Thinking about Jason's outward expression of emotions. He tends to only get angry as a response to perceived injustice (the same way Bruce, Dick and most of the others do). But unlike some other characters, Jason rarely every gets wound up in it, nor does he get angry even when he sees injustice if the situation doesn't call for it. Some characters get angry first and then manage their response to whatever's more appropriate, but my interpretation has always been than Jason doesn't need to because he doesn't often begin with the rage. It's not a default, instinctual response for him in most situations. It seems to be that he becomes angry when there is a perpetrator (and specifically, of a crime that hurt people with less power than the perpetrator has, in some way) towards whom he can direct that righteous anger (righteous as in the cause is his drive for justice. I'm not discussing the rightfulness right now). Can he hurt the man who was about to hurt a woman enough that he doesn't dare to try imposing his power over another woman again? Can he do something, anything to stop a serial rapist who has already caused the suicide of at least one woman? But he doesn't possess the sort of blinding anger that could become a driving motivator for his actions outside of someone in front of him to punish. He doesn't need the anger (mostly because he will instead fixate on the crime without rage to fuel him).
The notable exception to this being his behaviour preceding his death (which is explicitly referred to as atypical for Jason by both Bruce and Alfred. The whole reason he's forced to take a break from Robin is because that anger is so unusual for Jason that Bruce and Alfred are worried about Jason's mental wellbeing).
We see in Lost Days that Jason’s default state has become (to the concern of Talia and Ra’s) seemingly unfeeling, and he shows signs of a persistent flat affect throughout Lost Days, with exceptions for when he sees injustice (which is responsive, as compared to the aloofness he uses as a constant state of defence -> see: his and Talia’s conversation after he killed for the first time, Talia being glad that his sense of empathy and justice were able to overcome his general coldness). Jason's aloofness was entirely a conscious defence, but at times he was consciously exercising it (his reaction to Tim in front of Talia vs alone).
We see him cry for himself a few times, which tends to be how Jason first reacts to what hurts him deeply. Then there's his cold hatred for Bruce, which can be taken as anger in the face of heartbreak and perceived betrayal. But that anger never goes very far: Jason couldn't even make himself blow up the batmobile. In the end, it's Jason's belief that he hates Bruce and must make demands of Bruce to force him to redeem himself in Jason's esteem that fuels him. Because Jason wants Bruce to redeem himself, even if it's unlikely that he will.
All throughout Lost Days and UTRH, Jason uses teasing/biting humour in a very Robin manner to direct attention to whatever he pleases, whether that be pulling attention away from vulnerabilities or drawing attention to distortions of the truth. This habit returns to Jason strongly around times when he breaks out of his apathetic state (when he’s killing people who hurt others, pretty much), but the undertones of coldness and derision even with that humour don’t leave. We can see in this habit especially how Jason's become a distortion of who he was as Robin. He's still witty and he still teases people and you can hear the humour in his voice. But now he's using that wit to say cruel things to Batman, deceiving him constantly, and his voice no longer has a youthful kindness to it.
One of the most Helena-esque character traits that Jason’s picked up (in fanon and reboot canon) is anger as an initial defence and reaction, actually. It’s nearly the opposite of Jason’s pre-flashpoint defensive state but is essential to Helena’s. It’s actually not surprising that this happened (even ignoring reboot kicking Jason’s character into a closet and superimposing much of Helena onto him) because of how DC pushed “angry” as Jason’s defining trait, and how fans have believed it for so long. It seems almost natural for a misconception this severe to happen, even in the face of evidence to the contrary, because every action of Jason’s is misconstrued as proof for an angry temperament.
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masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.
gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.
gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.
gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.
his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.
gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.
gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.
he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.
being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.
enough to feel it with his whole body.
gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.
gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.
gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.
he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.
dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.
nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.
he never feels it. he never feels anything.
satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.
pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.
he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.
he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.
white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.
it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.
or he thinks it does, anyways.
sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.
heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.
he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.
it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.
always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.
love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.
it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.
so gojo stays untouchable. distant.
but the hunger doesn't go away. never.
he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.
but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.
gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.
touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.
if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.
they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.
gojo is hungry, so hungry.
please feed him.
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