitality

Ranger (Level 8 or less) Imogen has:

Cure Wounds: Raw healing with the drawback of burning the caster

Goodberry?: potential to restore 1 HP in a pinch

Bard (Level 7 or 8)/Artificer (Level 3 or 4) FCG has:

Cure Wounds: Raw healing with the drawback of burning the caster

Healing Word: Raw healing without touch

Heroism: Temporary HP to bounce Ashton up every round

Boldness Elixir?: Alchemist Artificer's get Experimental Elixir, which allows for the random creation of one of six mini-potions. Boldness works like Bless, plus 1d4 to Attack Rolls and Saving Throws for 1 minute. Best to take that before they start absorbing the Spark, otherwise evaporation. If it works at all

Honestly, the only ones who can't contribute any healing or help? Ashton and Chetney (which also says something about the healing game of Vox Machina. It's likely part of how they managed so well without their cleric Pike most of the time). So really, having Ashton or Chetney take the Spark gives them the best odds for keeping the absorber up.

Bells Hells meets with Percy and Allura the next day and declare their intent for the insane and a need to delay the Moon Scouting Mission for another day. So hey, you've got more prep time for these awesome plans you've come up with!

It's stupid and crazy... and the only option they've really got at this time, unfortunately. And well... Percy and Allura have seen crazy and stupid work, so might as well let them try. While hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

Percy takes them all down to the Ziggurat as both a place of power to help the ritual and somewhere mostly isolated to keep the damage away from his people and city. Allura throws up the Magic Shield Bubble.

Bells Hells readies their spells, throws down what they can beforehand, and get Ashton hooked up in the Quintessence Array (in their skivvies to spare what's left of their clothes after the lava bath).

The ritual begins, with Ashton expanding and breaking and burning like canon.

Except when they fail a Save and explode, Ashton tries to Echo out of the explosion. Though instead of creating a single Echo to uselessly swap places with, Ashton accidentally splits themself into three bodies, three vessels, for the powers he contains:

A burning efreeti-like fire genasi Ashton, Vessel of the Spark of Rau'shan. Basically what Ashton would be like if he were still soft with canon!Fearne's Demi-titan style and a general fire genasi aesthetic layered over it.

A hulking, more Elemental earth genasi Ashton, Vessel of the Shard of Ka'Mort. Ashton's canon Demi-titan Form. Maybe a little bigger and more jagged. Also, the glass in their head is dark, no firework lights, though still an opal brain under there.

And a galaxy-winged aasimar Ashton, Vessel of Dunamancy. Basically what Ashton would have been without the Shard of Ka'Mort but still influenced by his half-beacon brain. Also, the gold scars and glass are still there, which looks odd on "human" flesh, but does help Bells Hells know that these are all Ashton.

The three Ashton Vessels are also connected by tethers of power, similar in appearance to a Twinned Witch Bolt, though with dunamantic flavoring as the Dunamancy Ashton is putting them out to the Titan Twins.

It is not, however, a Witch Bolt, but rather Ashton's will keeping the two Titan Fragments from running wild and attacking and/or exploding while also trying to draw them all back together into one being. But the Fragments have a bit of will of their own that latched on to similar sentiments in Ashton and are resisting him. Duna-Ashton is holding the Titan Vessels still for now, but that's not going to last and they still have to finish the absorption process/ritual.

So Bells Hells (who loaded up healing and support spells) has to protect Duna-Ashton from the Titan Vessels for the remainder of the minute (might be most of the minute, might be only a few Rounds) or the Titan Vessels will break free and try to escape the Magic Shield Bubble to go out into the world to instigate the Elemental Chaos that the titans ruled over before. Keeping Duna-Ashton up isn't easy as the Titan Vessels are pretty strong and HP heavy while Duna-Ashton does sort of try to fight and protect Bells Hells too while not being super buff. On the plus side, there's no range on the Will Tethers and there's a chance each Round that Duna-Ashton can Stun one or both of the Titan Vessels (I'm thinking WIS Save for the Vessels or Contested WIS Checks, Disadvantage for the Titan Vessel if Duna-Ashton is focused on only stilling one of them instead of both).

Eventually the absorption ritual ends and out of an immense cloud of steam emerges Ashton's new volcano Demi-titan Form (no rejection this time as there's no one else to really take it anyways). Basically his canon Demi-titan Form except that the jade is darkened and the amethyst turned to citrine as pointed out could happen with all that heat in this cool post, with lava fissures across them and the gold glowing hot. Also maybe bump the height up another foot or two for the colossus of two Titan Fragments.

Nobody can believe that fucking worked. What the hell have they just helped bring into existence?

Anyways, once Allura is reassured that Ashton isn't about to explode again to much more disastrous effect, she brings the Magic Shield Bubble down so Ashton and Bells Hells can go experiment with his new form a bit on the backside of the Ziggurat. (Ashton thinks they could have forced their way out of the bubble if they had to, but that would have been bad and dangerous) Mostly it's playing with Earth Glide and a few really basic fire spells as taught by Professor Fearne Calloway with assistance from TA Laudna. Ashton even pops off an Echo of his new form, which is just as capable of moving through earth as him (he doesn't mention bringing out the Echo felt like he might split into pieces again. He's sure that'll go away with time, right?).

Eventually, the Demi-titan Form ends, reverting Ashton back to his normal form, including coloring, with volcanic replacements for anything that broke off with still glowing lava veins and maybe a few random citrine crystals among the amethyst of their hair, or a citrine streak or undercut could be cool too. And hot sunny day beating down on a rock heat from his skin.`

Exhausted but generally satisfied with the outcome, Bells Hells totters off for bed.

But that night, either the Moonweaver or Nana Morri contacts Fearne and beckons her to return to Ligament Manor to receive the power of her heritage, just as her friend has.

So Fearne brings it up the next morning, setting off a debate of More Power vs Do the Mission. Which ends in her favor because Nana Morri can fuck with time so they don't loose any and might actually gain some (104 years from Fearne's perspective vs 6 years from her parents' perspective. Fearne is 112, Ollie thought she was 14 when reunited, 14-6=8 years with her parents, 112-8= 104 years with Nana), Laudna would like more time to get into her All Minds Burn shit, and Ashton fesses up about their Echo ability feeling unstable while hoping a bit more time will let everything settle right. Also, it's a training opportunity in general. Time to heal, time to focus, time to ponder and think. A moment to fucking breathe that they haven't really had since Bassuras the first time around.

Allura agrees to cart them to and from the Fey Realm (and gather information on an Archfey for the Arcana Pansophical on the side) given time shouldn't be an issue of more than one more day's worth of delay (which isn't great, but hopefully shouldn't be catastrophic).

They arrive, Morri agrees to make the Manor their training/general retreat, and sends Fearne on her way to talk with Birdie.

So hey, Fearne's got the blood of a minor archfey/fey lord in her veins. Plus she was raised by an Archfey. That has to count for something, right? I'm thinking either Fearne gets some fey or Bearer of the Lightless Flame('s kid) type of personal upgrade, or Birdie stole something powerful from Zathuda (besides the Moontide Crown that Ira still has) or Morri has a weapon/tool that Fearne is now ready for that requires some fraction of inherited power/ability from one like Zathuda.

(Honestly, I would have loved for Fearne to get cool fey stuff for her upgrades, really explore that background, and let Ashton keep all the titan stuff that fits into their background in canon. So I'm doing it here)

Nana helps Orym set up some cool (likely quite dangerous because it's Nana Morri) training stuff for Bells Hells. Probably with a focus on stealth and teamwork given the mission ahead of them where they will be sneaking and relying on each other more than ever.

Chetney makes his deal with Morri.

Ashton's shit does settle down in the couple of days Bells Hells takes there (it's only a few hours in Exandria since 104:6=17.3:1). Though there's probably some close calls at first, maybe even an Ashton Vessels rematch. His Echo patterns are slightly different now. There's (Perfect Copy) Volcano Genasi with Swords, (Mirrored Damage) Earth Genasi with Hammer, (No Damage) Fire Genasi with Pistols, and (Same Damage) Hishari Aasimar with Spear/Glaive. And the Demi-titan Form Echoes are Volcano Titan, Earth Titan, Fire Titan, and Lava Titan. Difference between Volcano and Lava is: Volcano is solid rock with lava veins, Lava is all liquid rock and goopy.

Laudna... might have trouble with connecting to All Minds Burn? Cross-dimensional communication can be tricky at the best of times. But if cut off from the hive, she does get to work on cultivating the psychic abilities it grants without a thousand other voices in her head by using her own strain of it.

Not entirely sure if Orym makes his deal here. Paladin is definitely less Just a Guy than Fighter, even if some of his levels are also in Inquisitive Rogue. On the other hand: Baby Dunamantic Volcano Titan, Baby Archfey of Fire, Exaltant Ruidusborn, Undead Member of a Psychic Fungal Hivemind, Old Man Werewolf, and Ancient Murderbot vs Halfling with a Little Faith Magic (Mostly Smite). Though I will say: Insightful Fighting's Sneak Attack without Advantage+Smite would absolutely wreck house. Sneak Attack+Smite on a Crit? Devastating.

So I think any further decision on Orym's deal is going to have to wait until we see what Orym actually got from his canon deal: spells/abilities(warlock level?) or a free Call Nana card (or like, a general immortality for the group).

And of course, there's room for inter-party drama during their break/training montage.

Then it's back to Exandria for the Moon Scouting Mission!

[temmtamm]

I'm going to regret this-

♰𓁹BELOS ROMANTIC HEADCANONS𓁹♰

(Asks are open and appreciated)

First of all, let's get one thing out there. This relationship is abusive. Like, nothing about it is healthy.

He never expected to have romantic relations on the isles- and well, granted you really didn't initiate anything besides just being a loyal follower that was also not afraid to not put up with his bullshit, but the man is old and never had a crush ever in his life so he assumed you were using witch temptress/er powers or whatever.

Despite saying he would never stoop to such levels and wouldn't dare fall to such obvious tricks, guess who was the one who confessed?

It was an awkward confession and it sounded more like he was accusing you of casting some cruel love spell.

Mf fucking kins the hellfire song.

If your a witch, he will go out of his way to slight you slightly to where you just think you have bad luck. It doesn't matter if he does genuinely love you, a part of him will still hate your witch side.

If your human, he is noticeably kinder cause he's racist like that/hj

He is very controlling and obsessive of his SO and will not let them in on his plans unless he knows they are 100% loyal to him.

Manipulation has practically became an addiction of his so even if he does actually love you, he will manipulate you into doing dirty work for him.

He rarely shows any physical affection. He might give you a kiss on the cheek once in a blue moon but that's it.

Unless you really, really want it and won't stop whining, he will absolutely not cuddle nor just lay down and spend a lazy day with you. Every day should be productive in his eyes.

If you know anything about memes and call him "peepaw" he will be so confused.

Like ??? You two have been dating for forever now, of course he's not your peepaw/grandpa.

Once he kinda gets it, he may just give you a playful nickname back, but thats more so to just get back at you for doing that.

If your a human, it's probably dork

If your a witch, it's probably pointy ears

If you can't tell, he's not the best at childish name calling.

Something that's kinda wholesome is that if he has permission to dress you up, he likes to try and dress you like you were in the 1700's.

He isn't very alarmed at others making moves on you. He's aware of his status and he knows if he just so much as looks at the suitors, they'd take off.

Though, if you get too much attention he might just decide to keep you in the castle more often.

He will have the coven heads babysit you if he's busy and if they whine, he uses the "it's the Titans will" as an excuse.

Despite him not being the best partner like at all, I'd like to think that he wouldve taken you with him to the human realm. Though, if you're a witch, that means hed probably chip down your ears before you two leave

Thanks for reading~