#So it's based on a theoretically canon character

[cathalbravecog]

the twins being twins

(and cassie debut..? her design may change but I've been stuck on her for a year and I finally have a result im fairly happy with ^^)

[arolesbianism]

I've been passively watching an isat playthrough while twiddling my thumbs in my current oni save as I wait for my new power systems to be done and hey guys. I think one of these bitches is aromantic. Why did no one tell me one of these bitches is aromantic I would have played the game myself if I knew that

[vidavalor]

I don't think that The Kiss is the big reveal in The Final 15.

Neither is Aziraphale getting into the lift/elevator.

The very last thing we hear-- Tori Amos' cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"-- being the song Crowley hears in The Bentley?

That's actually the biggest thing in 2.06.

It's arguably one of the biggest reveals in the series to date. How so?

Because this moment canonizes that "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is not only a song that the show chose to play over the end of S1 for only the audience to hear... it is, indisputably, Crowley and Aziraphale's song.

This moment says that they have a song.

This moment says that their song contains lyrics about being "so in love" that "the whole world seemed upside down."

This moment says, without any doubt, that they're already a couple.

It exists in a way that completely undercuts any idea that the kiss that occurred a few moments prior was their first one-- even as the story is also designed in such a way as to lead some viewers to think that it might be.

This moment takes the heavily-evidenced-but-still-kinda-theoretical and makes it clear to the audience that they were correct about what they put together about Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship to this song in S1.

It says that when we heard the pianist in The Ritz scene in 1.06 playing an instrumental version of this song? As we suspected, it wasn't a coincidence. As of 2.06, we can go ahead and see that bit of S1 for what it was-- that she was playing it because Crowley and Aziraphale had requested it, wanting to hear their song.

It says that those of us whose ideas that this song might have meaning to Crowley and Aziraphale based off of Aziraphale's "dine at The Ritz" in 1967 and the song containing the lyrics about angels dining at The Ritz, along with how much of a relationship conversation 1967 is, were correct.

It says that Crowley and Aziraphale have a song. A romantic one, with unambiguous lyrics about being in love. A song they already had prior to S1 because they requested it at The Ritz in the S1 finale. A song they already had prior to 1967, when Aziraphale was using its lyrics as shorthand between them.

In S1, Tori Amos' cover of their song was used non-diegetically over the end of the season-- meaning, only we could hear it. The characters could not. Clues existed that the song had meaning to them but we didn't have overt proof of that in S1.

We do now.

We do as of the end of S2, where the same cover of the song was used diegetically. It's now one that Crowley can hear as well as we can, as The Bentley plays it for him. Likely because Aziraphale asked it to. It now exists within the characters' story-- not just as music playing for our benefit over their story.

I think that this ten or so seconds of the song playing when Crowley gets into The Bentley are given to us so we can reframe our ideas of what is going on-- especially what was happening in The Kiss scene-- around this knowledge.

Like most of Good Omens' important things, it's a narrative magic trick. It's information relevant to what came before it that is only received later. Its existence then changes the context of the prior scenes and recontextualizes our understanding of what we were watching.

Right now, the audience is looking mostly here:

And, if they're not, they're looking over here:

And there's certainly much to look at in those both of those moments, for sure, but... the actual last moment of S2 is the big thing. It's the one that says that this isn't a story about a couple that has never gotten together; this is a story about a forbidden, secret romance.

They're a couple who has spent their existence pretending they're not one-- not to one another but to the world. The last few years? Not really, as Crowley said... but, also, not really openly, either. There's a South Downs Cottage with their name on it in The Finale, though...

[sundrop-writes]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Yuu is gender neutral in the game for many reasons so it makes me wonder if Yuu was a girl in Conan would that change the dialogues and the way the characters interact with her?

Like not a major change to the main story or turning the game into otome but some small ones like in some characters interaction with Leona when stepping on his tail he won't want to beat us (because of the respect woman thing lol) in book one or Deuce being shy in the beginning of their friendship.

Hmm... For the most part, I honestly don't really think so? Cater still calls Yuu cute, Azul is still pretty polite, etc. Rook still waxes poetic and creepily recites your sizes, etc. regardless of gender. At best, maybe some of those traits would be exaggerated a little more or expanded on to suit the scenario?? Like maybe Ace would initially tease fem!Yuu about being at an all-boys school or something, isn't she bothered by it? But I really doubt that anyone would be tripping over themselves to protect or befriend fem!Yuu or anything, especially when most at NRC are primarily concerned with their own interests. Most of the characters aren't noted to treat women particularly differently than other genders. We also don't get to see the NRC students interacting with girls around their age either, so it's hard to discern how they'd be with them. I think even the "Deuce being shy in the beginning of the friendship" headcanon comes from a perspective colored by writings in fandom; Deuce in canon doesn't really seem to demonstrate major issues interacting with girls, at least not that I can recall. At best, he expresses surprise when Grim mistakes Epel for a girl and fails to romance the Ghost Bride (he freezes up and his mind blanks; it’s difficult to say this is how he’d act around most women or if he just acts this way due to the demands of the situation). Deuce does mention in Ace’s Suitor Suit vignettes that he mainly interacts with his mom, as most girls—and guys—would run away from him due to how intimidating he was. He says he gets nervous about hurting girls’ feelings, though this is in reference to faking a proposal and not romance or interactions in general. I think if we eliminated romantic interest altogether--because, to be clear, one girl in a cast of mainly guys is NOT always meant to be romantic or a harem--most of the cast would be their usual selves, if not maybe a little more polite due to how they’ve been socialized to see women as the “fairer” sex. For example, Riddle, Epel, and Jade underestimate Sally, though this isn’t clear if it’s gender-based or because they sympathize with her poor home life. They may also be instances of the guys not really knowing how to deal with girls? For example, Trey fails to help Sally up after she has fallen (which Sebek chastises him for); Trey later admits that he doesn't know many women beyond his mother and sister who is 4 years younger than him. Because of this, he says it may be that he was subconsciously nervous to interact with her.

The exception to this, many would point out, is Leona, who comes from a country in which women are respected. The strange thing is, whenever this point is mentioned, I always see people speaking about it in relation to Leona and Leona only, even though Ruggie and Rook also come from the Sunset Savanna (so technically those latter two would also theoretically be respectful to women). Now, there's a lot of discussion in the fandom about just how far Leona's "feminism" (a term used by fandom, never said in official materials) stretches. The most extreme of takes paint Leona as a misandrist who actively hates on or mistreats men while upholding women as superiors. And that... Well, I don't agree with this interpretation whatsoever. Yes, Leona no doubt respects women and is more likely to listen to them if they ask him to do something (for example, attending a party for a female painting in Cater's School Uniform vignette or taking a picture of himself in his robes for his sister-in-law in his own Ceremonial Robes vignettes). However, he won't just keel over and do whatever is asked of him simply because it is coming from a woman (think back to Ghost Marriage; he was still pretty pissed off when Eliza slapped him), and nor is he shown to disparage his own gender.

Rather than putting women on a pedestal, I think it would be more accurate to say that Leona doesn't underestimate women or think lesser of them because of their gender. (If you're interested my detailed breakdown of "feminist" Leona, check out this analysis.) For example, while his classmates worry for Sally's wellbeing in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Leona lauds Sally's cunning and ability to save herself. We also get a pretty good look of this in the Episode of Savanaclaw manga, which features a female Yuu. (And before anyone says, "Yuuka could be hiding the fact she's a girl!", take a look at these panels. She is clearly not making an effort to hide her chest and given her nonchalant personality + ability to physically defend herself, Yuuka has no in-universe reason to be hiding her gender. The other students probably don’t bring up that she’s a girl because she’s already been around at NRC for roughly a month at this point and have likely acclimated to her presence. Besides, people don’t normally bring up “well, that’s a girl” out of the blue in everyday conversations.)

Riddle seems to treat Yuuka the same as the gender-neutral Yuu in the game; he still adjusts her tie for her without any flourishes, flinching, etc.

If you read the Episode of Savanaclaw altogether, pretty much all of the characters treat Yuuka like another fellow student and not "oh, this is a woman and a woman has to be treated differently".

Leona stops Savanaclaw mobs from beating up Yuuka and co., but this isn't significant because he does the same for gender-neutral Yuu in the game. It's not "I stopped the guys from hurting a woman" behavior. And get this: Leona still challenges Yuuka and co. to a magift/spelldrive game and he STILL kicks their asses and expects them to get up for more. He doesn't give even Yuuka special treatment or leniency because she is a woman. He wants her to play him again, the same as the other students (who are all guys). It is Jack who has to intervene and stop his dorm leader from bullying Yuuka and co.—but again, this isn’t a change from the game, as Jack always steps in anyway.

Yuuka recognizes Leona as "the garden caretaker" from back when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Unfortunately, we don't get to see if Leona attempted to attack her from this instance. It could be that the manga excluded it because he didn't try or it could be that he did (if the magift/spelldrive demands were of any indication) and the manga just didn't have time to show it in full. Buuut we should also note that Leona makes exceptions to his own... "moral code" when it is convenient for him. For example, he tells his students to not pick on outsiders but then still wails on us through sport. When Yuu steps on his tail in the garden, he says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless," but then adds, "Still gonna do it, though."

My point is, this is the closest we'll get to "how would the boys treat a fem!Yuu", and that's what I'll leave you with.

[foibles-fables]

thinking once again about the delicious concept of Talanah having deeper and more numerous hang-ups about sex than Aloy would...

When it comes to the act itself, at least. We all know Aloy has a metric fuckton of interpersonal baggage to work through, and she's certainly gotten started on that. But I think, in an early established relationship with the two of them on equal ground communication-wise, she'd be way more clearheaded about the act of sex specifically.

The Nora are an incredibly sex-positive tribe, as long as it don't result in babies outside of a sanctioned mate blessing. They use contraceptives liberally ("my sister stopped taking her tea!") and same-sex couplings are accepted and not outside of the social norm. While the tribal leadership is a matriarchy specifically based on the merit of having progeny, the rest of their society is an egalitarian one.

Rost, as a devout Nora, would've felt the same way about sex. And he would have impressed these ideas upon Aloy--with frankness, with no nonsense or baggage (since there's no social backing for it)--in preparation for her to join the tribe after her Proving, as was his wish. I think any angst Aloy would have about sex would be connected to her heaps of internalized otherness rather than upbringing--but if that was settled beforehand, I don't think she'd feel shame about the act itself.

The Carja, on the other hand. lmao.

Unlike the Nora, we don't have a canon outline of their attitude toward sex specifically--however, one can infer that it would fall into the rest of their patriarchal societal structure. They're kinda Catholic-lite, if you will, but make it the Sun. Only a couple blips of ambient dialogue give reference to it and they're mostly played for idle laughs.

We know Talanah herself is a badass and hellbent on breaking social barriers--but I think it's also interesting to view her through the lens of also being a product of not only Carja society at large, but also a noble upbringing. I just think it's fascinating, character-wise, to think of her having no shame or trepidation about kicking down the door of the Lodge--but still having to fight internalized shame about sex, when it comes down to it. Obviously, that wouldn't be a part of her everyday behavior we've seen portrayed. But it's just so compelling to think about from a theoretical standpoint.

AND it ties pretty much directly into the Comphet Talanah Hypothesis. Shame about sex is one thing--shame about having and/or wanting to have sex with women is another thing entirely. To me, in-game evidence points to the idea that the Carja are at least somewhat tolerant of same-sex couples in the peasantry. But I do see it being viewed as very very very much against the grain for the upper class, because noble patriarchy. Not downright condemned as sinful in and of itself, but regarded and responded to with an extreme amount of otherness as one falls out of line re: their "rightful duty" to their Khane. For a noble who is gay, lots of repression, lots of internalized homophobia.

So consider Talanah. Already othered to the point of some pretty bitter social rejection, as we see in HZD. Why would she, as a noble with the ingrained upbringing that comes with it, want to embrace that part of herself and bring more otherness upon herself? If she's going to feel shame about sex and baggage about sexual relationships, wouldn't it just be easier to make herself take the path of least resistance and have it be with a man? Because at least that's what she's supposed to do. Right? And she barely even has the language for anything else. Even though she's never really done anything she's "supposed to do" before. Maybe it would just be better to do that, for once. But why does that feel so wrong? Why does it feel like she's going against herself? Why does the thought of being with a man actually make her recoil? That’s what she’s supposed to want, isn’t it? After everything why does this make her want to hide? Why can't she stop thinking about Aloy? Aloy's hands, Aloy's mouth? Why can't this one Sun-damned thing just be easy?

Just. Ough. I love that this concept puts another line of give and take into their developing relationship. Talanah helping Aloy come further out of her internalized isolation through shared experience--Aloy helping Talanah come out of her internalized sexual shame and homophobia thanks to her own lack of baggage surrounding the two.

I have so many moment-specific headcanons about all of this BUT this is already long enough so I'll just spare you and leave you with the meta. for now. (that's a threat)

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Eras in an Ongoing Canon

Something I've been thinking about recently, as I've been writing SxF fic for about one year, is the inherent uncertainty of writing for an ongoing canon as the characters evolve gradually with each new arc Endo creates.

For example, Twilight. We can joke about how the man is taking forever to acknowledge he loves his family, and the slow slow slow burn of Twiyor. But after 100+ chapters, he is indeed different from where he started. Chapter 1, he was willing to return a poor little kid to the orphanage like a defective toy when he realized she might not be a prodigy as he originally thought. He also left her at home alone and literally barricaded the door to keep her there.

Later, he acknowledges the trauma she must have faced as an orphan and becomes hyper-sensitive to little signs like how she arranges the sand table in his office (even if he reads her completely wrong).

By the time exams roll around, he avoids criticizing her for the Tonitrus bolt in math and gives her a genuine smile for her achievement in classical language, appreciating how she worked really hard.

With Yor, when he initially met her, he told himself he would figure out a way to trap her in the marriage if needed for the sake of the mission. Luckily he didn't have to do that, but the fact he remains that he was theoretically willing to. Then every ten to twenty chapters or so, Yor does something to surprise him with her kindness and strength and unconventional understanding of the world, and he grows to trust her and care for her wellbeing, to the point of taking a bullet for her and sparing Yuri.

In another 100 chapters, or by the end of the manga, whenever that will be, how much more will Twilight change?

As fan creators, how will our imagination of these characters change by then? Will we remember how we viewed season 1 Twilight? The fics we wrote and the characterizations we gave him? How about season 1 Yor, who had an obsession with knives and tended to imagine murder as the solution to any problem she couldn't solve immediately?

My main frame of reference is the ATLA fandom and how the characterization of Zuko and the flavor of Zutara fics changed over three seasons. Fics written during season 1 sometimes characterized him as a dark brooding villain with the trope of capturing or threatening Katara, mixed with uncomfortable power dynamics. Fics written during season 2 cast him as more vulnerable and uncertain, imagining how he might join Team Avatar, as we started to see him as the immature teenage dork he was all along. By season 3, immature teenage dork took over much of his fanfic persona as he finally joined the good guys in canon and added a fresh dynamic to the team. Fans wrote lots of friendship and redemption fics, diving into how he reconciled with Katara and won her over as a friend before pursuing her romantically.

I haven't participated in the ATLA fandom for a long time, but I imagine that few writers now will write fics based on season 1 Zuko, at least not with the fan-imagined version of him that was popular back then. Too much has changed about his canon character to make that palatable.

So, I wonder what it'll be like years from now when Twilight and Yor and other characters are notably different. What will it be like to look back on fanfics written in 2022-2025? Will we still enjoy them easily, or will we have to suspend disbelief as they'll feel like AUs with OOC characters?

Part of me feels sad about this, but I suppose this is always the risk of writing for an ongoing canon! At least I am not the only one risking so much of my own time on creating these stories out of love for these characters.

[tsams-and-co-memes]

TEAPS Eclipse Canon Info

Updated - 9/7/24

Eclipse's likes:

Cyberpunk (the aesthetic, I’m assuming)

Scaring children (<- possibly a past iteration of him enjoyed scaring kids, but it's unknown if he still feels that way)

Anything SCP related

Glowing (according to a statement he made once. He could've been lying though, so I'm not sure)

Kids (<- this was mumbled, and it's possible that it was sarcasm)

Papers, Please (it's one of his favorite games)

Theoretical physics

Puzzles (he likes things that help keep the mind sharp)

Eclipse's dislikes:

Being ignored

Tattletail

Bloodmoon

Humans (he thinks they're disgusting)

Miscellaneous:

Eclipse’s birthday is June 1st

He watches anime. At the very least, we know he’s watched Re: Zero

It was Eclipse's happy thoughts that spawned Lunar (according to Lunar himself)

He may possibly have an interest in the backrooms/the backrooms lore, since he teleported Sun and Moon to places similar or identical to the backrooms

He can be picky about thematic character names (ex: Potion Permit NPCs having names based on their jobs, like Mayor Myer)

He finds a decent amount of attraction appeal in military-esque attire

He's the tiniest bit vain, even seeing art of himself in military attire and saying, "I will say, it is rather pleasant to see me in such a... Uniform. Very much.”

Before dying, Eclipse had made attempts to study the astral bodies

Eclipse's body is made from parts of fazcade arcade machines

He doesn't care about fashion or media

Eclipse's rays don't move

Eclipse knows how to drive

Eclipse implied that he's dealt with vampires before (the implication was either vampires or Bloodmoon)

Eclipse is/has been studying theoretical physics. Not for a specific reason, aside from the fact that it interests him

Eclipse doesn't watch any shows

He has a tendency to push away anyone that he starts getting close with

[jesncin]

If you had to rank all the justice league fams ( superfam, batfam, martianfam, etc ) from least favorite to most favorite, how would you do it ?

Ooh I'm not familiar with all the cape-fams that well so I don't know how much of a proper ranking I can do, so here's just a random vibes tier list:

Martianfam: In canon (i guess this consists of just J'onn and M'gann, Jem if we're reaching), they're a mess. I'll save this for the 2nd part of the upcoming Ma'al essay, but Martianfam's biggest problem is having undefined relationships that don't take advantage of a proper family dynamic. Canonically F tier. However,,,I'm obsessed with my version of Martianfam so that bias puts Martianfam in theoretical S tier.

Superfam: So much potential in this fam to be generational immigrant/diaspora angst and tension only for canon to be so uncreative with the legacy characters (minus Kong Kenan). This fam suffers from overreliance on clones and alternate universe versions of existing characters tied to Clark's Kryptonian genes (the adopted twins, Kong, and the Steels are a good change of pace). Jon and Conner (and sometimes even Kara) are suffering being, what I like to call, a "Clark Kent factory product". They're too scared to make these boys different from dad. Conner Superboy is in limbo with Jon taking over. What is going on with Powergirl being infantilized now. However,,, if the immigrant allegory was critically applied to Superfam? Theoretical S tier. Canonically C tier.

Batfam: Undoubtedly the strongest of the cape-fams in DC. Even with their flaws and how they've been modernized, this is still the blueprint. What's there cultivates an intense fanbase and there's such a diversity in the backgrounds of each Batfam member and how they evolved. Each member has a unique relationship with Bruce, many characters are capable of sustaining their own solos, they have relationships with each other, gosh it's a lot. I'm affectionately putting this in A tier, shaving some points off for stuff like erasing Babs' disability, characters like Steph but especially Duke being sidelined, the girls being infantilized as the boys get to grow into men, whitewashing Damian, etc.

Wonderfam: I can only speak based on vibes here, but gosh you deserve so much better, Wonderfam. I feel like each member should deeply explore a new facet of womanhood different from Diana to freshen up each time a new legacy character joins the Wonderfam (Nubia's great at this from what I've seen). I love that this fam includes Themyscirans and sometimes ordinary girls (even if that gets retconned a bunch). I eyeroll from a distance whenever it's really obvious that the male-dominated writers of DC try adding men into Wonderfam as a means of focusing attention away from women (cough Diana's bro). But also. Kick Trinity out of Wonderfam. I have never seen a character so universally behated but I get it. Unfortunately D tier. I want better for this fam though.

GL fam: Really good! They're a unique fam in that being a part of the GL corp means being a part of the fam, so you get people from all sorts of backgrounds that don't have to be related to a main character. Theoretically this can even extend to other lantern colors whenever the GLs team up with baddies like Razer or Sinestro. You can arrange different groups or pairs of GLs to form their own Star-Trek esque team. And that's such a fun time when that happens. I'm not in GL fandom enough to know the nuances of some narrative flaws or anything, so I'm giving the GL fam a vibes based S tier. They just work! And they're unique while doing it.

Flashfam: I can only speak based on vibes here but whatever's going on with Flash fam just looks like such a fun time. From what I've seen and read, so many of the characters are funny and endearing. I love that there are many twins in this fam. That's just a bias for me. My biggest nitpick with Flashfam is that it suffers from over-convoluted origin stories. That's kind of a problem baked into the dough when your powers intersect with time travel, but it adds a layer of inaccessibility when some of the character's backstories are so convoluted. Vibes based B tier.

Aquafam: Mostly vibes based impression again since I don't really go here but I've met the characters a good amount of times. Arthur has a special theoretical space in my heart as someone borne of two cultures. We're here for that mixed diaspora struggle. I enjoy the rivalry he has with his brother, I think Mera has a lot of potential as a love interest and wifeguy (and she has an evil twin so, bonus in my book), and aquababy. Hah. I enjoy the many ways Aqualad has been reinterpreted across media. However! Kaldur/Jackson is definitely the most interesting addition to the family, imo! I'm all for villains or villain-adjacent characters being on Team Hero. I also like Black Manta. Petty baddie we respect. Uuh vibes based B tier. I'll theoretically bump this up to S tier if all Aquafam members walked out of the ocean to the H20 "Just Add Water" theme song.

Arrowfam: I'm embarrassingly unknowledgeable with Arrowfam members so we're doing vibes. On vibes they're like Batfam adjacent but sound way more interesting. Oliver Queen is a great messy character, and I like seeing each member have a different complex relationship to him. I'm very endeared to Roy/Arsenal/Speedy, his villain will-they-won't-they romance and baby dad plot is inherently interesting. I also love Connor Hawke!! Blasian ace king fr. And I adore Black Canary. She has so much going on and still checks in on this fam too. Idk if it's controversial of me, but A tier based on vibes.

Constantinefam: SIKE this loser doesn't have friends or family they're all dead. S tier. If DC is pushing DC!Johnstantine into a family or partnership dynamic with JL Dark, Zatanna, or Xanthe Zhou? Theoretical F tier.

Haha this was fun to write, thank you for the fun ask! Nice to ramble about the various fams of the DC world.

[fernsnouveau]

I actually disliked the direction where I'd recently seen a bunch of the more reasonable S5-critical ML fandom people going. Those discussions and analyses were spiraling increasingly towards demonising Marinette over time, as we were left hanging with the s5 ending for a long time, and the fandom had nothing new to talk about.

I actually liked her flaws.

But then the canon does... this...

And I do admit, it's an in-character way to push Marinette towards a villain arc. Like, if I had to construct a darkfic scenario where Marinette goes evil and try to keep it as close to her canon personality as possible, it would look something like this. Which, I guess, means that it's theoretically easier for me to accept than, for example, S5's occasional incidents of Edgy Murderboy Chat Noir (how is that the same character who had TWO guilt-based mental breakdowns about accidentally cataclysming someone completely out of his control, including the main villain??!). I'm sure there are in-character ways to turn Adrien (or anyone else) into a villain, but Murder-Noir was Not It.

Of course another reason why the writing of Murder-Noir gives me extra heebie jeebies, was how it felt like an abuse apologia excuse, validating Gabriel's accusations for Adrien to not "deserve" autonomy, nor to experience or express any negative, inconvenient emotions. Murder-Noir feels like it's a writing choice directed at child abuse victims in the audience, who related to Adrien. "See, your abuser was right, you're horrible and overly emotional and out of control, so you NEED to be rigidly controlled for your own and everyone else's good!

Anyway.

While I admit that Marinette taking up Gabriel's mantle this way is technically in character, I cannot claim to enjoy the writing choice at all. I liked Marinette's flaws. I wanted to explore them. I did not want her demonised to this extent. She could have been meaningfully flawed without becoming better at being Gabriel, than Gabriel himself was!

After this, the only justification for the lovesquare to stay together, would be as a wish-fulfillment or "reward" for Marinette, and that's not enough for me. When I think about, if there was a real-life abuse victim in Adrien's position (minus the supernatural elements), and then they were friends with, and/orstarted dating someone who repeatedly treated them the way Maribug has been doing (and "repeatedly" is important here, it demonstrates unwillingness to learn from mistakes and be sincere about apologies – S4 was brushed under a rug as soon as Chat Noir superficially forgave!), ESPECIALLY but not only siding with the abusive parent and lying to the victim that the abuse they experienced was "not really abuse" and For Their Own Good, and demonstrated this complete infantilisation and lack of respect for the abuse victim, wanting to see them only as a palatable, innocent fairytale being who's not allowed to be inconvenient, express negative emotions, make informed choices mor generally be a complete person...

Obviously the right thing to do, for the abuse victim, would be to get the hell away from that person.

It does NOT mean that the person is irredeemable. They're just... not owed the abuse victim's forgiveness and continued presence in their life.

And I can't ignore that anymore.

We failed to get an arc about Adrien surviving and escaping Gabriel and healing. He has now been put into a position where, in order to ever be okay, he would have to survive and escape Marinette in order to heal.

I don't like this. It feels very hopeless and bleak and unenjoyable. I don't even think the story is gonna go there and free/heal Adrien (Astruc made it clear that Adrien isn't supposed to be his own character or have agency, he's supposed to be Marinette's accessory and that's never gonna change).

But as far as I'm concerned, any excuse for the lovesquare relationship to get back together after this, would have the unpalatable aftertaste of propaganda to make victims return to their abusers.

I don't like this trajectory!!!

[witchyafterdark]

Consolidated HL Character Profile #1:

— Ominis Gaunt —

Note: The following information on this post are a combination of my personal headcanons and canon-compliant resources. I have done research on this but, of course, these are pure speculation since we do not have actual canon information about this character. I hope you all enjoy this! 💕

Tags and shout-outs are at the end of this post!

This is a very, very long post! Take your time.

—---—---—---—---—

I. Possible Birth Place

The last of the Gaunts, as we know it, have lived in poverty. The members of this once noble house trickled down to Marvolo Gaunt and his two children — Merope and Morfin.

According to the book, (Half-Blood Prince; Chapter 10, "The House of Gaunt") the family was living in a rundown shack that Harry Potter wondered whether it was inhabited, or not.

"... its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime."

The description of the Gaunts' living conditions were shown during Bob Ogden's visit in Little Hangleton around the early 1920's. As the wiki suggests, Ominis should already be in his late 40's (and close to his supposed death). It was also said that due to their vein of instability, arrogance, and pride, the family gold has been squandered well before the last generations were born.

Now, based on the canon timeline, there is a high chance that Ominis and Marvolo were siblings — something this fandom seems to agree on.

"Chronologically, Marvolo Gaunt could be one of the elder siblings who tortured Ominis with the Cruciatus Curse."

However, I personally find it hard to picture him having been born and raised in that same shack in Little Hangleton. While it's very possible to have a family living together in a small, decrepit house, it seems like there are more than four members of the second-to-the-last generation of Gaunts.

Ominis had both parents present, his Aunt Noctua, and older siblings (one of which could be Marvolo himself). That would be at least five family members living under one roof. I just find it a little difficult to believe that someone who is as kempt and posh-looking as Ominis would be living in a shack.

Also, he seems to be the least-favorite child based on how his parents and siblings have treated him. So, why would he have neat school robes if they couldn't really afford it, right? And why give the good clothes to the blind, black-sheep of the family?

This led me to think that maybe, they did have some money to spare during those times. Another accepted headcanon of the fandom is that the Gaunts needed to keep up with the façade that they are still rich and prominent by dressing up aristocratically and by speaking in a posh accent (which is called Received Pronunciation, also called the Queen's Accent).

Furthermore, we literally almost got the Gaunt Manor questline, with a courtyard, in the game but the developers cancelled it. This could be the proof that they have also thought of the fact that Ominis did not grow up, nor was he born, in a dilapidated shack.

—

But wait!

How and where did I start pinpointing the Gaunts' possible ancestral origins? Well, I found a theorized Timeline of Salazar Slytherin's Descendants compiled and analyzed by Obversa (whom I am a long-time fan of, and usual source of information). Please take a moment to check this part out:

[This is the Reddit link to the whole post!]

—

So... where do we start with Ominis' theoretical birth place? I have attached a map that is highlighted in different colors to make it easier to understand.

1. Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire (Highlighted in blue)

Situated at the center of the English map, one of the possible birthplaces of Ominis Gaunt is either Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire.

We know that the Gaunts were descendants of Cadmus Peverell, the original owner of the Resurrection Stone (a.k.a. The Heirloom Gaunt Ring). So, I got to trace back the origins of the last name Peverell, where they're from and which period they came to be.

According to House of Names, the Peverell line is one of the thousand new names that the Norman Conquest brought to England in the year 1066 CE.

William Peverell, the "natural son of William the Conqueror," received his share of 162 manors; many of which were in these two counties.

As stated from the pictured timeline above, Cadmus Peverell had been born at around the year 1214 CE.

A hundred and sixty-two manors under the Peverell family name alone seem like it's a possibility that the three Peverell brothers (Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus) inherited at least one of these manors as part of familial land distribution.

And once again, citing the timeline above, the Peverell line (at least in Cadmus' side) possibly ended with a female; who married a male Gaunt. It's likely that they moved to one of these manors as a start of the foundation of the House of Gaunt.

— An example in Derbyshire:

— An example in Nottinghamshire:

These two examples look like Gaunt Manor style, in my opinion. So far, I'm highly convinced that it's either Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire due to the manors being quite sequestered from city propers and large, populated towns.

2. Yorkshire (Encircled in red on the map)

This one is actually the suggestion of the lovely @diligentcranberry (Thank you for entertaining my unhinged obsession about the Gaunts origins).

It is said that Little Hangleton is approximately 200 miles north of Privet Drive. Now, Privet Drive is in Surrey. When I checked on the maps, York is directly north of Surrey; at around 203 miles, if you travel by foot.

There is also the possibility that perhaps the Gaunts simply moved towns instead of counties and cities. Maybe there is a magically hidden part of Yorkshire that is isolated enough to be far away from the muggles (or muggleborns) and nosy neighbors for them to conduct their wicked and inhumane past time activities: torturing muggles for sport.

Not only would this place be an ideal location for illicit activities, the density of trees around this area sounded like something the Gaunt family would like to have so that they are not easily accessible to anyone, including Ministry officials.

—

Runner-up Place: Godric's Hollow (Lined in pink on the map; the whole West Countryside)

There has been speculation that the Gaunts once resided in Godric's Hollow (as did other Wizarding families). Most people would also think that the Gaunts have ties to this place since one Peverell was buried here.

"Every now and then, he [Harry] recognized a surname that, like Abbott, he had met at Hogwarts. Sometimes, there were several generations of the same Wizarding family represented in the graveyard: Harry could tell from the dates that it had either died out, or the current members had moved away from Godric's Hollow."

The wiki even suggested that Godric's Hollow is Cadmus Peverell's final resting place. However, there is no canonical reference to this speculation. According to the book (The Deathly Hallows; Chapter 16, "Godric's Hollow"), Hermione only confirmed seeing Ignotus' tombstone. And while it was the norm to bury family members together in the same graveyard, we have no evidence that Cadmus was, in fact, buried alongside his brothers.

Lastly, official information from Wizarding World states that it was only Ignotus that had been found buried there, but no evidence pointed to where the others may be.

Runner-up Place: Leicestershire (Highlight in orange on the map)

This is actually the last place I researched because I remember that there was a man named John of Gaunt (1340-1399). He was the father of King Henry IV, and used to be one of the richest men of this century. I didn't find anything about him at first... until I saw who his wife was.

John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, had been married thrice in his lifetime. But it was his second wife, Constance of Castile (1354-1394) that piqued my interest.

Now, this sounds like a long-shot. But the theorized Timeline above proposed that Salazar Slytherin could be from Burgos, Castile, Spain. It wouldn't be totally impossible that Slytherin himself had children back in Spain; or that some of the children he sired during his stay in Scotland possibly moved back to Spain.

At least in my mind, there is a chance that Constance of Castile might be one of the descendants of Salazar Slytherin who ended up marrying a Gaunt.

Then again, Constance and John only had a surviving daughter, and the canonical information about the Peverell line was completely thrown out of the window with this theory. So, it's highly unlikely that this place was the ancestral origins of the future Gaunts. Still, this was fun to include!

—

End Results:

There is strong evidence that Ominis Gaunt may have been born in either Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, or Yorkshire. I know there's so much information to consider regarding this, so it's your decision which county you would use that fits your headcanons.

As for my personal headcanon, I'd say he's born in an ancestral manor that once belonged to the Peverells, which was located in Derbyshire.

But as the family fortune started to dwindle due to poor management, it ultimately fell unto Marvolo to sell the property and find another place to move to. And since Marvolo doesn't seem to be the type to find employment, the money he had gotten from the sold property almost immediately got used up. In the end, he and his remaining family had to move to that dilapidated shack in Little Hangleton, Yorkshire.

—---—---—---—---—

II. Possible Date of Birth

Note: If you're not interested in astrology, you can just skip this one, and go to Part 3, 4, and 5!

This section of the post is pure speculation, and no solid proof at all. But we do know that Ominis should be born between September 1, 1874 and August 31, 1875 if he was to be eleven years-old during the start of his first year at Hogwarts. Therefore, all of the following information is gathered by astrological observations of his character.

(I have a personal tarot and astrology account, @tarotwitchy, if you guys are interested in knowing more about this type of content).

Based on character analysis, I believe that Ominis is a Capricorn Sun, Pisces Moon, and Scorpio Rising.

Now, what does that mean?

Let's break down his character one astrological placement at a time.

1. Capricorn Sun

— a person with their Sun in Capricorn is someone who is determined to make the most out of their life. Hard working, perseverant, and resilient, they don't allow themselves to succumb in to their losses and admit defeat.

— Ominis surely displayed these characteristics throughout the game. He doesn't let his disability stop him from accomplishing the things he set his mind to. He doesn't want his traumatic beginnings to inhibit his potentiality for success and happiness outside of his family's customs. When he sets his mind on something, he sees through it (no pun intended).

— Also, he is loyal to the good cause. He knows what's right and what's wrong. He isn't afraid of calling out anyone for their wrongdoings, nor does he back off from confrontation. This behavior of his was very apparent when he secretly followed the new fifth-year and Sebastian to the catacombs.

— There's also a bit of a savior-complex in him; wherein he feels he could set someone straight, tell them what to do or what not to do, can have a demanding demeanor at times, and could perhaps want to control his environment to make it easier for him to navigate. (So, yes. All of those Dominis stories can actually be a canonical behavior of his).

2. Pisces Moon

— With all that was said about his Sun Sign, his Pisces Moon is the reason we get a softer, gentler version of his Capricorn. People with Pisces Moons are known to be emotionally wise beyond their years. Their ability to empathize people's experiences are astounding, and their compassion is matched only by their fellow water signs.

— This admirable kindness that Ominis possesses is what we eventually understand and come to associate with him. When faced with the opportunity to torture muggles like his family does, his first instinct is to refuse. In spite of his blindness, he doesn't need sight to see how all of that was very immoral and apathetic. And even as he was forced to cast the Cruciatus Curse, he still laments and regrets that event up to the present time.

— One more thing to note is that Ominis could have simply reported Sebastian as soon as the latter displayed interest in the Dark Arts. But he didn't because of three reasons: He didn't want to lose his best friend, he still believed in Sebastian's chance to redeem and pull himself out of the darkness, and he empathized with Sebastian's desperation to find a cure for Anne. This altruistic attitude is what's best about him.

— It also affirms my previous headcanon about Ominis' sleeping habits, as Pisces rules over the realms of sleep.

3. Capricorn Mercury

— It's very obvious that Ominis is quite mature for his age. The way he talks, thinks, and carries himself is trademark Capricorn Mercury. He is also straightforward and he plans ahead not just for himself but for others. At the end of the game, he literally said, "whatever lies ahead, we must face it together."

— Mercury is the planet of communication, intellect, memory, and learning. Ominis' style of communication is quite formal and authoritative in nature, and he keeps it that way. He is able to express himself in a put-together manner that conveys his thoughts crystal-clear. He doesn't speak in riddles (👀) and he wants to be understood the first time around.

4. Sagittarius Venus

— Alright, this one is a surprising placement for Ominis. But after a while, I found this to be quite fitting for him! While he is someone who we consider as "docile" or "serene" on most days, having his Venus in Sagittarius gives him a streak of curiosity and a yearning for exploration; as Sagittarius is the sign of higher learning and traveling.

— The first time we see him (if you're a Slytherin) is in the common room being cheeky about the first-years who are trying to spot mermaids through the windows. He has a playful side to him that balances out majority of his more serious and somber placements. The fact that he is closest to Sebastian (who is really fiery and passionate) is proof that Ominis can hold his own when it comes to his best friend's fervent personality.

— Of course, Venus is the planet of love and romance. Majority of the stories I've read, Ominis is the kind of man who will study his partner's personality, routine, habits, quirks, likes and dislikes, special interests, and goals and dreams. This is the behavior of a well-developed Sagittarius Venus. They will absolutely love to get to know their partner's personhood beyond the superficial. They will also keep their partnership alive by sharing life experiences together and encouraging their partner to explore more novel and romantic moments with them.

5. Scorpio Mars

— Where to begin with this placement? It's quite hard to believe, at first, that Ominis would have his Mars in Scorpio. That would entail someone who is traditionally brusque, aggressive, and would embody the combination of Martian-Plutonian qualities.

— But in his case, there is a reason why people are compelled to write, draw, and express him as Dominis. It's because even if he haven't actually seen him being a dominant man, we instinctively know that he is capable of it. That's the effect of Scorpio Mars. The evidence of this placement is not always "in your face." It can be subtle, it can be a secret. His dominance and assertiveness is just dancing along the edge of his skin.

— But one of the most important things to remember about them is that once a Scorpio Mars has had enough, they snap. And they will always get the last word after they have put people in their place, snapped some bones, and razed the earth. And this is something Ominis is very much capable of doing. But his self-control is immaculate.

6. Scorpio Rising

— Again, this seems very unlikely at first glance. But upon further observation, Ominis is the type of guy you don't really know much about unless he purposefully let you in on his private circle, explicitly says something about himself. He also has strong eyes that pierce through others in spite of his blindness. His striking face and cheekbones are unforgettable, and he doesn't look like anyone else. Others also can't help but feel compelled to want to know more about him, as his enigmatic aura inevitably pulls them in (whether he likes it, or not. That's why most Scorpio Risings have trouble with unsolicited attention).

— To drive this point further, if you check out this video of other NPC's talking about him, they all seem to come to a polarized conclusion, with the common thread of 'Ominis is hiding something.' Granted that the name Gaunt, in and of itself, strikes fear and wary in people's hearts, others have really strong opinions about him without even getting to know him personally. That, too, is something most Scorpio Risings struggle with.

—

End Results:

Ominis Gaunt was born on January 11, 1875 at around 03:00AM, during the winter season.

Of course, this is only my personal headcanon, and based on my astrological research and experience. The runner-up dates I had in mind would make him fall in the Sun Sign of Pisces, Cancer, Aquarius, and even Scorpio! But the rest of the chart doesn't really align with the rest of his personality. Ultimately, January 11th is the final date I believe suits him most.

—---—---—---—---—

III. Psychometric Analysis

Note: I will be linking the sites for these tests should you want to take them yourself! 😊 Have fun!

1. MBTI

— ISTJ (Introvert, Sensing, Thinking, Judging)

"They rely on their past experience to guide them, and are most comfortable in familiar surroundings. On personality trait measures, they score as Calm, Stable, Steady, Cautious, and Conventional. The ISTJ’s main and most admirable strength is perseverance; people of this type simply do not give up. They also have a natural instinct to protect and defend, as they are loyal, reliable and committed."

These descriptions speak for themselves when it comes to knowing Ominis' personality type. People who have a lack of sight (or those who are legally blind) rely on fixed structures and routines to help ease their everyday needs. While it is possible for them to be spontaneous, they still have to have familiarity and past experience in the spontaneity they'll participate in.

He is very loyal, to a fault sometimes. He's committed in making sure that his beloved friends are not dallying in things they shouldn't be. He knows the difference between right and wrong, and trusts his life experiences to guide him to proper decisions.

2. Enneagram

— Type 6 with wing 5; SP/SX (The Defender)

"The committed, security-oriented type, sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious."

"Their basic fear is being without support and guidance, having nowhere or no one to hold onto. This is why their basic desire is to have security and support from their chosen people."

This one is very obvious. It's quite apparent that he is the type of person who can be anxious if things and people aren't where he wanted them to be. While he yearns for cooperation due to his need for security, other people who aren't used to this kind of behavior will find him controlling; and perhaps, even smothering.

Nevertheless, Ominis' intentions come from a good place. He doesn't want his people to be hurt or harmed. He also has an impeccable intuition to predict outcomes of certain situations, which makes him look paranoid. But his assumptions, more often than not, are proven to be correct!

3. Four Temperaments

— Melancholic–Phlegmatic (The Analyst)

"The Melancholy-Phlegmatic is a pleasant and accommodating person who tends to seek a structured environment requiring attention to detail. They have a self-sacrificing, self-critical nature, and struggle with guilt feelings about things that are not often their fault. The Melancholy-Phlegmatic is more conscientious and private than the other Melancholy blends."

This is quite self-explanatory. Ominis has two distinct behavior: the calm and peaceful, and the anxious and prickly. When things are going the way it's supposed to be (in his definition), he would be placated and docile. We see him as approachable and a little more open. But when things aren't going according to plan, or when things suddenly happen unexpectedly, he's like a rolling wheel going in different directions trying to extinguish the uncontrollable fires of disaster.

He's the first to respond by going to Headmaster Black to fabricate a story to hide what really happened between the Sallows, and make it look like a family argument instead. He's the one to alert MC that Anne went to get Solomon, and that we should do something about it immediately. He is the safety net of all these people in his life.

—---—---—---—---—

IV. Corporeal Patronus

I want to give a shout out to @ponfarrdraws for discussing this with me!

We were wondering what Ominis' corporeal Patronus would be, should he be able to cast one. I've had a lot of speculation, going through one animal at a time. But ultimately settled with a Mongoose. This animal is not on the official list of Patronuses but it still has a lot of weight and meaning.

This article states that mongooses are a symbol of protection and are considered to be wards against evil. To quote:

"As a totem, the mongoose has the magical attributes of defense, protection, and destroying evil. The mongoose symbolizes action, adventure, boldness, fearlessness, impulsiveness, independence, optimism, rebellion, resistance, resourcefulness, speed, and adaptation. As a spirit animal, it encourages us to confront our enemies because we can overcome much stronger rivals than ourselves."

If Ominis were to find himself facing a dementor, he would probably be the first to sense its presence, and probably the most affected. Even though he wouldn't be able to see the frightening features of a dementor, he would be feeling the immediate change in his senses — his environment growing cold, no sounds of animals around, and the overall sensation of hopelessness and misery. He would be completely thrown off by the sudden change in his surroundings; something that would send him into a state of panic.

But with this Patronus, it represents his determination to stand firm in the face of adversity, to not give in easily without putting up a fight, and to prove that he is as deadly as any dementor that would stand in his way.

I personally headcanon this animal for obvious reasons. He truly is a fighter in a den of snakes. No matter how many times his family strikes against him, he just takes his time to recover and stand back up again. He is clearly outnumbered by his family members. No one else can support him in his opposition ever since his Aunt Noctua passed away. Regardless, he doesn't seem the kind to bow his head in defeat just to save his skin. He fights back until he can't anymore; something the mongoose is well-known for.

And let's just say that Ominis did die at 50-years of age. He still got the last laugh out of them all since he got to pass away on his own terms, away from the very people he loathed since childhood. That's still a victory in his book, and that's what this patronus represents.

—---—---—---—---—

V. Wand Information

1. Wand Wood

Based on the physical characteristics of this wand and the meaning of the wood, it's highly possible that Ominis' wand is made from Ebony Wood.

According to the wand wood information:

"This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. [...] the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose."

This type of wand wood, in my opinion, is a reflection of Ominis' conviction in his views. I find it fascinating and admirable that even in the face of losing his friendship with Sebastian, he didn't bow down and agree with Sebastian's methods. Sure, he gets convinced by the MC to let them deal with it. But at the end of the day, Ominis is strictly against the use of the Dark Arts. Furthermore, he does everything to maintain his moral compass despite being surrounded by people (friends and family) who practice and preach about the unforgivable curses.

Also! I'd like to add the conversation I had with @tennoujinerin about Ominis' godly self-restraint. We believe that while most of us admire Ominis for his kindness, temperance, compassion, and commitment to the good cause, he is someone who can easily turn it all around. He is born in a family of pureblood supremacists who have no qualms in utilizing the Dark Arts like it's a daily chore. He most definitely is very, very familiar with Dark Spells that maybe even Sebastian isn't aware of. If pushed to the brink of survival, there's a possibility that Ominis could reconsider his relationship with the Dark Arts. And this wand wood is perfect for that kind of change of heart.

2. Wand Core

For this part, I admit I was stumped for a while. I believe all the three cores that Ollivanders usually has could be a good fit for Ominis for a plethora of different reasons. But it still feels... lacking. Like, something was missing for this special wand to work.

That's why in the end, I think Ominis has two wand cores that were needed to suit his special needs. He needs a core that reflects his personality and another to aid him with his magical abilities. And for that, the cores of his wand are a combination of Unicorn Hair and Horned Serpent Horn.

"Unicorn Hair generally produces the most consistent magic. These wands are the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts. The most faithful wands have unicorn hair, making them bond strongly with their owner. They are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing."

While this core could technically be enough, it just doesn't feel customized enough. We know that his wand emits a red pulse at the tip to help him navigate his surroundings. Therefore, this wand needs another core to bolster its utility.

"Wands made with Horned Serpent Horn are exceptionally power, creating massive spell effects regards of the user's skill. Sensitive to Parseltongue and would vibrate when Parseltounge is being spoken near it, and can warn their owners of danger by emitting a low musical tone. These wands were said to only bond with one user through it's lifetime, but this is only a rumor for now."

These two cores encased in ebony wood make for such a personalized wand. The fact that Horned Serpent Horn core warns its owner about incoming danger is an important factor for Ominis' safety and security. He needs to be alerted for when hexes and spells are being blasted in his way. And as for all serpentine cores, it's also sensitive to Parseltongue.

(Maybe it's just me but I believe that Horned Serpents are the antithesis of Basilisks. Having this creature's horn as Ominis' wand core would be the ultimate and tangible symbol of his rebellion against Salazar Slytherin's secret weapon, that lies in the Chamber of Secrets, and everything his family taught him to uphold).

3. Wand Flexibility and Length

According to the official source:

"Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair."

Because of that, his wand is most likely Rigid. This source had explained it perfectly:

"A wand of this flexibility will only give its complete loyalty to an owner who has faced great personal tragedy. It is particularly good for practical magic use, and thus usually doesn't perform well for magic that is frivolous or silly. Rigid wand owners are cautious and have difficulty trusting others, but they are not usually unkind people. Generally, they prefer to be left alone so that they can do what they want to do, regardless of what anyone else says."

(If you're not a Slytherin in the game, your first interaction with Ominis is surely abrasive and tense. And that's because he truly is cautious, and wants his private spaces to be left alone).

Lastly, this wand is on the longer side, measuring at around 14 inches. He needs a wand that can act like an extension of himself; just like blind muggles need a mobility cane.

TL;DR:

Ebony with Unicorn Hair and Horned Serpent Horn Core, Rigid and 14 inches.

—---—---—---—---—

Phew! 😮‍💨 This post took a very, very long time to make. But I am extremely glad for the assistance, conversations, and opinions of other wonderful people here on Tumblr and Discord! I swear, I love you all.

I want to give love and credit to the following:

@damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog (You're the one who really inspired me to finally get my mind together and put my brain cells to use. I admire your creativity towards your headcanons so much, and I want to share this with you!) 🫡

@tennoujinerin (Our conversations are the highlight of my obsession in this fandom. I love our collaborative thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed this one. See you in the basement! 😈)

@ponfarrdraws (I think my delusions have reached its peak with this long-ass post. But I just have to let out my aggressive emotions about Ominis! I know you get it, and I'm glad I got to know you).

@diligentcranberry (Thank you once again for entertaining my craziness. My OCD is now satiated with these information out in the open. I originally didn't want to post anything about this until you talked to me about the locations. So, thank you!)

Update (October 29, 2024): I recently finished Sebastian's version of this post, as a companion post for this one.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Mark Oshiro confuses me a little bit not going to lie. In the press tour for the first book all they ever talked about was how Nico is their son and Will is fine I guess. Then they said like 2 weeks before TSATS came out that they didn't understand Will's character at all and it's one of the main reasons why Will has so little POV.

Possibly unpopular opinion but I don't think it's a good, encouraging sign when the writer admits to not really caring about the deuteragonist or not even having a sense of how to write them...

Yeah, no. If you have no interest in 1/2 of the POV characters of your book, you REALLY shouldn't be writing it (or at least, not have that be a main character). Especially when the main way TSATS could have been improved is if it was primarily Will-centric instead of Nico-centric. Will basically had next to no established character prior to TSATS! He was practically a blank slate! But all the new stuff we got for Will in TSATS was so clearly disinterested and had no regard for his previously established traits (or the established timeline/canon). Which is annoying because fleshing out Will would have been the PERFECT opportunity to actually incorporate a lot of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in as a sensitivity reader, which was the ENTIRE REASON THEY WERE BROUGHT ON AS A CO-AUTHOR!!!!

As TSATS stands, there is no reason for Mark Oshiro specifically to have been the co-author instead of someone else. It's so clearly just a PR move from RR following the huge backlash Rick received due to his response to criticism on how he wrote Piper and Samirah (and Reyna and etc etc). This was immediately following Rick saying he wasn't going to write what would become TSATS because "it [wasn't his] place to." Most of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in either weren't relevant at all to TSATS or written very poorly (to downright offensively) in TSATS, so either Mark Oshiro wasn't doing their job or was not able to do their job for some reason, but either way it basically makes the theoretical justification for Mark Oshiro being the co-author/sensitivity reader irrelevant.

With Will, it was HUGE fanon back in the day for him to be trans. Trans!Will and photokinesis!Will were basically the two biggest headcanons for him (both largely popularized by Cherryandsisters). We know Rick is aware of this old fanon because he canonized photokinesis!Will. If we had gotten trans!Will, that would have been great! And then made sense why we specifically got a trans co-author! (Instead, if anything, TSATS canonized Will being cis.) If we had gotten Will being latino, that would have been amazing!!!! And also then made sense as to why they chose Mark Oshiro for the job as a latinx author/sensitivity-reader, versus potentially choosing an Italian co-author since Nico being Italian/Venetian was emphasized so much in the book (and done poorly! Yknow what they could have done to fix that? GOTTEN A SENSITIVITY READER FOR IT)! Based on the themes and focuses actually present in the book, it would have been most logical to get a queer, neurodivergent, Italian co-author or sensitivity reader who specializes in those three topics at least. But we didn't! So why was Mark Oshiro chosen instead when they only specialize in one of those topics? PR reasons. It's blatantly entirely PR reasons and no actual thought or care was put into this book (or, likely, TSATS 2 either).

It doesn't help that we're also actively being told that the published version of TSATS was a rough draft. Or that their editor blatantly isn't doing her job. Or that "The Sun And The Star" was the working title that they just kept cause they didn't bother to make an actual title. And that the final version is full of explicitly last-minute scenes that weren't checked over at all (the final Bianca scene, for one). Or the ACTIVELY ADMITTING TO SOURCING IDEAS AND INFORMATION FROM FANS! That last one is kind of important because at this level of publishing that is a HUGE no-no for legal reasons. You can get into a lot of trouble for that and there is a reason why it is Ye Olde Fandom Law to never try to pitch your ideas or headcanons to the source creator(s) and keep fandom separate from the creators. There is a REASON why Rick Riordan is so distant from the community these days and it's for PROTECTION AGAINST LEGAL REPERCUSSION. Mark Oshiro being the exact opposite while also ACTIVELY ACKNOWLEDGING sourcing concepts from fans does not bode well! It has to do with copyright stuff.

It's just. So. Sighhhhhhhh >->o <- me lying on the floor about all of this. It's sad being able to see the glimmer of what could have been at the very least a decent book underneath all this. If anyone involved in the process had actually cared just the tiniest amount.

[sunderingstars]

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ DOLL THEORY ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: theoretical speculation, interpretative analysis, waxing poetic, red string conspiracy theory board in full swing

— word count: 6.1k

— overview: (as of 2.6) going out with a bang by outlining my doll!sampo theory, including evidence from the simulated universe, limited-time events, dialogue, and more! not many photos in this one, since i’ll just be referencing the other analyses i’ve already completed — you can visit the masterlist here.

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ DISCLAIMER ⌝

When discussing theoretical speculation, I do not believe these events to be set-in-stone or even canon, only that this is an interpretation of events I am very interested in talking about! I have no idea if any of this will actually end up being true, but it’s fun to speculate. Even if it all is proven false later on, I still think it’s a fun idea to play around with for AUs and the like! Enjoy!

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ INTRODUCTION ⌝

Doll Theory is the name I have ascribed to my theory that Sampo is a creation of Aha similar in function to the doll in the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence within the Simulated Universe. This includes sharing Aha’s physical appearance (the silhouette), being created to vent extreme emotions on, and being betrayed or discarded by Aha once the Aeon was done with him. I often imagine Doll!Sampo to be or have been an Emanator at some point as well. 

This theory can easily run in sync with other Sampo theories, such as Aha!Sampo, Masked Fool!Sampo (canon), and the aforementioned Emanator!Sampo. Sampo as a protector of Belobog, Sampo as “Mr. Cold Feet,” Sampo as a worker (or boss) disillusioned with his job, Sampo who wants to help the Trailblazer — it all fits here!

(Note: reading my other analyses isn’t needed to understand what’s going on, but I figured I’d include links in some sections for those interested!)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EVIDENCE ⌝

Related Analyses — Simulated Universe, Kit & Abilities, Divergent Universe, Name & Etymology, and Notable Topics. Masterlist link!

Aha Stuffed Toy

The main piece of evidence that sparked this theory is the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence in the Simulated Universe. Summarized, the occurrence details the existence of a toy — or “doll” — created in Aha’s own likeness for the purpose of venting extreme emotions on. Aha wishes to see Themself beaten up, and is not involved in the “quality control” process. Upon interacting with the doll as a player, you have two options: pat it lightly or hit it hard. Both options have a random chance of granting varying quantities of Cosmic Fragments, or none.

In certain outcomes, the doll is broken, destroyed, or its head explodes. In the case of the Elation option in Gold and Gears, the doll even gains sentience and steals your Cosmic Fragments, accompanied by the line “Only Aha knows the secret.”

I connect this to Sampo mainly through his trade, affiliation with Elation, and namesake. His trade of being a con-man centers much of his actions around money — whether giving or taking — much like the doll awarding or stealing Cosmic Fragments. With Cosmic Fragments as a stand-in for in-universe currency, it’s easy for me to see Sampo as serving a similar function concerning the flow of money. Additionally, he is the only character so far connected to both the Elation and this amount of currency-based identity.

However, my main idea comes from Sampo’s namesake — a Finnish mythological artifact known for distributing wealth upon others. Not only was the Sampo forged by a god (mirroring the creation of the doll by Aha), it was tied to granting others wealth (Cosmic Fragments), conflicts were fought because of it (small link to the “conflict” of beating up the doll), and it was ultimately destroyed (much like the doll breaking or its head blowing up). That, paired with the cryptic line “Only Aha knows the secret” that causes the doll to become sentient and steal our Cosmic Fragments (much like Sampo cheats others out of their own money), leads me to interpret this occurrence as being intertwined with Sampo’s own identity.

Curio Hacker

Curio Hacker is the main Sampo occurrence I’ve seen people talking about, and for good reason. The “blue-haired entity” is an immediate connection, and its general demeanor matches Sampo’s.

However, my main sources of evidence come from the Curios here. Organic Heart and Mysterious Magnetism, to put it simply, carry heavy themes of experimentation, creation, and the blending of multiple objects or concepts into one before abandonment. If we look into the question of why Sampo might be trying to replicate these Curios and how he even managed to access the Simulated Universe in the first place, we can arrive at the conclusion that these two in particular have some sort of meaning or connection to who he is or what he is trying to accomplish.

Given the Curios’s heavy focus on creation and combination, I don’t think it’s too far of a stretch to assume Sampo may be a creation or “combination” himself — likely a bridge between the mortal and immortal as an Emanator, insentient and sentient consciousnesses as a Doll. He is an enigma, just like Organic Heart and Mysterious Magnetism.

The *Perfect* Grand Challenge

Another occurrence that is heavily Elation-coded, The *Perfect* Grand Challenge once again showcases toys and dolls in the spotlight, this time inside an arcade machine. Not only does this occurrence have several nods to a “programmer” (linking to the blue-haired entity in Curio Hacker), but it also features a doll whose head blows up after venting extreme emotion. 

My main takeaway here is the existence of multiple dolls, which may imply that Sampo is not the only one of his kind, merely another step in his creator’s pursuit of “perfection”. Although the concept of “perfection” doesn’t seem to fit with Elation that much for me, I could still see Aha becoming enamored with the idea of a “perfect self,” if only for shits and giggles. 

Masked Fools Boundary Equation

In the Divergent Universe Masked Fools Equation Expansion, triggered by collecting sixteen Elation blessings, part of the story sees our point of view character (who I interpret to be Aha) drinking a beverage concocted with “fruit extracted from bitter hatred felt after falling from great heights.” This is more a combination of Emanator! and Doll!Sampo to me, since I connect “fruit” to “Organic Heart” which is part apple, “bitter hatred” to Sampo’s Eidolon “The Deeper the Love, The Stronger the Hate,” and “falling” to be a kind of betrayal or violence associated with both the doll and Sampo as a character. 

My guess is that Sampo may have previously been an Emanator, but had his status revoked, causing him to “fall from great heights.” In this way, the doll would also be harmed, allowing for a “reward” — or in this case, a nice amusing beverage — to find its way into Aha’s possession. This could also be seen as Aha growing bored with Sampo, essentially discarding him like a used toy.

Jester of Anatta

I’m putting this here because I feel like every single word of the original text is important!

This is a four-star equation combining blessings of Nihility and Elation. Not only is it a four-star like Sampo’s character rarity, but it sits in the exact intersection of his affiliations — his playable path being Nihility while his in-game affiliation is with the Masked Fools, an Elation faction.

— Exploding in the face / head area.

— Explodes “like a bomb” — his ultimate uses a bomb to hide his face and he has a lot of bomb imagery surrounding him.

— The audience laughs and “gains something” from his pain, though he is soon forgotten.

— Intentional self-destruction for others’ gain.

— Stealing, being pursued by private guards, blowing things up — all acts for attention, all acts Sampo has canonically committed.

— Reference to the subject as a “clown,” mirroring Sampo’s “Clown’s Items” from Penacony.

— “Lying in rags and debris, you mock your pathetic self.” Debris implies physical acts of destruction, rags implies a loss of wealth and status.

— The abandonment of others.

The main connections I make are to the doll’s head blowing up, the abandonment themes of Curio Hacker’s Curios, and a type of “reward” being gained from physical pain. The extreme emotion in this case not only would be Elation itself from the audience, but the intense self-mocking and pain of the “clown.” After all, Aha Stuffed Toy never said the emotions being vented had to come solely from the outside — it’s possible that stress or hatred turned inward could do the same trick.

Also, the “rags and debris” implies a type of being spent, perhaps something akin to the Sampo bleeding out all its wealth to others only to be left behind as everyone moves on.

Other Evidence

— The Simulated Universe occurrence Ace Trash Digger is also a huge connection; here’s a short post where I detail my thoughts on it.

— Additionally, here is my post on the Ship of Fools Unknowable Domain occurrence, as it pretty blatantly references Sampo (and Sparkle!) as well.

— In the trash can event, Sampo’s stage “Hazardous Waste” directly refers to an effect that causes him to be “beaten up” so he regenerates energy and attack. “Hazardous Waste” may also be a reference to his abandonment or “fall from great heights,” making clear that even though he has been discarded like the toy he was made to be, he is still very dangerous, much like the venom-tipped fangs on the shoulder of his outfit.

— Sampo’s downed pose is unique among Star Rail characters, looking like a doll folding down to protect his face.

— His line when hit by a heavy attack — “Hey, watch the face!” — could be another extension of him trying to protect himself from “breaking”.

— The Noblesse Worm Aha made an Emanator once. Since we know that Aha is fast and loose with who They promote to (and demote from) Emanator status, I don’t see it as too far of a reach to assume They might turn one of Their own doomed creations into an Emanator for the cruel, hilarious irony of it all. (And for that yummy beverage, of course.)

— The Sampo of Finnish mythology is huge here, since its narrative, function, and eventual fate is directly mirrored by the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence.

— This line from a starskiff on the Skysplitter:

(Not directly a piece of evidence, but it summarizes a lot of my feelings on Sampo’s sentience.)

— “Eyes of the Prey” is a light cone that positions Sampo as both predator and prey — and Emanator!Doll!Sampo would fit this perfectly, the Emanator in him being the predator and the Doll in him being the prey.

— Sharing an appearance with Aha (“created in Their likeness”): red on the outside of his outfit much like the oranges and reds of Aha’s masks, similar silhouettes, not visiting the Express due to potentially being recognized from Aha’s time there, Aha being referenced but not described in the Astral Express dream bubble because They may look similar to someone we know and would recognize (like Sampo) — even shares similar vocal quirks like referring to himself in third person.

— Being beaten up for rewards & venting of extreme emotion — usually no “nice” dialogue options to him in-game, basically a punching bag for most people around him like Topaz collecting his debt in her trailer, people are just mean to this man for no good reason honestly. I’d like to think this is because the universe literally dictates them to be, as that is his purpose.

— Sampo has several unique “quirks,” such as not leaving footprints, that imply he may be different from a normal being. As a creation of Elation, this could be side effect of his existence (or potentially his attempts to subvert it).

— In the Tatalov sequence, Sampo directly refers to a “truth” he is trying to reveal. It seems he can’t tell us upfront, so this may be the “secret” only Aha knows.

— Sampo is well-known for scamming people and essentially stealing their money, much like the sentient doll who steals our Cosmic Fragments in Aha Stuffed Toy.

— The doll also makes a direct fourth wall break by looking at us, both the Trailbazer and by extension the player, which is something Sampo has also done by looking at the “audience” and addressing us.

— Jester of Anatta, the doll, and many other pieces of evidence listed so far have heavy themes of voyeurism looking in on another’s pain.

— The “quality control” mentioned in Aha Stuffed Toy carries similar themes of experimentation and creation as the other mentioned occurrences. Given that They are not involved in this process, this could also link to abandonment and even the idea of Sampo being “buggy,” hence the hacker in Curio Hacker and his lack of footprints.

— Additionally, an Intellitron NPC in Dream’s Edge named Kirk talks about Asmon Rim, an Elation planet that began to treat other lives as toys in their pursuit of the Laughter. While I’m not sure how much this factors into Sampo’s story given the existence of Kalevala (the planet) as a likely origin for him, I still feel it’s important to mention. Asmon Rim definitely lines up with the overall dehumanization of the Aha Stuffed Toy, although it does lack the direct involvement of Aha. Perhaps Sampo found himself there somewhere along his journey, or perhaps his betrayal occurred there or something similar. Food for thought!

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ INTERPRETATIONS⌝

Related Analyses — Eidolons, Penacony Voicelines, Simulated Universe, Outfit & Design Motifs, and Notable Topics. Masterlist link!

Beyond just evidence, Doll Theory lends itself to certain interpretations of canon, mainly the many mysteries surrounding Sampo and his role in the story.

Tatalov

While the Tatalov plotline still confuses me in general (as I feel it was meant to), the closest interpretation I have for it under Doll Theory is that, since we are in Sampo’s dreamscape, the plot itself is meant to mirror Sampo’s own existence. As he says after Firefly interrupts the dream bubble, he’s trying to “reveal” a specific truth, which is likely something to do with his identity or role in future events. 

In this case, I see the trash cans as being stand-ins for either other dolls or Belobog’s people, with the giant Sampo at the end equating to the Sampo we know. It may be trying to point us towards Sampo’s status as an Emanator by enlarging him to a size reminiscent of Phantylia, or imply he is attempting to go against his creator — likely Aha — through the lines “Become the garbage king / though the cans have long been broken.” (Also note the specific use of the word “broken” here.)

Again, Tatalov still confuses me quite a bit, so I feel the whole thing could be symbolic of Sampo’s backstory as a doll and goal of gaining power to inspire others to fight back, or it could also be symbolic of him protecting Belobog (or both!). The jury’s still out on the specifics.

Eidolons

Although I already covered Sampo’s eidolons in its own analysis, my interpretations have changed a little, so here I am to quickly go over each eidolon for Doll Theory.

— Rising Love: Rising into being, creation. “Love” could stand for Elation itself, Sampo’s early love for Aha / his purpose, or Aha’s “love” creating him. Also could be indicative of rising to Emanator status. Also also, could be the “rising love” of an audience becoming enamored with him / entertained by his suffering, much like in Jester of Anatta. He is facing away from the viewer, just another faceless doll. (This eidolon may also be referencing a period of time where Aha becomes “re-interested” in Sampo, meaning Sampo is the recipient of this “rising love” coming from Aha after being discarded for a long time.)

— Infectious Enthusiasm: Doll!Sampo as an extension of Aha, being made in Their image. Aha is known for having “infectious enthusiasm” specifically, so this is probably the point Sampo is closest to Them. Sampo as an Emanator would also fit this idea. Being surrounded by Elation, specifically of the intense kind. The constant need to perform. Now that he has been lifted high as an Emanator, we focus on his eye, a small yet more identity-laden part of him — he is not “just another plaything,” or so he thinks.

— Big Money!: Tie-in to the doll bestowing wealth. He grants currency onto others; his existence is full of it. The audience is scoring “Big Money!” by venting on him or watching him suffer, and if he is being self-destructive, he may be receiving it too. May also be indicative of a turning point, a shift in understanding of his own purpose and identity given the next eidolon. Here, he is seen flipping through bills with a smirk; this may be when he begins using earning money as a coping mechanism, or a way to take back autonomy for himself.

— The Deeper the Love, The Stronger the Hate: The dichotomy of his existence; the irony of a doll. Being showered with so much love by others, only to realize that love is conditional on your pain. The more the audience loves, the more Sampo hates himself for being helpless, for being miserable. The more Aha bestows Their “love,” the more Sampo begins to resent his creator for creating him. The more Sampo allows himself to feel love, to feel Elation, the more that hatred festers within him, the idea that he must be made for more than this. He is smiling here — attempting to transmit the love, the enthusiasm, the Elation his purpose demands — but he is unable to hide the hatred hiding behind his dulled eye. (This could also be seen as the moment of “betrayal” where Sampo loses his Emanator status, effectively being robbed of the only power or agency he had.)

— Huuuuge Money!: Sampo has begun to get used to the wealth constantly spilling from him, although it does not change the feelings in his heart. While the money flows more than ever, he enters a cycle of self-destruction, tying his identity to earning money himself, leaning into the con-man persona. The name also implies a heightened intensity of him either making money, or others making money off of him, which would be directly correlated with increased pain or suffering. He stares head on, somewhat tiredly.

— Increased Spending: Likely referencing his attempts to “hack” the system or bypass the nature of his own existence, paying a cost to reap a greater reward later on. To me, this seems both like a calculated plan, but also like spinning out of control, almost like a gambling addiction. He looks more serene in his art, though, so maybe he has found some sort of peace in his attempt to break free.

Overall, this interpretation has a similar track as my other analysis, going from rising to Emanatorhood / dollhood through creation by Aha, being surrounded by Elation and full of it, and being closely intertwined with currency, to a “betrayal” or slow-building hatred of the self or others, which then transitions into an even bigger spiral of planning, spending, and suffering.

Clown’s Items

This could reasonably go in the evidence section, but it also has interpretation so I figured it could go here.

The Clown’s Items — being the items Sampo asks for in the Penacony main quest — are as follows: Moment of Betrayal, Cloud of Doubt, and Everlasting Hatred, in that specific order.

The cool thing is, those are actual consumables on the game! Although I don’t believe they were created by the devs with Sampo specifically in mind (as some of them seem similar to other characters, such as the blade stabbing through a rose that reminds me of Argenti), I do believe they were included by name in this quest to imply something specific.

(Note that these consumables are focused on attack / crit increases and damage reduction.)

The art is of a knife stabbing a dead rose with vibrant red petals in the reflection. This can connect to the red roses in Sampo’s ultimate. “Moment of Betrayal” also increases Crit, much like Sampo’s attack increases after being beaten in the trash can event.

The description could be a connection to the audience from Jester of Anatta / the people seeking wealth from the doll (“persuasion and incitement from those people”).

The betrayer and betrayed could be twofold: Sampo betraying Aha, subverting his purpose through sentience and attempting to break free in a moment of surprise, or Sampo himself being betrayed, potentially by someone within the Masked Fools or even by Aha Themself.

I read this as either Sampo betraying Aha, his creator — “Et tu, my child?” would be a direct reference to Aha as Sampo’s creator or “parent” — or the Masked Fools betraying Sampo — the line would now be Sampo speaking to those below him from the status of Emanator. It may even be a combination of both, as Emanator! and Doll!Sampo often go hand-in-hand in my mind.

Perhaps Aha betrayed Sampo by taking away his Emanatorhood, which the Masked Fools then made worse in Sampo’s time of need, while Sampo now plots to turn the tables and betray Aha in the future. Who knows? It’s all speculation!

(Defense and taking less damage may tie in to a form of self-protection, of finally distancing oneself from hurt.)

The Cloud of Doubt focuses on a burning door amidst deep gray smoke. This could be a reference to Sampo’s old life burning down around him after the betrayal, obscuring itself in the haze of an uncertain future. “Doubt” is also what likely set in after everything happened, perhaps even a seed in his mind for a long time as he performed and bled and suffered.

As an Emanator, he likely prided himself on his confidence, but the description of the item may be his internal self talk later on. If his existence was a lie, if there was no greater purpose to his suffering, then what was the point? Why would anyone trust the self-pitying Jester of Anatta or the false bravado of an Emanator or the sad life of a doll only made to be broken?

Then, he was likely tempted to burn. The hatred has already begun to set in, and he decided on whatever plan he was going to set in motion. The house he’d lived in was burning, so why not destroy the house? He wasn’t planning to live there anymore anyways.

“And that spark had already been ignited long ago.” The spark, a chorus of laughter looking in. The spark, a thousand cuts. The spark, a shallow ember set before a door, a bird with clipped wings, a puppeteer’s string pulled taut, taut, taut, until finally… snap.

Hatred hardens the soul. Quite simply, hatred hurts. The bird has been speared through the chest with an amalgamation of tar-black weaponry, heart-shaped, a love hardened so cruelly and so slow it bubbled under the flesh until it simply became too much for the poor, dead bird.

The description asks “you” to consider sending a letter of forgiveness to your enemy. That, paired with the quote, leads there to be a strange self-awareness about the item. While the name is “Everlasting Hatred” and the art is macabre, leading me to believe it would fall into the same vein of straightforward emotion as the last two, the text on this one urges us to to the opposite of the item’s name. Instead of Everlasting Hatred, it tells us life is “too short to be wasted on feuds”.

I’m not sure if this means Sampo still carries this hatred and the text is a warning message, a cautionary tale of what may happen if he continues to hold onto it, or if Sampo has reached that enlightened point of realizing he needs to let go of his hatred. Whatever the case, the hate was there at some point, making it an important part of his story.

Betrayal and doubt catalyzed to create hatred, a resentment of his own purpose and creator, perhaps even himself. But hatred is as strong and deadly to oneself as it is to others, and it is important to be wary.

Overall, I see these items as taking us through a chronology of emotions, if nothing else — betrayal to doubt to hatred. Not only that, but betrayal as a singular moment, doubt as a haze present for quite some time, and hatred as a growing, bone-deep killer.

I tend to see this as an inciting incident, either Aha revoking Sampo’s Emanatorhood or some other cruel joke (or even creation itself as the joke), which then lead Sampo to question his own existence and purpose, which lead to doubt and eventual hatred once he realized his suffering was all some sick joke.

There are other interpretations I could make, of course, but this is the one I like the best!

Other Interpretations

— Throughout Penacony, especially considering Tatalov and how mysterious Sampo is on the whole (even on Belobog), it seems there is something not just that he won’t tell us, but potentially can’t. (Hence the distinction between “trying to say” and “reveal the truth” in Penacony.) Not being able to speak certain truths would certainly line up with a “secret that only Aha knows.” Perhaps part of Sampo’s existence is being unable to express his identity and purpose for fear of “ruining the joke” (Aha’s decision, not his).

— In many conversations, there only seems to be mean dialogue options to say to Sampo in-universe. It may be that the devs subconsciously find him annoying, or the game is supposed to be telling us the Trailblazer themself doesn’t like him, but I also think it could be a byproduct of his existence as a doll. Since Sampo’s purpose would be to be the recipient of emotional venting, it makes sense that others around him may be more… driven to extreme emotion in a subtle attempt by the laws of nature to, well, exercise his purpose. We may only have mean dialogue options people are supposed to become frustrated and angry and annoyed around him; being nice to Sampo too often may go against his entire reason for existence. If he was quite literally created to provoke these actions from others, it would make sense that people would act like this around him through no fault of his own.

— Under Doll Theory, I believe Curio Hacker may be Sampo’s way of trying to escape own existence or fate. Perhaps the “price” he is paying is to finally break free of his endless cycle of suffering and wealth. Additionally, the “hacker” part of Curio Hacker implies he is trying to bypass or find a loophole in something.

— Also, while I do believe Sampo’s outfit coloring may be to mirror Aha’s splash art coloring, it does not escape my attention that the red is on the outside, like blood. Red is also the color used by matadors to rile bulls up and… yeah… I’m sad now. :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ POTENTIAL TIMELINES & EVENTS ⌝

A quick and dirty of general events I feel could be chronological to Doll!Sampo’s story:

— Creation ➜ Abandonment ➜ Rebellion

— Betrayal ➜ Doubt ➜ Hatred

— Rise ➜ Pure Elation ➜ Suffering ➜ Spending

(Update: After looking at “Ace Trash Digger,” some of my thoughts below have changed. Mainly, I believe Sampo’s “betrayal” by Aha can be narrowed down to abandonment and being discarded on Jarilo-VI. I also think Sampo may not have become an Emanator until after he gained “advanced awareness” in Belobog, meaning he was just an Aha Stuffed Toy for a long time after his abandonment until he did something that prompted Aha to take interest in him. However, it is still possible he had been an Emanator Stuffed Toy previously, had that power revoked when he was discarded, only to gain it back once Aha took an interest again. Whether the abandonment happened because of a “joke gone too far” or Aha just genuinely believed Sampo to be “waste” is still up in the air. Okay, back to the pre-written stuff!)

(Additional Update: Due to the Ship of Fools Unknowable Domain occurrence, I also now believe that Sampo was likely abandoned due to being “unfunny” or otherwise “damaged goods,” and that Aha may, in fact, still view him as such. Alternatively, Aha may view all of Their dolls as unfunny, with Sampo being the singular part to catch Their eye due to his ability to survive and advance his existence on Belobog.)

Generally, I tend to believe Sampo was created either as an Emanator from the beginning, or as a doll — one among many — that Aha decided to rise to the status of Emanator. From there, he would experience the life of Jester of Anatta (or something similar), although he may have been able to convince himself it was worth something or that he was “special” due to his status and proximity to Aha.

However, despite giving and giving and giving through all the suffering, a betrayal would occur — likely something to do with Emanator status or another, similar kind of betrayal — that made him question everything. The doubt finally flared up and he realized how cruel his purpose, and by extension his creator, really was. Then, with that doubt morphing into hatred, he set out to find a way to break free, to get back at the one who betrayed him and subvert his own existence, paying a heavy “price” to do so.

Notes: Since the canon timeline of… well… anything having to do with Sampo is unknown as of now (2.6), there are several different amendments that could be made to this. For example, the “betrayal” may have been Aha revoking Sampo’s Emanator status as a joke, leaving him completely defenseless as a plaything for the Masked Fools or others, before reinstating his Emanator status once the joke got old.

In this way, Sampo could be an Emanator currently while still having the experience of losing Emanatorhood. Additionally, Sampo’s hatred may have turned to some kind of resigned enlightenment that is now present in canon, or it may still be there for all we know.

While there are many branching paths this timeline can take, I will stand by the general chronology of creation to suffering & betrayal to whatever plan he has going on now.

Additionally, throughout all of this, there’s a good chance that Doll!Sampo has either been earning money himself as an attempt at autonomy and self-control, or even perhaps a lingering compulsive cycle having to do with his currency-oriented origins.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ THEORY OVERLAP ⌝

As stated in the introduction, Doll Theory can be used alongside several other theories.

— Emanator!Sampo: This is the main theory I see working with Doll Theory, as Aha is known to have a penchant for making literally whatever they find funny into an Emanator. With that poor worm in mind, I would almost be more surprised if Doll!Sampo wasn’t an Emanator at some point.

— Aha!Sampo: While my thoughts on the Aha!Sampo theory’s canonical likelihood have changed since starting this analysis, I still think it could work. Although Doll Theory does not see Sampo as a direct manifestation of Aha in Their entirety, he could still technically be “Aha” — or rather, perceived as Aha by others — due to similarities in appearance, voice, and mannerisms due to being created in Aha’s image.

— Mr. Cold Feet’s disillusionment and loss of confidence also work here, since those feelings of wanting to quit his job and being so exasperated with the Fools could stem from his unique perspective as a doll.

— Sampo wanting to protect Belobog makes sense as well, as he would likely see the Underworld as similar to himself — an underdog, a place where people suffer not because of their own actions but because of the misfortune of having others who exploit them. After the planet begins to emerge into the cosmos proper, Sampo now likely sees the whole planet as this vulnerable place in need of protection. He said it himself — he looks out for the little guy.

— Curio Hacker!Sampo is already something I interpret as evidence of Doll!Sampo, since Doll Theory gives him a direct reason to want to “hack” or find loopholes in the world around him.

I feel like many other theories could run alongside this as well, but these are the main ones that came to mind. Feel free to let me know if there’s any specific theories not mentioned here that you want to hear me talk about in proximity to Doll!Sampo!

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ THE VIOLENCE OF CREATION ⌝

Something that sticks out to me about Doll!Sampo is the theme of creation. Due to being based off the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence, we know that he must have been created by Aha like the doll. However, that implies a certain… cruelty, intentional or otherwise. We know Aha to be casually cruel for the joke, like leaving the Noblesse Worm to suffer and die after They got bored of Their little experiment, so it wouldn’t be surprising to me that They would make yet another ill-executed joke.

Sampo’s creation specifically, though, speaks of an almost violent intention to me. Aha is an Aeon, it’s not like They’re unaware of the suffering of mortals. If anything, They’re likely to delight in it. So, They intentionally created a doll, a sentient being capable of feeling pain, to be used for the express purpose of suffering. They wanted to see Themself beaten up, and instead of taking the brunt of it Themself, in Their own form and consciousness, They created another being to go through it for them. A doll with the face of its creator, meant to be tormented. That’s violent to me. That’s cruel. 

I don’t have much else to say, other than I wanted to point it out. Creation, especially of godly origins, is often seen as divine and pure in nature, even within the HSR universe. However, I do not believe there is anything well-intentioned about Aha’s creation of Sampo. In my eyes, it’s just divine cruelty.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ THE UNCANNY DIVINE ⌝

Speaking of divinity, I do love the idea of Sampo being both so uncanny and so… godly. If he really is an Emanator, or even just made in the image of Aha, that puts him in proximity to what many in-universe see as a religious figure.

In popular culture in our own universe, religious figures are often seen as comforting, pure, and remarkably virtuous. What I love about Sampo is he’s just so uncanny. He doesn’t leave footsteps when he walks, he’s incredibly cryptic, he’s a con-man for a living. He’s so mysterious in a way that fits more into the uncanny valley than it does into any divine book or religious text, and I love it. He is out here living his life as a god, quite literally just fucking around and finding out.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ THE TRAGEDY OF A DOLL'S EXISTENCE ⌝

Tragedy. Cruelty. Suffering. These are all words I associate with Doll Theory. It is by far one of the darker ones out there, at least in concept. Sampo has no control over his means of creation, no autonomy to decide his purpose or his next steps. They are all determined for him by the god he is a son to, the ever-watchful eyes of a crowd holding their breath and baring their teeth for a good show. He has no choice. This is what life is.

He is Organic Heart. He is the combination of two twisting things never meant to be joined, a still-beating sentience trapped within the rotting shell of a fruit. Mysterious Magnetism clings to him like a ghost, a wanting, warping thing that fractures the senses. At his birth, his fate was sealed. A heart can never be more than a heart, an apple never more than an apple. Since the beginning, he was made to be devoured.

He is the Jester of Anatta. He rises, he falls, he entertains just to fall apart. The audience claps. It was easy, at first, to convince himself this was privilege. He was privileged, special, important. He was born in proximity to the luminosity of an Aeon, not just in voice or in appearance but in soul. The vibrating shadows of the audience did not know this privilege — he should be grateful. But time wore on, as always. Soon, a seed of doubt was planted, buried among soft fields of self-pity. Was this all life was? Was this all he was meant for? … Was this really a privilege? He breaks for the thousandth time, and wonders.

He is Betrayal. Doubt. Hatred. The one sliver of power he had clung to, had convinced himself was worth it, is gone, nothing more than a cruel joke twisting in the wind. It does not matter what happens next. All that matters is now. By the end, he is spent, all hollow cracks and the fading whisper of a laugh. What was once full is empty. Like a small ceramic bank, he collects his pieces off the floor. He uses spare coins to wedge himself together, but tar seeps through the gaps.

He is Curio Hacker. Electronic, buzzing, only existing in mirrors. He’s picked up a sort of gambling addiction, and now he’s virtually virtual. Pay the price, take the wins, cut the losses. That’s how life goes. He makes himself an offer he can’t refuse. “You sly dog,” he says, eye-to-eye with a seeping black gash in the mirror. “You drive a hard bargain.” He accepts, eventually, and begins down a long road. No fault but his own, but the price is worth paying. A clipped bird in a winged cage, isn’t that ironic? He leaves with more than a few deals in tow.

He is Hazardous Waste. He’s made his home in a far-off place, finding some strange warmth in the biting cold. Still, he can’t shake the feeling of lingering dread, of the tar inside hardening, cracking, bubbling into poison. He may be discarded, but his bleached fangs hold a venom of their own. He thinks about how far he’s come. He wonders if anyone remembers him. For a moment, he hopes he’s reached for again, plucked from obscurity for a last show, just so he can bite the hand that feeds. A predator is still prey to something, but he doesn’t care. He’s become more than a thing, more than a limp-limbed marionette. He has teeth, now. He will use them if he has to.

He is a doll. A stuffed toy. A freshly-painted mound of clay shaped into form and rolled under the bed, out of sight, until he collects dust in the darkness. No amount of running can change that. No amount of growing can stop it. Despite his efforts, the constraints of his own existence wear thin. Tape over his mouth, laughter in his ears, a headache building where his head has cracked against the ground. The only thing that’s changed is the money in his pocket. He clings to it like a lifeline, like a perfect goddamn savior, as if a small bit of green can wash away centuries of spilling gold. As much as he tries to hide it, he is scared. The paper reminds him of brightly-colored confetti.

He is a hacker, he is a toy, he is a model of a god. He is more than the sum of his parts; he is confined to everything that he is. A heart-apple, an apple-heart, and a generous amount of venom-tar in between. He is hatred, doubt, betrayal. He is a protector, but never protected. He is a vessel forged from divine cruelty, born anew from the warmth of snow. He is all of these things. He has to be. And isn’t that just a tragedy?

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for reading my magnum opus! this theory is very dear to my heart and has been driving me insane for at least four months !! :)

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[emberunderscore]

FableSMP EPIC the musical AU

whole thing comes from the perspective of Midas (as Quixis specifically) being Scylla, which means Icarus has to be Odysseus, which is also fitting tbh.

this is only based on the released sagas bc i dont have the vibe of the future characters yet (i dont look at a whole lot of snippets). also dont think about any of the blood family stuff too hard - theres nothing weird dw but it just makes stuff complicated with the gods

Monsters

Scylla - Quixis Midas

The ideas of Scylla being human turned monster, Midas is human turned Quixis, which in this universe could be something of a replacement for monstrous, which also works with 

Spooky bitch Midas propaganda

Look at my edit to be even more convinced

Polyphemus - Leviathan/Vorago

Probably makes most sense with Leviathan

Instead of the parent/child relationship with Poseidon they're siblings (ocie is poseidon)

Humans/Dead people

Odysseus - Icarus

Icarus has to be Ody because of Midas being Scylla

The song Monster

The conflicts within the plot work well with Icarus’ own relationships

Eury and Ody see each other as brothers, even though it isn't’t blood. Maybe they’re not blood related in this AU

Eurylochus: Rae

Brothers!!

Rae is seen as the leader of Lodestar, which works well with Eury’s place as the voice of the crew

Penelope: Centross??

prison duo

but it actually works because Icarus would do anything for him. just look at season 3

he's probably not smart enough to be penelope but the agenda is more important than that

Telemachus: Oscar

Ik Oscar isn't Icarus' kid but he is Centross and theoretically Centross would've been the one to raise him anyway

See Legendary

Polities: Athena

Optimist

Song open arms

"everything's changed since polities"

Perimedes: Caspian

Perimedes is the one who stabs Odysseus in the back to stop him from killing Eurylochus in Mutiny

For Rae? Cas wouldn't hesitate

Tireseas: Haley

Dead prophet

who else

Ody's dead mom: Isla

Isla is Icarus' mom??? In this AU??? /s

Gods

Zeus: Fable

Orignially this was Epros but I was convinced to change it

Massive ego

Yellow

Actual reasons in this post

Athena: Enderian

This could also be fable but I dont think Icarus would defy him like how he does

Goddess of the Mind, need I say more

Aeolus: Aurelius

They have the vibes I think

Aeolus is gender and so is Aurelius

There are a lot of options I think

I like the idea of the Winions(?) being the piglins they had in their bunker

Poseidon: Ocie

Ocean

At the beginning Ocie is so ready to kill people, she does not care for human life. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

She would do that for Vorago

Canon compliant beef with Icarus 

Circe: Momboo

My first thought was Ven because I'm a fucking dumbass

It makes so much more sense than Ven

Plant lady, plant witch

badass

girlboss

pretty woman

Hermes: Rakai

They have the vibes

One of the very few gods to tolerate Icarus

gender

Apollo: Malitae

Apollo sounds so fruity in god games

Apollo cares most about music in god games which is a form of expression so i think it fits for Malitae to be him

Hephaestus: Nexus

In god games Hephaestus' thing is trust, he's pissed that Ody betrayed his crew

Nexus is the Goddess of Loyalty so it fits really well that she'd be upset about that

Nexus was also a knight so being a god of blacksmithing isn't too far from that

Aphrodite: Soul

Aphrodite cares about Ody's mom's broken heart

If we thing of it in the context of soulbonds it makes sense that Soul would be upset about that

Ares: Netherum

Ares is the only one in god games to match Athena's power, which checks out - major god to major god

Maybe its a bit ooc for Netherum themself

But god of destruction as the god of war. thats something

Would totally step in for Soul

Hera: Perix

In this AU we ignore family dynamics- Perix is not married

Calls Athena "baby" (kinda gay)

Fits the vibe

can you come up with a better idea? no, nor could I (credit to Sardar106 for this casting lol)

Calypso: Ven

They're so "This could never really happen but let us pretend"

"I wish we could've been something"

Look at this post (person who reblogged has better words than me go read that)

thank you for coming to my au talk. please share your own thoughts and opinions (but also remember that i am objectively correct all of the time /j)

Updated after Wisdom Saga

[sundrop-writes]

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.

Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd. 

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits? 

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off. 

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for. 

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least. 

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you. 

… 

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him. 

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive. 

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up. 

“Who are your friends?” He asked. 

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice. 

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed. 

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question. 

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience. 

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang. 

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear. 

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement. 

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.” 

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time. 

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh. 

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason. 

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it. 

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained. 

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self. 

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face. 

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded. 

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked. 

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of. 

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again. 

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?” 

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish. 

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about. 

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit. 

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you. 

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact. 

“No way.” You scoffed. 

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together. 

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity. 

“I am.” Dick said firmly. 

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips. 

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said. 

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit. 

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words. 

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer. 

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-” 

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.” 

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air. 

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was. 

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours. 

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so. 

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by. 

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it. 

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment. 

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked. 

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him. 

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink. 

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle. 

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you. 

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him. 

… 

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging. 

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick. 

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts. 

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock. 

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting. 

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him. 

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun. 

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages. 

You had no clue that you’d end up living together. 

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall. 

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional. 

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean. 

… 

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.” 

“Shut up.” 

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended. 

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments. 

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him. 

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words. 

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes. 

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies. 

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.” 

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words. 

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.” 

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face. 

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.” 

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail. 

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?” 

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear. 

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?” 

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him. 

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed. 

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both. 

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that. 

… 

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind. 

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day. 

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex. 

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up. 

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up. 

… 

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you. 

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile. 

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl. 

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle. 

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.” 

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box. 

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs. 

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead. 

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.” 

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee. 

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.” 

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans. 

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’” 

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others. 

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’” 

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock. 

But you would never admit that he was right. 

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won. 

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that. 

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you. 

You just glared, and he smirked once more. 

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done. 

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed. 

“I know.” You grinned at him. 

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you. 

… 

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice. 

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him. 

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will. 

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong. 

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket. 

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval? 

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you? 

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn. 

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it. 

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed. 

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done. 

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.  

… 

Hectic. 

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower. 

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up. 

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal. 

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that. 

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision. 

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason. 

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him. 

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner. 

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection. 

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened. 

So you took the leap. 

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door. 

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you. 

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him. 

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight. 

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.” 

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life. 

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.” 

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects. 

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired. 

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you. 

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly. 

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself. 

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own. 

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair. 

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt. 

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you. 

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now. 

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over. 

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.” 

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury. 

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence. 

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you. 

“You need this treated.” He added on. 

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly. 

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.” 

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.” 

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound. 

“Jason-” 

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you. 

But of course, he cut you off. 

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore. 

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites. 

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion. 

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him. 

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you. 

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it. 

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm. 

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed. 

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it. 

But, no dice. 

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to. 

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse. 

Jason sighed through his nose. 

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?” 

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you. 

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle. 

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound. 

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it. 

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” 

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind. 

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.” 

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you. 

… 

Dick explicitly told you to stay put. 

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader. 

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him. 

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Jason!” 

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward. 

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started. 

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.) 

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side. 

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason. 

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass. 

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen. 

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him. 

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you. 

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt. 

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once. 

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists. 

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety. 

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding. 

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off. 

… 

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant. 

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk. 

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you. 

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke. 

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time. 

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.” 

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them. 

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him. 

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.” 

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line. 

‘Maybe I just have to care.’ 

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it. 

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable. 

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.” 

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning. 

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze. 

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’ 

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely. 

“It’s nothing.” You told him. 

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from. 

Jason shook his head at this statement. 

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it. 

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain. 

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes. 

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply. 

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it. 

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble. 

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize. 

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident. 

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth. 

“I meant what I said.” You told him. 

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened. 

He didn’t find any. 

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound. 

… 

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could. 

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street. 

Panic flooded you. 

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately. 

“Don’t move!” He shouted. 

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back. 

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason. 

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes. 

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him. 

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him. 

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die. 

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him. 

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart. 

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.” 

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning. 

He thought he was a dead weight to your life. 

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!” 

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you. 

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully. 

You ignored him. 

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting. 

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!” 

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him. 

But of course, you refused. 

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.” 

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more. 

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of. 

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned. 

So Jason did what he had to do. 

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip. 

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-” 

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself. 

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely. 

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground. 

… 

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him. 

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat. 

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it. 

“All done.” He said quietly. 

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place. 

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you. 

You felt your heart sink. 

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there. 

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave. 

It was something else. 

It had to be something else. 

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you. 

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours. 

And now he was trying to back down from that. 

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first. 

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey. 

You were both so vulnerable. 

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed. 

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that. 

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things. 

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask. 

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you. 

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly. 

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe. 

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through. 

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you. 

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin. 

He knew that it would break him. 

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him. 

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought. 

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you. 

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was. 

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat. 

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you. 

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible. 

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.” 

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back. 

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.” 

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen. 

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips. 

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once. 

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body. 

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

The sequel to this fic is now posted, but I do highly encourage you to leave a comment on this fic telling me what you enjoyed about it before you continue on reading.

Keep Reading Here: The Jaws of Life - Jason Todd x GN!Reader

[fantastic-nonsense]

Is it possible for Jason and Roy to actually be friends? I know RHATO is terrible and I've seen a lot of people say there's no real reason for Jason and Roy to have any sort of friendship and I was just wondering if that's the case?

Technically it's possible for anyone in comics to become friends (or at least be on friendly terms with each other) if the circumstances align the correct way. In the case of Roy and Jason, I think there's two things that people need to understand:

Jason and Roy were canonically on friendly terms prior to Jason's death. Jason had a short stint on the Teen Titans in the mid-80s and all of the Titans—including Roy—were pretty friendly with him. However, Jason and Roy's relationship during that arc is based around the fact that they only know about and interact with each other via their relationships with Dick Grayson. Roy is one of Dick's best friends, and Jason is Dick's younger brother. That directly impacts how they interact.

Roy and Jason are only friends in current canon due to a substantial number of retcons to Roy's life, personality, and friendships. These retcons have made it impossible to treat Roy and Jason's friendship as anything remotely reasonable for either character, because if you have to completely twist a character into something they're not for a friendship with another character to work…there's generally an insurmountable gap there that would be better filled by other people.

Given those two things, there's clearly a theoretical canon path forward for making Jason and Roy friends on their own terms rather than "being friendly to each other because they both love Dick Grayson." It wouldn't be super hard, though I personally struggle to see a lot of connection points for what would realistically make Jason and Roy become friends in the way that New 52 canon wanted to portray them.

The problem is that modern comics did not and still have not put in the work to make that friendship happen in a way that actually makes sense. Instead, they effectively just erased Dick from Roy's life and inserted Jason into it instead. And because the writers of that era (particularly Scott Lobdell, who wrote RHATO) did not actually care about any of the non-Bat characters they were randomly throwing together, that friendship and the circumstances under which it exists are pretty much the Ground Zero reason for why Roy Harper was fucked over so badly in the New 52 and Rebirth eras.

So the general fandom anger around Jason and Roy is less about there being "no reason" for their friendship to exist (though that's also true given how canon has portrayed it) and more about how the canon reasoning given for their friendship has done nothing but hurt Roy as a character. Hope that answers your question?