#a 3/some scene where one character uses they/them pronouns

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

Character Creation

All armor and clothing options will scale and mesh to any body type [source]

The character creator has lots of sliders for body parts and overall shape, none of which are tied to the voice or pronouns (she/her, he/him, or they/them) that you choose [source]

"Epler took special care to show off the extensive curly and textured hair options in the game, including several versions of braids and locs, noting that increasing these options in particular was very important to the team" [source]

You can change your character’s physical appearance at any time during the game, but not their class or backstory [source]

"Each individual class has some variability, too; even the mage class has some up-close-and-personal attacks, since a mage player character could still conceivably have an assassin backstory and would therefore need to have some attacks to accommodate that sort of career path" [source]

" "We’ve spent a lot of time thinking about skin tone,” Corinne said. The character we made, a Black elf, seemed to glow in the bluish light of a nighttime scene, and under bright sunlight, I could see the richness of his color. Corinne: "We want to make sure that skin tone is reflected authentically" " [source]

" “We have dozens and dozens of hair types,” she said. “And they’re fully affected by physics.” The quality and variety of choices I saw delighted me. The rows of bouncy, luxurious-looking hair of all curl types and textures (and yes, the annoyingly ubiquitous “Killmonger cut” was among the options, what can you do?) brought the biggest smile to my face in the hour I spent with Busche and The Veilguard." [source]

Story and lore

NPCs will remember when you chuck a shopkeeper through a plate-glass window [source]

" The game’s story sees Solas intact a plot that will result in the deaths of thousands. When his justification that “people die, it’s what they do,” falls on deaf ears, you and your merry band of misfits have to stop him " [source]

" “Early in the demo and in the trailer, you’re in a part of the world you’ve never been in – Tevinter,” Epler tells me. “Tevinter is known for being a place of high magic; visually, it’s different. Obviously in Origins you’re in Ferelden, which was grubby, muddy, and very visually different and distinct. That said, it’s the first hour of the game, so we’re only seeing the prologue. As you go deeper, you’ll find that the game can be just as bloody and just as grim as Dragon Age Origins, 2, and Inquisition. For us, it’s that feeling of contrast. You get moments of higher fantasy magic coming back to the world through Solas’ ritual, but also things get pretty grim, and things get pretty dark in some spaces for sure.” " [source]

"Snappy dialogue" [source]

The game is really about each of the companions [source]

Narrative narrative narrative! [source]

The Shadow Dragons are an underground resistance that engages in guerrilla warfare against the corrupt mage rulers of the Tevinter Imperium [source]

"Varric has created the group called the Veilguards, recruiting a veritable group of weirdos to pursue Solas, who’s carved a path through the magical empire of Tevinter" [source]

"There’s intrigue to the game’s tale already, with Varric hoping he can convince Solas to stop his plan of tearing open the Veil: a wish by the dwarf to save a dear friend. There’s a fascinating relationship that's already being set up, Varric and Solas as opposing narrative forces, with your character, Rook, pulled between them" [source]

"There’s extra context to flesh out dialogue, with short descriptions that help give a vague idea of how things play out. The example we were shown was Rook trying to take down a gang leader inside a bar. We could choose to defuse the situation with either words or weapons, but the catch is you don’t know how effective those approaches will be" [source]

" Busche explained that the team wanted to give players a game where locations were imbued with just as much personality as the characters. “That meant making contrast from the areas that are dark and decaying to the areas that are illuminated with magic,” Busche said " [source]

" “This is a part of the world where magic has been embraced,” Busche said. “It is a society of mages and magic in this world is inherently colorful. So whether we’re seeing them use magic for everyday purposes like signage or using them as spells, that color really comes through.” " [source]

We will visit the Necropolis of Nevarra [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

There are dozens of abilities and spells [source]

The game has an easy mode [source]

There is a setting where your character can't die in battle [source]

"The Rogue class in our demo had a bow with recharging arrows for ranged attacks, and dual blades that could unleash a furious flurry of instantaneous blows" [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[sundrop-writes]

The Jaws of Life

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Now part of me has holes in it, and part of me is whole. 

We’ve only begun. 

I can’t decide - maybe it’s enough to get by for now.

But I’m having the time of my life - rotting in the sun.

We’re inside The Jaws of Life.

Part One: Panic Room

Summary:

You and Jason don't really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways.

Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce's behest, and you're off to visit a long lost relative that you didn't even know cared about you.

Unfortunately, while you're apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3. 

Word Count: 19,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is a sequel to Emergency Contact, so make sure that you read that fic before you start this one. This can be read as a standalone, but reading that fic first provides emotional context for the relationship between the characters, and it gives you more amazing stuff to read! Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic has a lot of warnings, so strap in - the reader character is completely gender neutral - the main pronouns used for the bulk of the fic are you/yours and there is one scene where Jason is talking to someone else about the reader and uses they/them pronouns for the reader and there is absolutely no descriptions of what genitals the reader character has (I like all my GN fics to be interpreted so that the character could be trans, or cis, or nonbinary, and that they could have a penis or a vagina); there are implications of the reader being trans or nonbinary (something I threw in last minute cause it felt like it fit the fic well), but like with my fat reader fics - if you're cis then just ignore it, roll with it, and remember that most fics are catered specifically for you; this fic DOES use Y/N (as do all of my fics); the reader character has meta powers - the reader character can form ice crystals out of nothing and can freeze pretty much any substance; Jason calls the reader 'babe' (but as I said with the previous fic, I think this is a genderless nickname and Jason would call anyone this when flirting and being affectionate); mentions of Jason's canon kidnapping and canon interactions with Deathstroke (and the trauma those incidents likely caused for him); mentions of canon deaths; the fic starts off with a smut scene - the reader gives Jason a blowjob; mentions of Jason 'gagging' the reader with his cock (during previous incidents, not this time); Jason uses the word 'pretty' to describe the reader (he says they have a 'pretty mouth') - again, I feel like this word is fairly gender neutral, especially in the context of him being affectionate; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Jason's fingers); protected penetrative sex - Jason and the reader fuck while using a condom (and because I didn't describe the reader's genitals, it could be vaginal sex or anal sex, who knows); marking kink; some dirty talk; the reader is more submissive and Jason is more dominant, but there is no explicit BDSM roles; (very brief) cockwarming; (and I think that's it for the smut section, the rest of the warnings are non-smut related); mentions of Rose having a one-sided affection towards Jason or flirting with him to try and further her mission (in this version, Rose and Jason never get together); mentions of Jason's past and the trauma he has surrounding it - including discussions of his poverty, his parents' deaths, his abandonment and neglect by all the adults in his life, his time in foster care; Jason has a generally poor self-image in this fic and has negative internal dialogue surrounding himself when he is narrating; mentions of the reader having a backstory similar to Jason's - the reader grew up in severe poverty and neglect and was homeless for the majority of their young life, and also had a parent who had issues with substance abuse; descriptions of Jason being kidnapped by Deathstroke; semi graphic descriptions of blood and violence (and death); semi-graphic descriptions of Jason being tortured by a kidnapper; mentions of the reader going to visit a long lost relative who is dying of brain cancer (if themes around hospice and palliative care are triggering to you, then these sections might be triggering - but I haven't gone into detail about the medical aspects or mentioned any medical environments or medical equipment, the cancer is a background plot point); mentions of Jason and the reader sexting in the past (none of the messages are detailed here); mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas; an enemy describes the reader character as a 'pretty one' and 'pretty thing' (again, I think this is fairly gender neutral, and the villain uses this term in a more condescending way); descriptions of gun violence; this entire fic has extreme emotional angst, and this first half is the more 'light-hearted' part, so do be warned that this fic will not make you happy and it is a big whump fest.

A/N: I am so fucking excited to post this fic, you guys have no idea omg. This is just the first half, and I think the fic as a whole is what makes it a great fic, but I think this is an amazing start/introduction and I am so excited to hear what you guys think of it!! Especially considering that this fic has been two years in the making and I am finally getting to post it omg. I am SO EXCITED !!!!!

...

“Fuck, babe.” 

Jason let out a breathy sigh as your mouth worked on his cock, sloppy and eager against the beautiful dick that you had come to know so well over these past few months. 

It was rare that you treated him to a blowjob. Since the two of you had started this ‘relationship’, you had noticed that he often got too greedy when you sucked him off - trying too hard to take control, shoving his cock into your mouth with unhinged care, rather than just sitting back to enjoy the ride. He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this. 

You wanted him to know that it was a privilege to have his cock in your mouth, especially without you simply biting his (very perfect) cock off. 

But after the chaotic past few weeks that the team had - with Gar and Conner being captured by Cadmus, with Donna’s funeral still fresh in everyone’s minds - you thought that Jason deserved this to take his mind off all of it. His wounds from Deathstroke had barely healed and everyone was still mourning. 

So you had him flat on his back in his bed - similar to the position he had you in not too long ago, when he had pulled the bullet fragment out of your stomach and bandaged you up. And you were straddling his knees as you worked your mouth on his cock, your tongue flat against the underside of the thick, impressive length while you bobbed your head, letting spit flow freely from your open mouth without care. It sloppily gathered around the base, slick down over his balls in a perfect, messy way. 

Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick. 

“Fuckin’ love your mouth.” He moaned, bringing a hand down to stroke gentle fingers across your cheek - burning, something that made you gasp quietly against his flesh. 

It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before. 

This Jason was a Jason much sweeter than the one Doctor Light took from you on that near-fatal night. You knew that it likely had a lot to do with you laying your life on the line for him - the fact that you had dangled yourself out of a high-rise building trying to save him, vowed that you would never let him go. 

That night had changed everything for the both of you. 

This Jason was not the same sex-hungry, carnal, ‘live for the moment’ person who had left The Tower that night, half-cocked and determined to prove that he was better than the old ‘relics’ who kept leaving him out of all their plans. This Jason was humble, quiet, thoughtful. This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on. This Jason actually took the time to think before he spoke. 

This Jason - even if he didn’t want to admit it - clearly cared about your feelings and wanted to show it. 

(And that made him a lot more deserving of a blowjob, unlike the Jason who would fuck into your mouth without asking and then laugh when you gagged on his cock.) 

“Goddammit, ‘m close.” Jason mumbled out - you could feel the muscles of his thighs straining under your palms, a concerted effort not to buck up into the warmth of your mouth to chase the finality of his high. 

You would have thanked him for it, if you didn’t have your mouth full. Instead, you bobbed your head faster and moaned around him - a wordless invitation for him to cum down your throat, for him to have a prize that he wouldn’t have been worthy of before. 

“Shit, babe-” 

Jason seethed through his teeth, and then curled his fist into the back of your shirt, tugging - surprisingly, urging you to pull away from his cock. 

“Come on, come up.” He said, gulping for breath. “I wanna fuck you.” 

You pulled off, leaving a sloppy twinge of spit trailing from your swollen lips to the pink head of his cock, glistening wet and slick sounding. His dick bobbed back toward his pelvis with a filthy, wet sound - causing him to groan as you caught your breath with a small gasp. 

“You feelin’ okay?” You chuckled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I have never known you to turn down cumming in my mouth.” 

“As tempting as it is to see my cum dripping from your pretty lips…” 

Jason said, reaching down and gently shoving his thumb past your over-worked, swollen lips. Naturally, you stuck your tongue out and tasted his skin, wrapping your lips around the digit and sucking once again, loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this. 

You couldn’t help but to indulge in the attention - not when it was his eyes on you. 

“I definitely can’t pass up the opportunity to watch you cum while you ride my cock.” He added on, his voice rumbling quietly with lust, the idea clearly something that truly excited him. 

You popped your mouth off his thumb before you spoke. 

“Oh? You think you’re gonna make me cum before you blow your load?” You chuckled, posing it as a challenge - knowing that he fucked you better when he was riled up, when he thought of it as another thing to prove himself in. 

“Think I’m some kind of amateaur?” Jason scoffed quietly under his breath. 

He put a hand on your hip and pulled you up his body, silently agreeing to the challenge that you had posed. You shed your shirt while he grabbed a condom - you were already prepped and well lubed, seeing as Jason had made you cum with his fingers and his mouth before you had turned him over on his back, seeking to return the favor. 

He rolled the condom on and slicked up his cock with more lube for good measure, something that made a wonderfully filthy slick sound. Then, with his hands firm on your hips, he pulled you up to straddle him and had you mounting him like he was a throne that you were meant to sit upon. 

You let out a rattling moan as you sat down on his cock, feeling the full hot length stretch you open for the first time in too long. It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust. At this point, he didn’t have to stop and ask if you were okay - he simply knew from the blissed-out look on your face that you were enjoying every inch of it. 

It was perfect. 

With your hands balanced on his chest and his forehead pressed against yours, for once, his eyes daring to gaze into yours past the thickness of his lashes. Usually he busied himself with his head in your neck, or squeezed his eyes shut when your dirty talk got to him particularly well. And often, insisted on fucking you from behind so that he could focus more on destroying you with ‘skill’ than falling apart due to the expressions on your face and seeing every little echo of his cock flicker in your eyes. 

But this was distinctly different. Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen, even if you had been naked together and fucked each other dozens of times by now. 

He was hot and heavy inside of you, so beautifully thick, filling you up so well. Strangely, there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be. 

“Perfect.” Jason sighed, his breath puffing out against your chin. 

It was that single word that warmed your insides and made you clench around his cock, causing him to hum from deep within his chest. He stroked a slow, gentle hand from your hip to the fullness of your ass, up your back, holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments. 

You had liked it then. It was emotionally detached - but it was hot. It always made you cum hard and fast. 

But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason. 

Jason laughed, and you bit back a moan when you felt the sound vibrating through you, when it drove his cock just a bit deeper inside of you. 

He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tucked a possessive touch tight around you and planted the other arm in the middle of your back, sitting himself up slightly, bending his knees - getting good leverage for what he wanted to do next.

“I don’t need to stroke my own ego when I have you, babe.” Jason announced, his smirk appearing in its usual stance and his voice soft.

Before you could muster any clever reply, he used his tight hold on you to lift you slightly off his cock and then began fucking up into you. In tandem with his rough, heavy thrusts up into you, he slammed your body down to meet the thickness of his cock, creating a rough, demanding rhythm that easily chased the air out of your lungs. 

“Jay-” You gasped, quickly becoming breathless. “Jason, fuck me!” 

You could little more than let him fuck you senseless. You were used to the feeling of his cock filling you up like this, yet it created that deadly curl in your gut each time like it was brand new. It sent harsh stinging across your nerve endings, a deadly wash across your skin as the heat crept through you. 

You knew that Jason was talented at this, but you also knew that it was something else. Something more than attraction - something you couldn’t get from anyone else that you still refused to fully acknowledge. 

“Hey, shh.” 

Jason hushed you, using that beautifully condescending coo that you knew meant he didn’t actually want you to be quiet - he always wanted to hear how loud you became when you were entranced by his cock. He bent his knees more to fuck up into you even harsher, causing you to make a wounded sound as his cock got even deeper into you. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, hot against your chin. “I’ve got you, babe.” 

The gentle, soothing nature of his voice juxtaposed with the venomous sting of his cock continually snapping against your pelvis was something that made you downright dizzy. All the combined sensations had your body arching against him - your muscles were tightening up, and though he felt that distinct warmth rising up in his own gut, he was proud to know that he had you there already. He was going to make you cum first, just like he had promised. He knew your body too well by now not to play you like a well tuned fiddle. 

“You gonna be good for me?” 

Jason mumbled against your neck, leaning in to gently skim his teeth along your skin. He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you. He loved the taste of your skin on his tongue. If you refused to let him go, if you refused to leave him to let him rot in his own poisonous life, then he would let everyone know that you had taken him on and that you were owned now. It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made. 

“You gonna cum on by cock?” He added on, his throat flexing slightly as his own lust clutched at him. 

It was something that you couldn’t have refused if you tried. 

“Jason-!” 

You gasped out, unconsciously bucking your hips down to meet his thrusts as he continued fucking up into you hard, getting quite the workout in his legs and abs, spearing his cock into you from the angle below you. 

But fuck, you were so worth it. Seeing the twisting pleasure on your face as your orgasm washed over you, feeling the pleasant sting in his back as your nails dug into his shoulders. Hearing your choked off moans and panting breaths as you could do nothing but hang on for the ride, feeling the beautiful mess across his pelvis as you came, showing him just how good he was fucking you. 

“So good.” Jason moaned into your neck, latching on to suck the skin there once again. “Fuck, Y/N, so good for me.” 

He found his own skin on fire once again as you tightened around his dick, your muscles becoming a hot vice around him as you rode out your orgasm, forcing his mind blank from the pure pleasure of it all. He loved the sounds you made, the look on your face, the way you ground your hips so closely against his as you savored every second of it. 

Jason was dizzy as his own orgasm hit him, his whole body tingling and sparking with pleasure as he shot his load into the condom. He put a hand across your back, pulling you close, pressing your body flush against his and grinding up into you in tentative, almost gentle strokes as he rode it out. With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender. 

It was the closest to love-making that you and Jason had ever gotten. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You whined, your stomach curling with a new kind of heat, your skin on fire - this time, alight with the newly birthed feeling of his loving touch on your skin. 

To an extent, it almost frightened you. Especially because of how much you liked it, how you could see yourself growing to love it. Especially because now you felt timid. You didn’t want to scare this part of him away. 

“I’ve got you.” He said again, quietly mumbling the words into your neck like a sacred promise. 

Unable to resist the urge, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, truly holding him, leaning into his touch. You relaxed against his body, sagging into the hold, and Jason hummed with content against your skin at the feeling. 

For a few moments - a capsule against the world that felt more peaceful than you had ever known - you let yourself become lost to this feeling. 

Still speared on his slowly softening cock, you simply enjoyed the feeling of his hard, muscled frame against you, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you in such an affectionate hold - like two giant pillars keeping you safe from the world. You enjoyed the scent of his fading cologne twinged with his sweat, let one of your hands wander up into his hair and thread a couple of your fingers along his scalp, which got another pleasant moan from him. 

When you unconsciously clenched down on him again, you had a thought.

“Jason,” You whimpered out quietly. “The condom.” 

It was a cruel disturbance to your peaceful little world, but he knew that the two of you couldn’t just stay like that forever. He would have to separate from you to throw it out eventually. You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out. 

“Oh shit.” He sighed in return. 

You hesitantly climbed off him and luckily, the condom easily slid out on his soft cock, and he tossed it away while you collapsed to lay on the bed beside him.

“We should just stop using condoms.” Jason chuckled, giving you a sly grin as he laid back against the pillows beside you. 

“Funny.” You griped sarcastically, moving to lay against his chest. You couldn’t resist the urge to cuddle, even if you wanted to go take a shower and get cleaned up. You could use the excuse that your legs were jelly right now and you wanted to gain back some of your energy first. 

You wanted to bring up the fact that you had been so adamant about using condoms with Jason because your ‘relationship’ with him was supposed to strictly be about sex. Sure, when the two of you started fucking, you didn’t expect that he was going to be sleeping with a different person every other week. Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking. 

And when you and Jason had started sleeping together, you had thought he was lying about how many people he had fucked before you. You thought he was a mouthy virgin or that he had slept with maybe one other person before he so boldly started pursuing you. But he could definitely back up all the talk, and that had you wondering how many of his claims were true. And that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been. 

And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him. You had seen her trying to flirt with him - a gentle touch on his arm, trying to pull him aside to talk after he came back from his brush with Deathstroke. You had wondered if there was something going on between her and Jason. 

You wondered if Jason proposing to drop condoms was his strange way of asking you to upgrade the status of your relationship. Friends with benefits, people who are still allowed to fuck other people - they use condoms. They have to use condoms, just in case. But people in a more serious relationship - they don’t always use condoms, because they don’t fuck other people. They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love. 

“Jason-” You said his name gently, about to ask him this, but then - his phone rang. 

A high-pitched digital tone chimed out from where he had put it on the nightstand and Jason groaned loudly in annoyance before he picked it up, looked at the Caller ID, and then promptly ignored the call. 

“Who was it?” You asked, curious who he would outright ignore like that. 

“Bruce.” He said, his tone dull, clearly feeling uncertain about the man. “The old man can leave a voicemail. Or send a text like a normal person.” 

This was strange to you. You thought that Bruce and Jason were coming to be on better terms. 

Bruce had come to Donna’s funeral, and you had seen the two of them talking quietly at one point. You had tried not to stare at the interaction unfolding, poorly reading Bruce’s lips out of the corner of your eye (but you didn’t get much out of it). Near the end of it, you had seen Bruce give Jason a fatherly pat on the shoulder before he walked away from the conversation, and Jason had looked entirely pensive about the whole thing, even if he hadn’t told you what it was about. 

You hadn’t been introduced to Bruce, then - the funeral really wasn’t the time for ‘meeting and greeting’, seeing as everyone was quietly in mourning over their lost friend. But you got the sense that he was a stoic and reserved man, and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place. 

Apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way. 

“I didn’t know you were screening his calls.” You said, curious as to why Jason didn’t want to talk to Bruce. 

“I’m busy.” Jason said, giving you his usual stunning grin before he leaned in and began kissing up your neck again. It was a pleasant, sweet type of affection, but he was clearly deflecting from the actual point you were trying to make, trying to distract you. 

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. And that only made you want to press the point harder. 

“Why?” You asked, trying not to fall victim to the feeling of Jason’s soft lips against your neck, lovingly sucking, moving with gentle kisses against your skin.

“‘Why’ what?” Jason replied - perhaps playing dumb, perhaps genuinely not knowing what you meant. 

“Why won’t you talk to Bruce?” You asked, clarifying. 

Jason sighed and leaned back against his pillow, collapsing with defeat. 

After a moment of tense, thoughtful silence - a moment in which you worried that you had pushed too far and he would simply tell you to get out - he finally gave in to the fact that he would have to talk about it. He gave in to the idea that talking to you about it would be easier than not talking about it at all. 

“He wants me to go back to Gotham.” Jason announced. 

He sounded oddly sullen speaking these words, which instantly confused you. You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. He would have screamed with joy and eagerly asked Bruce when the next flight out was. 

So why was he hesitant now? Did it have to do with the incident with Deathstroke? Did he doubt his capabilities as Robin now? Did he want to quit?

“You don’t want to?” You asked, trying to sound gentle rather than accusatory. 

Jason found it all too easy to open up to you now. 

“I don’t know what I want.” Jason shrugged, entirely raw and honest in this declaration - for once, not dancing around his more serious emotions with jokes or sarcasm. “I mean, before, I would have been excited for Bruce to invite me back. But now…”

“This is probably for the best.” 

You said, trying to motivate him past his potential insecurities. Before it was something you had done with playful combatance, knowing that if you faced him with a challenge, he would always rise to prove himself, even if it was out of spite. And now it was something you did with brutal, soft honesty, but still, it was nothing new for you.

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?” 

You posed, reaching out and gently brushing your fingers across his jaw. He stared into your eyes then, and you saw something swimming there - nerves. Longing. 

“Gotham needs Robin.” 

You repeated it because it was something you had heard Jason say before. 

One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless. 

Jason went to bed cold and hungry many nights thinking about Robin. Thinking about how one good person can make a difference in a cruel world. 

So when he had been given the opportunity to make up some dumb name of his own, or to become Robin - it wasn’t really a choice for him. He became Robin in order to be that symbol of hope for others, and in truth - to fulfill the hope he once needed for himself. 

“Right.” Jason sighed. He did have a duty to the people of Gotham. But something else was bothering him. “But… but what about us?” 

Us. 

He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair. 

It was the first time either of you had truly acknowledged it. Finally acknowledging the way your dynamic had changed since that night. Otherwise, it had been absolutely unspoken. 

“What about us?” You echoed back, your voice trembling quiet.

You were truly afraid to hear his answer. 

‘Say it.’ You wanted to scream at him. ‘Say the words. Stop making me think that all of this has been just big one big hallucination on my part. Say it, asshole. Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’ 

“Come on.” He sighed, flickering off towards the wall and refusing to look at you now, the words grating against his throat. 

‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’ He wanted to scream. ‘How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’ 

The air trembled with the might of all those unspoken words as Jason gathered a better, more guarded reply. 

“The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first.” He shrugged, still distinctly refusing to look at you. “But then… we… happened.” 

He explained it clumsily, clearly stuck for words in that entirely emotionally constipated way, motioning vaguely between the two of you. Once again, he was refusing to acknowledge the thing going on between the two of you. He was refusing to put those exact, big, serious words on it. Afraid that the weight of it all would knock him over, swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful. 

But his lack of words bothered you so damn much. 

Was it a casual relationship? Was it sex? Was it love? Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it? 

You hummed in agreement of this, nodding. 

“You shouldn’t stay just for me, though.” You told him. 

His duties as Robin were important. Mending his relationship with Bruce was important. Far more important than having sex with you and training for whatever vague threat Dick had in mind (especially when Dick couldn’t stand up and protect Jason from very real threats, like Deathstroke). 

Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness, a rattle of emotions coming through that he usually wouldn’t show around anybody else. He thought that you were breaking things off with him - whatever things were. But that wasn’t the case. 

“I might have to leave soon anyway.” You added on, trying to clarify your point. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked, sounding entirely hurt by this, the words acting as a bitter accusation coming off his lips. 

He held in the other thing he wanted to say. 

‘Where else would you have to go?’ 

He was trying to be more thoughtful with his words these days - and he knew this sounded far too much like a dig, mocking at the circumstances of your past. A past which you had divulged to him in bits and pieces while laying in bed with him after a healthy fuck, much like this. 

When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours. Your mother had been a deadbeat, much like his. Apparently she came from some richie rich family that you had only met a few times, when you were so young that you could only piece together a few memories from it, but she left behind all of it to be with her deadbeat boyfriend - someone who may or may not have been your father. Someone who got your mother hooked on drugs and petty crime to pay for the habit when your rich grandmother cut her off from the family money, knowing the kind of life she was living. 

You grew up a lot like Jason did. 

You saw your mother faded, abused, you had been forced to mature up and take care of yourself and even take care of your own mother when you had been far too young to do so. You had lived in slums. At many points in your life, you had been homeless. 

You never had a real father to speak of, and when your mother overdosed, you were left abandoned when you were still a young teen. But you took care of yourself well enough, especially considering that you had an advantage that Jason didn’t - icy powers from a freak accident that happened around the time you were born that should have killed you. 

It was only by luck that you ran into Dick and Kory when they came into the diner that you had been waiting tables at, whispering harshly under their breath about a young girl with severe, mysterious powers that they had lost track of. And you had pointed them toward the old Caulder house on the edge of town and offered to go with them - because you knew Niles Caulder from a time when he had offered to ‘help’ you with your own powers and you had gotten a bad feeling about the man. 

Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him. 

“I’m only going for a little while.” You told him. “My grandmother - the one I’ve only seen like? Twice? Apparently she hired a P. I. to track down my mom. Found out my mom was dead, and then eventually - she found me. She’s getting sentimental because she has brain cancer or something? I didn’t read everything in the letter.”

You shrugged, spotty on the information and unsure if the trip you had planned was even a good idea in the first place. 

Jason easily understood why you were jaded when it came to the concept of ‘family’. You had been abandoned by them and left alone in the world. You had raised yourself, essentially. Why would you need them now? 

“She wants me to come and see her - something about deathbed remorse and blah, blah. I don’t know. I wasn’t gonna go, but Dick thinks I should, because she’s like the only living family I have that I know about.” You finished the explanation with a sigh, and Jason frowned. 

Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code. 

Jason wanted to convince you to stay, but - maybe Dick had a point. Maybe, if you had a shot at having a relationship with your ‘real’ family - maybe you should take it. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback. 

You should have said yes. 

It would have been fun at the very least; an amusing trainwreck, perhaps. You could only imagine what it would be like - bringing your mouthy situationship along with you to visit your rich, uptight, estranged grandmother. Even just explaining the nature of your relationship with Jason to her would have been a wild and fun ride. 

But instead, you let your guarded instincts get the better of you. 

“No.” You sighed. “I - I can handle it myself.” 

You sounded a lot less sure in your reply, but you made yourself sure as you continued. 

“If she gets too whiny, or too… sentimental, I’ll bail. I know that Dick or Kory would come and get me if I asked them to. And I am very good at running from situations that don’t benefit me.” You tried to laugh it off, though this did evoke some painful memories of your past, when you had to run from things that very well could have ended your life - or worse. 

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” Jason sighed, not letting you easily forget the fact that you ran into a gun-hot hostage situation and dangled yourself off a building to rescue him. 

You lightly smacked his shoulder in response, and he quietly grunted at this, rolling his eyes. 

“I can handle myself. Dickhead.” You replied, much less bite behind the words than there would have been before. “Besides, you have to go to Gotham and deal with your own sentimental old bag.” 

“The last word I would ever use to describe Bruce is ‘sentimental’.” Jason argued gently. 

“He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down,” You reminded Jason. “It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.” 

Jason shrugged.

You laid back down, tucking yourself into Jason’s side and laying a few simple kisses against the skin of his chest before you settled in, closing your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, and there was only a moment of quiet before -

“What are you gonna do after you visit your grandmother?” He asked, so entirely timid. “Are you gonna come back to The Tower?” 

‘Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask. ‘Is it really over between us?’ 

Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around. 

You were the tape that had held him together after everything went down with Deathstroke. When the Titans went south, ruined by Dick’s lies and the pressure of enemies from their past, you were the brick wall that had held him up. If not for you, he could have easily imagined himself drowning in booze, crashing his motorcycle off the side of a cliff in a drunken blur; or jumping off the top of this incredibly impressive building to make himself nothing but a stain on the concrete below. 

You hesitated, but worked up the courage to truly speak what was waiting on your lips, especially when you weren’t looking at his face, tracing every micro-expression for potential disappointment or glee. 

“I could come to Gotham.” You whispered, barely letting your words break into audible sound. When Jason took too long to reply, you rushed to add on something else, to make your proposal seem less serious. “I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.”

Jason laughed at this, and you loved the feeling of the vibrations under the side of your face. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Sounds cool. I - I think Bruce would actually like having you around.” 

You wondered if that was true, or if Jason was just amplifying his own affection for you within his mind. Either way, it was sweet. 

You ended up falling asleep for a few hours. Jason’s gentle breathing flowing through his lungs under your cheek soothed you into an easy sleep - when you woke up, you were reminded of the drying mess between your thighs and wicked soreness that had set into your muscles. You needed a hot shower, and you needed to go pack a bag. You had to tell Dick that you wanted to book the ticket to go and see your grandmother. 

Knowing him, he likely already had one booked on the principle that you would come around to his line of thinking and he would end up being right. 

You were crawling out of bed when Jason’s hand caught your wrist. 

“You sneakin’ away on me?” He mumbled out, sleepy, not yet opening his eyes. 

“I gotta go shower, dipshit.” You said, your voice gentle and chiding, no real force behind the words. 

Jason gave you a sleepy smile. 

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex. 

“I can’t.” You told him. “I have to get ready to leave. Remember?” 

This caught his full attention, and he sat up abruptly, blinking his eyes open to catch a glimpse of you in the barely there, dim light. It was just before sunrise, the sky kissed hazy gray outside of the giant windows that lined his bedroom.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He asked, disappointment barely masked in his voice as he continued to grip your wrist. 

“Yes.” You said, knowing that you were echoing that tone right back. “So… I guess this is goodbye?” 

“Fuck you.” He replied, a harsh sigh from his lungs. He hurled the expletive at the concept of a goodbye with you. That was something he never wanted. 

He tugged on your wrist and you were reeled in like a fish, walking around the bed toward his side. You tucked your butt tightly beside one of his thighs, sitting close to him, vowing that you would get up soon as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist. 

He had the other arm across your chest, tucking his hand along your jaw and tilting your head toward him. You eased into the kiss with a small moan, enjoying the softness of his lips like a tree enjoys the sun. You soaked him up for a few long moments, and when you tried to pull back the first time, he held you there for just a bit longer. 

If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more. 

In a silent agreement - he finally let you go, and his eyes stayed glued to you as you got dressed enough to go down the hallway and then, you left out his bedroom door. His eyes lingered on the door for a few prolonged seconds after you did so, and then finally, he turned over again and fell back into an unpleasant sleep. One that felt fitful now that you weren’t in his bed. 

… 

Jason felt cold. 

The room he was in - some mysterious, wall-off concrete place with no light - was freezing. And it wasn’t the pleasant kind of cool like the touch of your icy skin when you crawled into bed with him late at night. Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him. 

No, this was a shocking, dead kind of cold. 

This was the kind of cold that would bring death after a short period of time. It was the kind of cold that easily made his fingers and toes numb, and made him struggle against his binds - and it was only then that Jason realized he was tied up. 

His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists - though he couldn’t tell with what. He couldn’t feel the texture of the binding through the thickness of his Robin uniform gloves in order to know how to best get out of it. Whether it was duct tape or rope, that would determine his next move, and he needed to make a move - fast. 

His legs were free. That was a good sign. That would definitely be useful. 

Before Jason could contemplate much more of this, a door that he hadn’t yet noticed off to his right burst open, creating a rush of light into the dull, dark room - a blinding moment where all he saw was shadows and movement. By the time his eyes had adjusted, a body was being thrown at his feet. Or rather, a very limp, fully alive person. 

Deathstroke towered over this person, wearing his full gear, the armor thick and imposing, his silhouette blocking out nearly all the light that had just been let into the room. 

Jason’s eyes flickered from him, to the person on the floor - purposefully stiffening his jaw in his best attempt not to show any fear. 

His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you. 

Your hands were bound behind your back, too, and you were forced silent with a cloth gag in your mouth, tied tightly behind your head. But your eyes truly captured Jason’s attention the most. Beyond the scrapes and bruises that littered your cheeks, signs of pain that already made him ravenous with rage, more than eager to rip apart whatever was holding him back in order to tear Deathstroke to pieces just for daring to touch you - your eyes were full of pure terror. 

Jason had never seen you like this before. 

Right from the moment he had met you, you had been nothing but confident - a palace of strength, calm, cleverness that he wanted so badly to topple. It was why he flirted with you, argued with you. He wanted so badly to get under your skin, to see you rattled. It was only when the two of you had sex that he finally saw some wavering in that, finally saw you falling apart. 

And eventually, it pushed away to something deeper, something softer - something that caused him to fall in love with you. 

But he had never seen you afraid. That fear in your eyes, you silently screaming at him for help - it put his stomach in knots within seconds. 

“It’s okay,” Jason rushed to assure you. He would get you out of this. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, I swear-” 

Deathstroke let out a chuckle - one that sounded muffled, cold, robotic behind his mask. 

“I can’t tell if you’re truly lying, following in the careless footsteps of your leader, or if you think that placating is the way to soothe someone in crisis.” He said, his tone entirely mocking. “There is no room for soothing here. Things most certainly will not be okay. Not unless you give me what I ask for,” 

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” Jason spit back bitterly, posturing, trying his best to seem big and strong when he felt so utterly weak, so small in those moments. 

“Dick Grayson.” Deathstroke announced. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll let your little friend go.” 

Jason hesitated. 

When Deathstroke felt this, he continued. 

“And if you don’t, I won’t hesitate to dispose of this pathetic excuse for a Titan.” He added on, giving you a harsh kick in the back with his heavy boot. You cried out in pain, and Jason’s insides jolted. 

It was a move that made Jason want to scream, and make threats that he knew he couldn’t live up to. 

He deeply feared what Deathstroke meant when he said ‘dispose of’. 

“Is Grayson really that important to you?” 

Jason began to panic, his eyes flickering from Deathstroke’s imposing shadow to your terrified face once again. 

His brain felt scrambled. He searched, thought hard, concentrated, and somehow - came up empty. For some stupid reason, he had no clue where Dick was. The Tower, Gotham, Detroit - the fucking idiot could be anywhere. And something else nagged in the back of Jason’s mind - even if he did know where Dick was, why the fuck should he tell this asshole? Deathstroke only wanted to kill Dick. Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another? 

And even if he did tell Deathstroke where Dick was, there was no promise that Deathstroke wouldn’t kill you anyway as soon as he had the information. 

No - Jason could save you some other way. 

There had to be another way, some other way to get out of this, something else-

“Tick tock.” Deathstroke said, rushing Jason’s answer. 

“Fuck you!” Jason barked back instinctively, still panicked. 

And it was that panic that cost him everything. 

“Well…” Deathstroke hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose they truly didn’t teach Junior Robin anything, did they?” 

In seconds, he could sense it - Deathstroke could see right through Jason. He knew that Jason didn’t know the answers to his questions. And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again. 

Before Jason could come up with whatever magical solution he was hoping would come to him, Deathstroke reached down, fisted the shoulder of your shirt, and brought you up onto your knees with a surprising strength. You continued to look Jason in the eyes with an intense panic while the man reached for his belt, unsheathing a sword that glinted in the little bit of light. 

When you heard the sound of the metal slicing through the air, your muscles quaked with fear and you tried to get away - but you were too weak against him. 

It was too late. 

“No, no!” Jason cried out in protest, having nothing else to do but watch on in horror and hope that his pitiful cries could somehow stop this, tearing harshly against the bonds holding his wrists in place. “No, fuck you! Stop it!” 

It happened too quickly. 

The sword appeared through the front of your stomach, coated in bright red blood, and you let out a scream of anguish through the gag. Then suddenly, you were being shucked off the blade, thrown away like you were nothing, tossed back to the floor in a puddle of your own blood, limp and near lifeless. Deathstroke turned and left the room without a single care, shutting the door behind him, shutting out all of the light, leaving Jason in cold darkness once again. 

And it was only then that the ropes on his wrists somehow loosened, allowing him to break free and rush to your bleeding body - too late. 

Too fucking late. 

Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. He was empty with shock. He didn’t know how to feel. He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him. 

“Y/N, Y/N, baby, look at me,” 

He found himself sobbing, forcefully turning your face toward him with a gloved hand, tearing the gag out of your mouth - your lips scarily pale, more than they ever should be. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

He couldn’t contain his screams of anguish when he pressed a cheek closer to your lips and felt the shallow nature of your breath. 

You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and- 

Jason awoke in a cold sweat. 

He was shaking, frantically looking around in the dark, soon to realize that he wasn’t locked in a concrete room with your bloody corpse - he was in his bedroom in Gotham. He was at home in the comfortable, cushy Wayne Manor. 

He had been having far too many nightmares since returning to Gotham. He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin. So he wasn’t getting nearly as much physical exercise as he used to and it left him anxious and not nearly as physically exhausted when he went to bed, making his sleep uneasy. 

Bruce had suggested sleeping pills, but Jason hated the idea of the side effects. The potential of hallucinations didn’t seem like it would make his sleep any more pleasant. 

Jason sat up on the edge of his bed, and turned on the lamp, wincing as the bright light prodded at his eyes, aggravating a headache he had that wouldn’t quit for days now. He reached for his phone, and almost unconsciously, brought up your contact. 

He laughed when he saw the contact name you had given yourself - clearly something you had done as a joke right before you had left the Tower. 

Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable

The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke. He guessed that this one was a joke about how you would be gone for a while, unable to fuck him. But he hated that you insisted that he still thought of you only as a Bootycall. He decided to change it to ‘Robin’s Ice Machine’ - one of his favourites, and what he kept you listed as in his contacts most often. (Even though he wasn’t sure if he was actually considered Robin anymore…) 

He opened up his last text messages with you, and couldn’t help but smile when he re-read them. 

He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’. 

And this had led to the two of you having the most amazing sex and eating junkfood afterwards. That was what he missed most about you. Simple nights. The ability to just be calm with you. Doing nothing with you and feeling so complete. 

Jason began typing out a message. 

‘I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I-’ 

Then, he realized how terribly sappy and stupid it sounded. And he thought about how much you would hate it. And even if you didn’t hate it, surely you would have no clue how to respond. The two of you weren’t like that. You weren’t those kind of people. He heaved a sigh, deleted the message, and then he got out of bed. He changed into some jogging pants and a sweatshirt and put on some running shoes. 

If Bruce was going to ban him from being Robin, the least he could do was go on a run to get his head straight. 

While he jogged through the cold night, Jason tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you. Tried to tell himself that if you decided not to come to Gotham after all, he would be just fine. 

When he was finished with his run, standing at the kitchen counter chugging some way-too-expensive vitamin water that Bruce liked to buy, he pulled out his phone again and pulled up your contact. He considered calling you, and wondered what you were doing right then. He wondered if you would answer. He looked up what time it was in San Francisco, remembered you weren’t there, and then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were - and then he went and took a long shower so he wouldn’t be able to touch his phone at all for a while. 

… 

When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy. 

Jason thought that the entire thing was a colossal waste of time, but Bruce insisted that if he was ever going to wear the Robin mask again - he was going to get ‘cleared’ first. 

Apparently, something about being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath, dropped off a building, and going to a funeral all in the span of a month doesn’t really scream of stability. 

Jason was weary of Leslie at first. 

He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce. He still wasn’t all too trusting when she tried to assure him that whatever she said would stay between the two of them. But he wanted to get back to being Robin. He wanted to get back to doing his job. And if getting all mushy with her was the fastest way of doing that, then he would. 

… 

They were playing the stupid word association game again. 

“Mother.” Leslie said, posing the first word. 

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor. 

Leslie gave him a deep frown, and he actually felt a pang of guilt at disappointing her. 

She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great. He wanted to defy whatever bullshit Bruce had told her about him. He wanted to show her that he was more than worthy of being Robin again. 

“Sorry.” He said timidly. “Habit.” 

“It’s okay.” She said, forgiving him too easily. Jason wasn’t used to being forgiven. 

Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for. Everyone else - he didn’t give a fuck what they thought of him. He knew that they always had preconceived notions of what he was - a screw-up, a street kid pretending while waltzing around in Robin’s costume. 

But when you looked at him, you saw an asshole trying to be clever and you tore right through that persona, looking for something real. So even though he hated it - even though it made him wiggle and gape like a fish on land - he showed you more and more real parts of himself. And he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel when he was with you. 

So, practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game. 

“We can try again.” Leslie said, taking a small breath. “Mother.” 

“Gone.” He said, announcing the first thing that truly came to mind when he thought of that word. 

“Father.” Leslie moved on to the next word. 

“Bruce.” Jason felt far too naked and vulnerable when saying this, but it was true.

Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. 

And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind. 

“Robin.” She said. 

“Freedom.” He easily responded. 

“San Francisco.” 

Jason felt like she was cheating at this point - trying to get him to weep and cry and spill all of his secrets like some kind of soap opera. He felt like she was purposefully pitching hits at his weak spots and waiting for him to block or be taken down. 

“Mistake.” He said, trying his hardest not to flex back on his honesty. 

He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that. If going there had been a mistake, or if he had made too many mistakes while he was there. Either way, it felt like the truth. 

“Safe.” She announced the next word, and Jason was not at all surprised by the first thing that came to mind. 

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation. 

You were the only safe thing in his life. The only thing - the only person that ever truly made him feel safe. Sometimes he was terrified of losing you, or hurting you, or poisoning you as badly as he had done with so many other people. But when he was in your arms, it was so easy to forget about all of that. 

You were safe. 

Which was a fucking rare commodity in his life. 

Leslie saw the look that came across his features - the look of fond longing mixed with gut wrenching fear. Naturally, she wanted to dig more into this. She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before. 

“Who is Y/N?” Leslie asked. Jason didn’t immediately answer, so she prodded more. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? … Friend?” 

Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said) - but beyond gender, for Jason, it was even more complicated than that.

Jason didn’t know what to call you when speaking about you to someone else. 

A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend? 

You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly. Mostly argumentative. But no matter how much the two of you argued, you had never hurt him the way that Dick had, or Bruce had. Or even the way that the other Titans had when they had accused him of all those things he hadn’t done. 

Your arguments were playful. The two of you never said anything to each other that would actually dig deep, that was ever truly meant to hurt. Nothing like when the Titans had doubted Jason’s loyalty to the team - had accused him of truly trying to harm them. Your arguments with him always held a certain kind of passion. Every time you fired back against dumb shit that he said, even if you were blatantly disagreeing with him for sport - it meant that you cared. 

Jason shrugged. “Kind of.” 

“Can you… explain more?” Leslie asked, careful and curious. 

“Shit’s complicated.” Jason mumbled, truly unsure what to say in order to describe the situation. 

“Okay, well… whoever this special person is, whatever they mean to you… why is it that they make you feel safe?” 

Now that was a million dollar question. 

Jason had never really asked himself that before. The ‘why’. 

“Well…” 

He began trying to explain it, and found himself stuck for words. But Leslie was patient, and waited for him to find the right ones. 

“It’s like…” Jason sighed, finding the whole thing very difficult. “It’s like Y/N knows what I am.” 

“‘What you are’?” Leslie parroted back, using his own phrasing carefully. “And what would that be?” 

“An asshole. Ya know - a fuck-up.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N has seen it first hand. They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.” 

It was the best way that Jason could think to describe it. Everyone else who had seen him beaten down and broken - Dick, Bruce, the other Titans - they all saw him at his worst and wanted to dump him at the first possible opportunity. But you held onto him tighter and refused to let go. Even when he struggled in your loving hold like an animal caught in a trap - you still held onto him tighter than anyone else ever had. 

And it made him feel a little less broken each time that he was with you. 

“Okay.” Leslie smiled. “So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?” 

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him. 

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life. 

“A lot of great relationships - whether they are friendships, or something more-” 

Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official. 

“-are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.” 

Jason definitely had that with you. Or - he had the start of that with you. And he wanted so badly to embrace. To see where a life with you would go. Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again. 

Ultimately, Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was. 

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.” 

Jason didn’t take long with that one either. 

“Y/N.” 

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one. 

But - he was too raw, and he ended the session before she could prod him to explain it further. 

… 

Jason was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for you.

He was afraid that if the time ever came, if you were ever in danger - he wasn’t going to be able to save you like you had tried to do for him. Thinking back on it, he had no clue how you had so boldly stepped into the line of fire, how you had dangled yourself out of a window that many stories high, desperately holding onto him. 

You acted fearless, put yourself on the line just to save his life - ultimately, one that wasn’t worth saving. 

And if he couldn’t do the same for you, then he wasn’t worth the risks you had taken for him at all. 

It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall. 

… 

Going to your grandmother’s house was certainly… interesting. 

She was rich. Old money rich. 

It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim. 

When you first moved into the Tower - a million dollar condo with advanced tech that you could barely comprehend at first, you didn’t easily feel comfortable among all of the shiny, lavish, modern furniture and the fancy touchscreens just to access everyday necessities. At the time, you had still been sporting an illegally jailbroken iPhone 6 that you had pickpocketed off some random guy a few years prior, and soon as Dick found out about that fact, he insisted on buying you a new phone that you had a very difficult time accepting because you were not at all good with gifts or ‘being spoiled’. You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for. 

It was one of the reasons that you so easily crumbled to Jason’s sexual advances. 

You felt so fucking alone when you first started living in the Tower. Your queen sized bed with a brand new mattress and brand new sheets felt too big. Being so new, it felt too cold. Sometimes you went stir-crazy, thinking about how much the silverware in the kitchen cost and the fact that the fucking television had an ipad for a remote (which apparently also controlled the curtains and the lights in the living room) - fixating on how if you had pawned those things off, if could have fed so many hungry children. 

At the time, you were desperate for a distraction. Jason became a very easy one to fall into. It was all too easy to fall asleep in his bed afterwards, because even if you hated the smell of Axe body wash and drying cum, sleeping beside someone, having a warm body at your back - it eased you so much more than sleeping in a big luxurious bed by yourself.

Your grandmother’s house was a different type of rich than the Tower was. Most definitely not modern; everything in her house was about as old as things can get - but still rich. It seemed that she was blatantly against technology, in fact. She didn’t seem to have a TV anywhere in the place, and all the phones were corded into the walls like it was the 80s, and she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket (checking, looking for Jason’s calls or texts). 

All of the furniture was far older than you, and well taken care of. Polished, the fabric clearly patched or reupholstered by professionals in places where it had worn down over time. She was the nick-nack type. Tall china cabinets full of fancy dishes with patterns on them, and the moment she caught you looking at them, she went on long winding stories about how the pieces were rare antiques that had been owned by some Duke from some place in Europe - again, something more expensive than you could comprehend or even really care about.

Like it had said in the letter, your grandmother had brain cancer. 

She had a large tumor that was eventually going to kill her. Apparently money can buy a lot of things - but it can’t buy a miracle treatment. The tumor had invaded too much of her brain before it had been discovered, and operating on it at her age was more likely to mean death than recovery. And as she so gracefully put it, she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her. 

Apparently, one of her last wishes was to meet and spend time with the grandchild that she had ‘lost’ when your mother took you away all those years ago. Your grandmother seemed nice enough - she peppered you with cheek kisses and invited you to tea the moment that you came in through the door. She had even sent a limo to pick you up at the airport, which made you feel far too important and awkward, sitting alone in the back of the expensive vehicle with a classical music station playing that you felt too intimidated to attempt to change.

And although your paranoid instincts were waiting for some horror movie reveal, waiting for someone to drug you and tell you that she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life and that’s all she wanted you for - you stuck around. Because the longer you waited with baited breath, the less that seemed to be the case. 

If the old woman wanted to spend her last weeks of life telling you winding stories about old dishes from Europe and drinking tea with you on her porch, then you would consider it a much needed vacation. You would simply sit down and listen. 

… 

“And you know, her granddaughter, she was a - a handmaiden for the Duchess of Yorke, and…” 

When you looked over at your grandmother, she had fallen asleep mid-sentence, holding her tea cup at an odd angle that made the small amount of tea inside almost dribble out. Though she had been talking just a moment before, telling a long, winding story about the history of the vase holding the flowers in the middle of the table - she let out a deep snore, and you worried that she was going to drop her cup or spill tea in her lap. 

Strangely, after such a short period of time being around her, you found yourself caring for the woman. 

You put down your own cup and crept over to her, trying not to wake her, and gently wriggled the cup out of her hands to place it down on the table. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. When you realized what the sudden, frightening feeling was, you took a deep breath and calmed down. Your grandmother had asked you to turn it off and leave it in your room, a luxurious guest room that she had you staying in, but you couldn’t help yourself. You missed Jason and you were eagerly waiting to talk to him. You didn’t want to miss a potential call or text from him. 

You made sure that your grandmother was sleeping peacefully (in the oddly upright position as it was) before you took out your phone and sat back in your own chair, looking to see who had texted you. 

New message from The Flightless Bird

Yes, Jason had a very strange contact name in your phone. For a while, you had kept it as Hot Guy, as it had originally entered it, before changing it to (Not) Hot Guy as a joke. Then, when the two of you started living at the Tower, it became a running gag for you to steal each other’s phones whenever possible and change the contact name to something strange and odd, usually paired with a memey photo to jokingly represent the other person. 

After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then. 

Right before you had left for your flight out, you had snuck into his room and grabbed his phone while he had been sleeping, and changed your contact name in his phone from ‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’ to ‘Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’. Mostly because you didn’t need him sending you dickpics at three in the morning when he got bored. As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting. 

You did have to wonder what PG-13 texting would be like between the two of you. It had been incredibly rare. All of your text conversations before living together at the Tower were R-rated enough to send anybody who read them into a mental meltdown. 

Before you could wonder if you should send him a message, making it clear that he wasn’t to pull any of his typical fuckboy antics, you opened his latest message, and a large smile ripped across your face. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I miss you like hell.’ 

You hated that you grinned uncontrollably and your stomach flipped like a teenager with a stupid crush, but you couldn’t help it. Jason just made you feel like that these days. Even just knowing that he had been missing you too - that he had been thinking about you. That was something that had you floating as you typed out your reply, trying not to seem too desperate in your response. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Gotham must be really boring if you miss hanging out with me.’ 

You sent back the simple message and opened another app, browsing while you waited for his reply, trying not to seem too eager. 

Moments later, your phone buzzed again. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gotham is Gotham. It’s always been a boring shithole. The only time it’s not boring is when some fucker in a mask is trying to kill everyone.’ 

So very Jason. Before you could reply, he sent another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Plus, it’s not just hanging out with you that I miss. ;)’ 

Leave it to him to make even a virtual wink look so incredibly sleazy. Somehow, it brought up fond feelings within you because you had missed him so much. 

You resisted the urge to tell him to cool it. Especially because your grandmother was sitting at the table with you. But you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and start sending his cock out of nowhere. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Oh, you make it sound so appealing for me to visit.’ 

Then you quickly added on: 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’ 

It was only a moment before your messages were seen, and you could practically hear Jason’s dry laughter in response, even though he was so far away. You felt validated when he sent you back several laughter emojis and then quickly typed out another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I am, actually. First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza. Aka the only reason I keep coming back to this shithole.’ 

You couldn’t help but to grin at the thought of it. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands, almost embarrassed at just how cheek-splitting your smile was - waiting for someone to call you out on it. 

Your imagination ran away with you, and you couldn’t help but to feel warm, thinking about yourself living out his ideal day in Gotham. Being warm in his arms again, feeling his touch all over your body. Getting thoroughly fucked and only leaving his bed when the call of those in need beckoned you both to action. 

You soon began picturing yourself in some spandex costume - something you didn’t yet have and made fun of Jason for wearing so often, perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either. You imagined yourself in something themed around a hero name with an ice pun to suit your powers, kicking ass beside Jason while he proudly carried the mantle of Robin. The two of you taking down criminals like a perfectly paired team and topping off your night with pizza from a familiar place that Jason praised.

You began typing again. 

… Robin’s Ice Machine is typing …. 

‘You wanna make it a date, Jay?’ 

But you feared that it would sound too forward. That he was simply joking about all of it and you would seem too eager. So you deleted that message before you sent it and typed out something else instead. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You brave the streets of downtown Gotham just for pizza?’

The Flightless Bird: ‘It’s worth it.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I guess they probably give Robin the hero discount.’ 

You typed out the message and sent it without thinking. 

You had been so absorbed in your own world over the past few weeks that you had no clue that Robin hadn’t been active on the streets of Gotham for a while. You hadn’t checked the news or hadn’t thought to check in with the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar) to ask for updates. 

But ever since Jason had gotten back to Gotham - Robin hadn’t seen a night of patrol, his costume quarantined away in the Batcave like Bruce considered him some kind of disease. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I wouldn’t know.’ 

You found this reply to be confusing, but waited patiently while Jason typed out more. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Bruce has me benched. He said I’m not allowed to take on Robin again until I get “cleared” by a fucking shrink. Like I’m a fucking war vet or something. He’s acting like I jumped off that building on purpose or some shit.’ 

You wanted to remind him that in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving. But you didn’t want to rub salt into the wounds. Instead, you felt curious about his words and hoped that he wouldn’t clam up if you went prodding. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Bruce has you seeing a shrink?’

You were more than tense with curiosity at this point. More than anything, you wondered if it was actually helping Jason, or if he was just going through the motions, trying to please Bruce. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Someone named Leslie. Wants me to talk about my feelings and be vulnerable and all that type of bullshit.’ 

For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Maybe it’s not a bad idea.’ 

… The Flightless Bird is typing … 

The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply. Your stomach twisted up and you hated it. You hated to think that you might have insulted him. 

Finally, after a few long moments, he sent something back. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’ 

There it was. He was terrified that you thought he was broken. That because he had to go to therapy - it meant he was weak. That’s probably what Bruce thought. Or why he feared that he had been benched from being Robin. 

You carefully chose your words as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know.’ 

You easily sent in a single message, and he read it quickly. And then, you moved on to adding more, clarifying your words. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know if you’re crazy or not, and I don’t care.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’ 

You sent the messages, and then thought of something important to add. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘There is no normal well adjusted person in the world who would understand me like you do. Fuck normal people.’ 

(On the other end, Jason grinned and sighed with relief when he read these messages.) 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Fuck normal people.’ 

Jason easily echoed back the sentiment, and then he said something that you weren’t entirely expecting. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘This therapy bullshit has got me thinking about a lot of things.’

You resisted the urge to make a ‘don’t hurt yourself’ joke - but you knew that he was sensitive, and you should encourage him to open up rather than make jokes. It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better. 

While you were mulling that over in your head, Jason typed out another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’ 

You were curious what he meant by this. Did he want to quit being Robin? Had he come to realize that everything Dick said about Bruce was actually true? 

When that argument came up, multiple times, you were never sure whose side to choose. You had never known the man personally, but you did find it strange that Jason seemed to idolize him and Dick seemed to resent him like he was some kind of cartoon villain. If anything, it made you wary and cautious of Bruce. 

Especially because you knew that Jason had been intensely dependent on Bruce when they first met - he had just aged out of foster care, and he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin. And who would really make that choice when three square a day, a giant mansion, and a shining costume are staring you in the face? Especially after everything else Jason had been through - all the adults who had given up on him, told him he was nothing. Then he was being presented with the chance to truly be something, someone so damn important.

Again, before you could question him, Jason saw that you had read the message and moved to explain himself further. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘When I was at the Tower, I thought that being away from him…’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I thought that not being Robin was a punishment. But now I know that it was really good for me. And not for the reasons he thinks - not because I was benched and focusing on training.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’ 

Your heart ached reading this. 

So that was why he idolized Bruce so much. He thought that he would be nothing without the old man. He didn’t see all of his own strength and determination that he put into Robin. He didn’t see all of his own bravery and resolute stubbornness.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Now I realize that I can be something without him.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I know it sounds like sappy bullshit, but you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’ 

You re-read the message a few times over, those words clutching at your throat, nearly bringing you to tears. For a long time, a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you. 

You thought that you had been fighting a losing battle, trying to comfort someone who didn’t want it, or wouldn’t accept it. But reading those words, feeling the rawness of their honesty - it flowed through you and hit you with a radical force. 

You actually helped him. 

You thought he was too stubborn and hard-headed to get through to, but hearing it directly from him - that was nice. It was more than nice, it was… it shook you to your core. 

Your phone vibrated in your hand again, and you realized that you had gone too long without responding. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’ 

Clearly he thought that he had frightened you off. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Not too much.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Good. So you won’t think it’s too much if I tell you that I’ve been looking at apartments?’ 

Wait - what? 

You had barely finished reading the message before he sent you a screenshot of an online listing - a picture of some shady, broken-down building. When you glanced at the address, you were almost sure that it was in downtown Gotham.

You wanted to believe that Jason was joking. But from the general tone of the conversation, he didn’t seem to be. He was eager to get away from Bruce, to be out on his own. 

Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice. This time because you were… what? Friends? Lovers?

You armed yourself with humor as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Jason, that’s downtown Gotham. It’s a shithole.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’ 

You let out a small chuckle at his joke. You could practically hear him reciting the words with a fake snooty accent to drive home his point, but you eagerly felt the need to correct him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Hey, I grew up in shitholes too. You know a lot of the time I didn’t even have a roof, Jay.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yes, and you slept on a bed of bricks and ate dirt for dinner. Oliver Twist ass. You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘The correct tense is: poorer.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’ 

You couldn’t hold back a small bit of laughter at this. One of the things he hated most was you correcting his grammar, and you still found it highly amusing.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘My point is that all this fancy shit makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t even sit down on the furniture at my grandmother’s properly.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know. It looks… sketchy.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘It is. It’s a sketchy ass neighborhood.’ 

You started typing out a reply full of protests against this, wondering why he would want the two of you to live in a place that was full of drug dealers and other crime, but he beat you to it with another message - and when you read it, your heart warmed. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’ 

You grinned widely at this again. 

You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’. He was truly onto something here and you didn’t want to ruin the moment for him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I’ll have to see it in person first.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘When I come to Gotham.’ 

You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.

You finally resigned to the idea, feeling a certain kind of joy in making plans with him. You were entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of looking forward to the future. It was delightfully strange. 

For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future. 

On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself, knowing that he would hold you to the promise of coming to Gotham to visit him. Knowing that once he had you in town, he would somehow talk you into getting an apartment with him. 

This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘You could be on a plane tomorrow.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I’ll pay for your ticket.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You mean Daddy would?’ 

You knew Jason was rolling his eyes at this, and while he rushed to type out protests about Bruce being his ‘Daddy’, you corrected his initial thought. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I can’t come tomorrow, anyway. My trip isn’t supposed to end for another week, at least.’ 

You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Well, don’t take too long. I miss your stupid face.’ 

In your mind, the only proper response to this was to open your camera and take a picture of yourself - one crudely sticking your tongue out and flipping him off.

You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’ 

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen. 

You rolled your eyes, and bit your lip to suppress another stupid giddy smile. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘And you’re a charming asshole, as always.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘But I guess you’re mine.’ 

You sent the last part without much thought, feeling a twist in your gut when Jason read it and didn’t immediately reply. You stared at the screen for several long moments, waiting for something, wondering how he would react - 

But then your attention was snapped away from your conversation with Jason when your grandmother let out a loud snort and woke from her nap. 

“Playing with that brick again?” She said, sounding quite displeased. 

Though you felt anxious, wondering if you had scared Jason away with your affection, you locked the screen and put the phone back into your pocket.

“Sometimes these ‘bricks’ can be useful.” You told her. “Maybe you should get one.” 

You suggested it on the idea that you could communicate with her more easily once your trip was over, though you knew what her stance on the matter was. It didn’t hurt to try. 

“Oh deary. I’d never want to strain my eyes looking at that. You know what they say - old dogs, and such.” She let out a small yawn. “Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.” 

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from. 

… 

Jason wasn’t sure why he did it. 

Bruce told him not to. It should have been obvious that it was a trap. If history had anything to say about it - the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught. Unless he was planning something and he wanted a lot of people to get caught up in the smoke. 

Unless the Joker blatantly wanted attention, then he stayed hidden. 

Maybe it was the Anti-Fear Gas. Maybe Jason needed to prove that he was brave. That he was good enough to take up the mantle of Robin again - even if he didn’t necessarily want it. Deep down, he needed to prove to himself that he was good enough for you. That he wasn’t just some broken bird that you needed to fix.

Jason thought the drug made him brave, but it probably just made him stupid. He thought this would be a good field test for it. But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended. 

When Bruce said that fear served him, he had no clue that this is what the old man meant. 

The Anti-Fear Gas made perfect conditions for someone to sneak up on him. 

He heard the cackling laughter - a sound coming from one of those stupid carnival machines, or from the Joker himself, he wasn’t sure - before he even realized what was going on. There was a bag over his head and some heavy, hazy drug forced under his nose. 

He was stupid. 

He thought he learned something from the incident with Doctor Light. 

But it turns out that he was just as stupid as everyone accused him of being. 

Because when he woke up, he was right back there. Tied to a chair. Confused. And when the Anti-Fear Gas started to wear off - he was scared. Utterly terrified. Just like he had been on that night. 

Bruce was at some investors’ meeting halfway around the world. When Jason didn’t pick up his calls, didn’t answer his texts - he thought that Jason was still pissed off about the fight they had before he left. Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing. 

Nobody even noticed that he was gone. 

… 

When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut. 

The next time you looked at your phone, he had left you on read, and you had an utterly horrible feeling about it. Your stomach twisted over on itself, you became ripe with worry. You immediately wanted to cry to Dick about it, beg him to go searching for Jason’s tracker, or at the very least, call Bruce and ask to confirm where Jason was. 

But technically - you had nothing to cry about. 

Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He didn’t owe you anything. Especially not his time. He didn’t owe you an immediate reply to your messages. He wasn’t supposed to be at your beckoned call like a loyal dog. 

You had to guess that he got busy training. That he was angry with Bruce, so he was spending extra hours at the gym, working off that anger. Maybe he had doubled down on the apartment search and he was somewhere in downtown Gotham, looking at more shitholes where he didn’t have any service. 

At the very worst, you thought maybe you had scared him off with your affection. You thought maybe he was finally realizing that he didn’t want that big, scary thing with you, and he was getting ready to run away from it. Maybe he was debating blocking your number so that he didn’t have to break-off this non-relationship with you. 

Maybe he had met someone else. 

You went over the possibilities - made yourself sick, wondering why he wasn’t answering you. 

But you had never considered the most sickening possibility of them all. 

… 

As usual, the Joker had seemingly no aim with his chaos. 

He took Jason to some random location. Tied him up, hit him. Some of the Joker’s goons came and went. The Joker talked about potentially setting Jason out as ‘bait’ for the Bat to come and get. Jason wanted to tell him that his precious Bat was out of town, but he couldn’t risk revealing Bruce’s identity if he divulged that information. 

If that was the Joker’s plan - using Jason as bait - he waited a long time to get on with it. 

He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways. 

Jason watched the sun rise and fall three different times - through a tiny window in whatever place they were keeping him. When darkness fell on the fourth day, his eyes were becoming too swollen to see light anymore. 

Jason tried not to flinch when he heard footsteps approaching. 

Every single inch of Jason’s body ached - he was sure that he had fingers broken, an arm broken. Broken ribs. He had several missing teeth, and he was leaking blood freely into his mouth. If he did get out of this, he would be severely fucked up for the rest of his life. 

But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this. 

A cold hand moved across his forehead, and instinctively, he flinched away from it. The Joker tutted his tongue, and other voices came - echoes of laughter in the room, goons he had brought along with him. 

“So shy, Little Birdie.” The Joker’s voice mocked him. “You weren’t so shy when you came looking for me… in fact, you were eager then. Eager, eager, eager. Eager to play my games. But you don’t wanna play now, do you?”

Jason was exhausted. But he knew that he couldn’t give up. If he stopped fighting, then the Joker had won. 

“Fuck you.” Jason said, fighting past blood flowing in his mouth, deflated, clearly tired. 

But he was still fighting. 

The Joker laughed. 

Cruel. Harsh. 

“Well, I’ll take that as a sign - game on!” 

The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched. There was another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason expected that the ‘game’ would be something violent. Removing his fingers, having the goons take turns to hit him harder. Perhaps they would strap him to some kind of target and make up point values for his different limbs and then have a knife throwing contest around him. 

But no. 

It seemed that they were growing bored of physical violence. 

Something that Jason hadn’t even thought of - an utterly terrifying possibility. 

With his eyes out of commission, he was relying on his ears more. He heard a small click, a button being pushed - if he wasn’t mistaken, it was someone trying to wake the lockscreen of a phone. It was very close to his head. 

“My, my, that is a pretty one.” The Joker teased. 

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, causing a painful sting in his likely broken ribs as an even more painful realization hit him. 

They had taken his phone. The Joker was talking about you. 

He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger - 

“Tell me, does this pretty thing have a name?” 

The Joker chuckled - Jason thought maybe the phone with your picture was being waved in front of his face, but he couldn’t quite see it. 

“Oh wait! You can’t see it, can you?” The Joker seemed amused to remember this, his voice light and jaunty as the thought crossed his mind. 

“Fuck you!” Jason spat out, much more energized now, refreshed with the might of protecting you - quite literally spitting blood, hopefully getting some on the clown. 

The Joker simply let out another cackling laugh. 

There was a ping. A text message coming in. 

Let it be Bruce. Let it be Dick. Let it be Gar, for fuck’s sake. Anybody but you. 

“You know, this friend of yours sends an awful lot of text messages.” 

The Joker chuckled, putting emphasis on that word, clearly mocking Jason’s relationship status with you. Even with his psychotic mind, he could see that Jason loved you more than he cared to admit, and he was terrified to speak it aloud. 

“‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’” 

Jason’s skin crawled when the Joker read a text from you aloud. 

You were worried. 

Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried. 

“Well, that’s almost sweet.” The Joker sniggered. “You’ve been ignoring these for days now! That’s rude!” 

Another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason was then struck with the realization that because of his current situation - idiotically kidnapped, tied to a chair, beaten - he had been ignoring you for days. He had unintentionally caused you to worry, on top of everything else. He had hurt you. 

Had you sent someone looking for him? Would he actually somehow get out of this? Was there a chance that he might actually be rescued? 

“I think we should answer. Your sweet little friend deserves some closure - a load off the mind, you know.” 

The Joker’s voice took on a menacing dark tone as he said this. 

Jason’s insides clenched with horror. They had tortured him in almost every way imaginable - taken it as far as they could without actually killing him. They had inflicted all kinds of pain on his body. Now they were going to torture his mind. 

They were pulling you into their game as a fucked up pawn. 

“No!” Jason tried to weakly protest, but then, entirely against his will, came the sound of his phone unlocking. “Fuck you!” 

He hadn’t put a password on it yet. It was relatively new - a present Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection. He hadn’t gotten around to putting a password on it yet. 

Another stupid mistake. 

Jason nearly lost his breath when he heard ringing. The Joker wasn’t just going to reply to your text messages - he was calling you. 

Whatever happened to Jason next - whatever torture, whatever pain they inflicted upon him - they were going to make you listen. 

… 

One thing you had come to learn over the past week: rich people have a lot of peculiar habits. 

Your grandmother would insist that you be there for afternoon tea at three o’clock sharp, and apparently having too much sugar in your tea was considered rude, because it was a reflection of the quality of the tea that the host had presented you with. She insisted that you ‘dress for dinner’ - which meant that you weren’t allowed to wear sweatpants at her formal dining table, and even ripped jeans were frowned upon. Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot. 

But as much as she had scolded you for your brutish, poor people ways - you had managed to bring her around to some of your ways of life. You showed her how binging reality shows could be fun, and that not all types of processed junk food were terribly beyond her taste. 

It was probably why you were putting up with this now. The garden party. 

You were surprised that she had been able to put together a party this elaborate so quickly. But she said that it was necessary because she had insisted that she wanted you to meet all of her friends. 

You thought that it would be just a few people; no more than would fill up the dozen chairs that she had at her exceedingly large fancy dining table. But you grew more anxious as cars filled the long driveway and more people filled the ‘garden’ out back, picking at tables that had been set up with expensive catered food and sipping on drinks that were being poured by a bartender that had been highered last minute. 

Of course - your grandmother insisted on picking an outfit for you. She didn’t bring herself to care where exactly on the gender spectrum you fell - she didn’t even bring up your birth gender at all, which surprised you, since she had known you as a baby. She simply took it at face value when you introduced yourself to her by name and the two of you easily rolled with things from there. It was strange for an old woman, especially one so caught up in the history of all the objects in her home. But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away. 

She insisted on picking your clothes because she simply hated your graphic band tee shirts and your ripped jeans, and insisted that you wear something ‘light and airy’ worthy of a garden party. All she had asked before she consulted her personal shopper was if you had a preference of pants or a skirt. And you couldn’t bring yourself to protest, even when you saw the pastel colours that you normally would have utterly hated. 

You weren’t sure why you were trying so hard to impress someone that you barely knew - someone you could barely even call family. Perhaps it was because your mother had treated you so poorly - she had never cared if you were clothed or fed, so having someone buy you expensive new clothes after caring to have ‘family dinner’ with you every night, it was touching. Especially considering that she was throwing an entire party in your honor when your mother hadn’t even wished you ‘happy birthday’ most years - often forgot the day and let it pass without acknowledgment at all. 

Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life. 

Perhaps for the first time since Jason had insisted on stitching up your wound - after he had told you that you being hurt on his behalf in the first place was such a terrible crime. But you didn’t want to think about that too much because you missed him so terribly. 

You did find yourself picky at the itchy, slightly too tight collar as you went downstairs to join the other guests. Your grandmother paraded you around, introduced you to different people. And soon, she abandoned you near one of the snack tables when she was called over by some ‘business associate’. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull out your phone and check - your stomach sank when you saw that there was still nothing from Jason. 

Entirely against your own will, you began typing. 

‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’

You hoped that he would reply soon. Even if it was telling you to fuck off. 

You hated when you got sucked into another conversation with more people you didn’t know. You quickly found yourself mentally begging to be released from the hell as more and more people asked you questions that you couldn’t even begin to form the answers to. 

“What are your top three?” One of the women asked you, looking at you with precise, dissecting eyes. 

‘Top three what?’ You wanted to shriek. 

“My Brandon is going to Dartmouth after summering in Metropolis. Doing a lot of volunteer work there - an angel, he is.” 

The other women standing around you all nodded, giving approving looks with strangely fake smiles, and all you could do was nod and smile along with them. 

‘Summering? Since when is that a verb?’ 

You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying. He would be able to translate all this shit to ‘Oliver Twist’ for you so that you wouldn’t feel like you were suddenly living on some alien planet. 

“Where do you usually summer? When you’re not with your grandmother, that is?” 

You felt more panic rise in you as another question was directed at you, desperately racking your brain for an answer that wouldn’t make you sound stupidly out of place to them. 

Luckily, before you had to stumble your way through the interaction, your phone began to vibrate in the pocket of the overly expensive blazer that your grandmother had made you wear. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief at the chance for distraction - even though it was probably a spam call, or Gar, calling to complain that he was lonely because Rachel wasn’t back from her trip yet. (Without you and Jason there, and with Rachel extending her stay on Themyscira, he near constantly complained to you that he was lonely, and that he hated everyone leaving.) 

But still, you jumped at the chance to escape the many pairs of eyes, staring at you, studying your every move like you were a very fascinating bug. Looking at you like you were something that didn’t belong there. 

“I have to take this.” You grinned at them, reaching to grab your phone out of your pocket. 

You moved away from the group of clucking hens, hoping for some privacy in the conversation. Even if it was just Gar, you would use this opportunity to stall for as long as possible before being pulled back into the party. 

When you took your phone out and saw Jason’s contact photo lighting up the screen, you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke across your cheeks. It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day.

Pure, unadulterated joy. That stupid teenager crush igniting your insides yet again. 

You moved toward the refreshment table, knowing that you looked like an idiot as you stared down at your phone, smiling so widely. 

You knew that you were in too deep. That you probably felt far more deeply for him than he did for you - that you would have dared to call it that deep, ‘tied together forever’ thing, and he probably wouldn’t. 

But you were caring less and less each day. You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart. 

At this point, you were just along for the ride. 

A very small voice in the back of your head told you that maybe he was calling to break things off with you. Maybe, all this time that he had gone without speaking to you, he had been waiting, working up the courage, finding the right words to tell you that he was truly done with you. 

But no. That wouldn’t be the case. 

He had simply been busy. And now, he was calling to tell you what a hectic, shitty few days it had been, how much he had missed you - 

“Hey, asshole. I don’t know if you leeched some of Rach’s psychic powers, but you called just in time to save me.” 

You breathed into the receiver as soon as you picked up, throwing out a casual greeting, knowing that Jason wouldn’t be offended by the words. 

“I always hesitate to say that you were right, but I am beginning to regret not taking you up on that offer to come with me. You should see some of these rich, stuck-up snobs - you would be laughing your ass off if you were here right now.” 

There was a long silence. 

Your stomach dropped. 

On the other end, you had no clue that Jason felt that exact same sting of regret about not coming with you. If he had - the two of you could have been safe and happy together. 

Fear clutched at your throat. 

It was a basic instinct, but you knew that the silence wasn’t a good thing. You thought that all of your worst fears were about to come true. That Jason was about to tell you that he was truly done with you, that he never actually felt anything for you in the first place, and he was just working up the courage to speak the words aloud. 

But it was so much worse than that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. 

A single, ragged breath. 

Air struggling to get in and out of his lungs past broken bone - pain. 

Standing in the radiance of a warm, pleasant afternoon, with people mingling happily all around you - all the life drained from you. All the happiness sucked out of the world in a matter of seconds. 

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, wanted to cry out for help. 

There was a unique cruelty in the fact that everyone else in the garden simply went on, chatting, laughing, engaging in merriment. The fact that they went about their stupid party, having no clue that a world away, in Gotham - a great tragedy was taking place. 

All of those rich assholes sipped their drinks and carried on with their day, having no clue that your world was about to end. 

“Jason?” 

You knew that your voice was so utterly wounded, small and terrified. You made no effort to hide it. 

There was a harsh sound - a collision of flesh, a groan. A hit. It was a sound that somehow made your guts twist in on themselves even more. 

“Go on, Robin.” 

That voice wasn’t Jason. It wasn’t someone you knew. It was wicked and harsh and made you want to scream. All you could do was swallow around a thick dryness that had formed in your throat - like sandpaper had been put there. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t do anything more than listen. 

“Go on, answer your pretty friend.” 

Jason sucked in another harsh breath, and sputtered out a cough. 

“I - I fucked up.” Jason said, his voice ragged. “I fucked up big time.” 

You felt a hot, wet tear run down your face before you realized that you were crying. Your legs were filled with concrete and you felt the world spinning on its axis. It was a miracle that you managed to stay standing upright. 

You couldn’t even comprehend how you might have looked to someone else in those moments, and truthfully it didn’t matter. No one else at the party even noticed the terrible grief that had struck you. They simply carried on, absorbed in their own little world. 

“Jason?” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life. 

And you couldn’t do anything about it. 

What the fuck could you do about it? 

“What happened?” You rushed to ask, your voice full of breath, full of fear. “What’s happening?” 

More tears poured down your face, and you swallowed around the tightness of your throat, forcing a clearness to be able to speak. 

“I made a mistake.” Jason said, his voice coming out in a tight wheeze as he struggled to breathe. “I - I never should have gotten you involved in this.” 

You knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for letting you get close to him. For giving you the potential to get hurt. 

“No!” You easily argued back. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it. 

You needed him to know that. You needed him to know. 

“Jason, I-” 

You hesitated for a moment before you said it. Before you crossed that line into the abyss. Your voice clouded with the thickness of your tears when you finally said the words. 

“I love you.” 

When he heard it, Jason let out a wounded howl. 

You thought that he had been stabbed. You let out a sob of your own, echoing his pain. 

You did not know that it was these words alone that damned him. It was something that hurt him more than any baseball bat crashing down over his knees or any brass knuckles against his jaw ever could have. 

Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved. You had sentenced him to dying with the knowledge that he was the worst piece of shit to ever touch your life. That he truly had rotted everything good about you - just like he had promised. 

You could have chosen anyone else, and you chose to love the stupid, fucked up, idiotic Jason Todd. The man who was about to die due to his own incompetence. 

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” The stranger’s voice was there again, mocking you. 

You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him. 

You were about to open your mouth again, about to promise that you would find him and rescue him in time. 

And then another pillar of hell struck you. 

“Now, it’s time for the little birdie to go bye-bye.” 

You couldn’t even muster your voice again, couldn’t scream out against this. Your throat was swollen shut, like an allergic reaction to the tragedy as it happened. 

There was a silence - a second of your life that swallowed you whole like an abyss of fifty endless years. 

And then, that silence was cut through by the worst sound you had ever been forced to hear. 

A gunshot. 

The sound was distinctive, clear as day. 

“Jason?!” 

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs - this time, undeniably drawing attention to yourself. Even the plastic party goers couldn’t ignore a tragedy of this magnitude. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as multiple of their heads snapped toward you, taking in the now utterly disheveled sight of you, crying, clutching at your phone like it was the most precious thing in the world. 

“Jason?!” You screamed again, your voice nagging into a hopelessly dead line. 

You didn’t know that they had smashed Jason’s phone, disposing of it now that they were done with their game. 

Upon instinct, you ran. Your legs were heavy and felt stupid and you stumbled into multiple people on your way into the house, causing murmurs as the crowd stared at you. You didn’t care. You were panicked, shaking, confused. You made your way up to the guest bedroom that you had been staying in and began frantically shoving your things back into your bag, half-packed when you finally realized that you had no clue where you were going. 

And you collapsed onto the floor, then. Your whole body was weak, overtaken by shock. Clueless and terrified, your chest was barely taking in breath and your own phone slipped out of your shaking hand when you tried to think of your next move. 

For a long time - what felt like endless hours, days - you could do nothing but sit there and desperately try to suck air into your lungs, playing the gunshot sound over and over again in your mind. 

They shot Jason. They shot Jason. They had shot Jason. 

Your brain could hardly process it. 

One of your grandmother’s caretakers knocked on the bedroom door and you couldn’t gather words to answer. When she asked you what had happened, you couldn’t even begin to explain. That was when you realized that you had needed concrete answers yourself. So as she left the room to make you some peppermint tea ‘for your nerves’, you forced your shaking hands to work, and you grabbed up your phone again. 

You needed to call Dick. 

He didn’t pick up. Then you called Kory. No dice. Then you called Gar - you could hear the bustle of a crime scene in the background, but he sounded okay. He was talking in his usual bright, excited voice. The Titans had likely just made a bust. He was excited to be making a difference, helping people. 

You sucked down breath and tripped over your own words trying to explain it. Jason was in trouble - a gunshot, he was hurt. He was dead. Gar barely understood, tried arguing against you because you sounded hysterical. But he passed the phone to Dick at your insistence. Dick made sense of your words, and made you wait fifteen long painful minutes until he was back in front of the computer at Titans Tower to give you some kind of answer. 

Jason’s tracker was online. It was in Gotham. It was at the Amusement Mile. 

It wasn’t picking up any heat signature from Jason’s body. That only meant one thing: his body was cold. 

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.”

...

A/N: This is part one of two, and I do have the second part ready to go in my drafts.

Based on the original, Emergency Contact, having around 400 notes, and based on the fact that Jason Todd is a popular character:

I would like to see around 50 reblogs and around 50 comments on this before I post the next part.

Which I do think is a modest ask - if the same amount of people who enjoyed the original show up to read this sequel, then I will be asking one quarter of those people to comment or reblog. And I say 'around' because if I see a good amount of people commenting and reblogging, even if we don't meet the goal, then I will post the next part more quickly.

(I just don't want another incident to happen where people stop commenting immediately as the goal is met and then I end up with 30 comments and 900 likes, clearly showing that people don't care to support a fic even if they clearly enjoyed it.)

However, if you are going to comment, please do not just comment asking for the next part or asking when the next part will be posted, please comment about the body of work that has already been written and posted. I find it inconsiderate and stressful when people only ask for updates. I much prefer to spark a discussion about the existing work that has been written.

Anyway - I am just insanely proud of this fic and I really want to hear what you guys think of it so far!! So please do comment, reblog and rant in the tags, or come to my inbox and chat with me on anon if you're shy. I always wanna hear from fellow Jason Todd lovers and fellow Titans enjoyers.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I may or may not have written a love poem about a COD character and I was wondering how the ones you write for would react to getting love poem from their s/o? Thank you :3

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Love Poem from their S/O

Warnings: Pure Fluff <3, Just Big Military Men™ in Love, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Ghost

Dies on impact.

Will seize up like a mannequin for a solid three hours before he can even open the darn thing.

And when he does, with twitching hands and a flinching heart, the stiffness plaguing his body evaporates.

His heart leaps out of his chest with each passing word, and the world around him grows into blended shades of red and pink.

His skin is prickling, though not with injury, but abashment.

Love.

He’s sweating so much that, by the time he’s finished reading the poem, some of the letters where his fingers have been are smudged.

He panics, tears his hands off the scene as quickly and as delicately as he can before placing the poem somewhere safe.

From that day forward, he can’t seem to keep eye contact for as long as he usually could.

Or remain in as close proximity to you as he would like to.

One may take Ghost’s behaviour as stand-offish, perhaps even rude.

But you know otherwise. Especially when you see the corner of your love note peeking out from the pocket of his tactical vest, knowing that Ghost knows there is no place safer in all the world for it to be kept; the same reason he keeps you by his side. Because you both know that nothing short of an act from God can harm you when he’s there.

König

Regardless of how long you’ve been dating, König will always have to sit down for half an hour or so with your note across from him on the table before he can even bring himself to open it.

Why, you ask ?

Well, when you’ve gone without love for as long as König has, one typically becomes…unaccustomed to such grandiose acts of selflessness.

Especially ones as strong as love.

So, with the contents of your heart bursting onto the paper that König can so easily hold, crumble,tear in his hand, he wants to be extra careful.

To him, you are that paper. And he would rather face Hell and fury than let it get damaged in any way, shape or form.

When he eventually does pluck up the courage to read it, he’s never been so grateful for his veil.

His face blooms a deep red, burning his skin.

He’s certain it would show even beneath the war paint.

He doesn’t want to rush, to take anything you’ve written for granted, so he reads every word twice.

Sure, it takes longer to read your poem, but that isn’t a disadvantage to König.

That’s a bonus.

And he carries your words with him wherever he goes – memorises them like the holy scripture they are.

He doesn’t want to risk your note getting hurt or lost while he’s out at work, so whenever you visit his apartment when he’s away, you see it framed and hung up in his bedroom, right where it will be the last thing he sees as he falls asleep and the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

Soap

Though he won’t show it, he’s a bag of nerves.

But, he’s the type to deal with his anxieties as quickly as possible.

He’ll tear through your note like a summer wolf, thin and growling and restless as he obtains the general vibe of your poem.

But, even with a passing glance, he can feel how strongly you mean them.

When he’s prepared himself for the onslaught of feels your note is going to impart on him, he starts from the beginning.

And takes his time.

He wants to savour every word, every letter and syllable.

And he does.

Believe me, he does.

And when he’s finished reading it over for the eighth time, he folds the paper – carefully – and holds it to his chest.

He can feel his heart thrumming through the paper, feel it in his head like church bells.

And he remembers that feeling.

Whenever he’s scared, doubtful, alone or anxious, he remembers not only the poem, bu the feeling of it.

Your skin palpable in his hands, your spirit watching over him like Heaven’s Phoenix.

And the world isn’t so scary anymore.

Valeria

Don’t tell anyone, but she can feel her whole chest flutter when that slip of paper is pressed between her fingers.

She shuts herself off in a quiet room, unwilling to share your light with anybody else.

She wastes no time in uncrafting the lithe swan you’ve fashioned the paper into, deconstructing it like an anti-god and reducing it to its most basic form.

But that makes it no less beautiful.

Now, your love has nowhere to hide, not between the illusory feathers or the cracks in the body.

And Valeria, her heart stammering, reads your poem.

For a time, she forgets where she is – who she is – as her world is brought into focus with yours, two moons passing in a fleeting eclipse.

And in these twilight moments of you, Valeria feels what no amount of money, work, or euphoria can bring her.

Joy.

She can feel her cheeks lifting the deeper into this Aphroditecal fantasy she descends, for this feels more of a work of fiction than real life.

Caleria brings the paper to her nose when she’s done, her eyes close and in the darkness of her mind forms a likeness of you.

A crude recreation compared to your beauty, but a monument all the same.

And there, Valeria holds you, looks upon you, feels you, knowing that, even though she’s not with you, you can feel her and all the love that weighs her heart and keeps her human.

Price

In all his years of service, he’s seen terrible things, as well as the piques of human selflessness.

Sacrifices for the greater good, for love, the destruction of cities and lives.

But, as he sits at his desk, his cigar extinguished as he gives all his attention to the fragile poem in his hands, his eye twitches.

His heart pounds, spinning an orchestra of drums and nothing else.

Even in his infinite wisdom, his intellect and intuition, Price knows there is nothing in all the world that can prepare him for this.

He knows that, in his hands, he holds art.

In its purest and most innocent form, he holds a sliver of you, a wraith.

He unfurls the paper as if handling the gossamer threads of a spider’s web, the paper reclining into his touch.

And he reads.

He consumes every morsel of amour you’ve packed into the letters of your most soulful confession, that being the most universal phrase there is.

I love you.

Price is glad for his hat for, as he reaches your signature at the bottom of the note, he can feel his throat burning, his eyes stinging and straining.

A tear, mythical in its nature, a family of one in a species thought extinct, takes to the table. Makes it its home.

Price’s fist clenches, your note remaining uncastracted in his other hand.

He needs to be with you. Now.

And he does everything in his power to make it home to you.

Horangi

Considering how bare his existence once was – owing money to some very choice individuals, making poor choices, living a bleak existence – Horangi feels nothing short of overwhelmed when your poem sits in his hands.

His heart throbs and he can barely keep still as your love lies between a folded page.

And, excavating it, reading of its expanse and extent, Horangi’s throat goes dry.

All he can think, wonder, is what he did to receive such unconditional, unfathomable love.

And from you, of all people !

Horangi reads, re-reads, re-re-reads that poem every day, regardless of the time or how exhausted he is.

When he’s away from you, settling into bed for the night, he likes to imagine you there with him, laying at his side, your head on his chest.

And you recite the song of your undying love for him.

“I love you more,” he says to the darkness.

His words don’t carry to you, but he hopes beyond hope that the feeling, the sincerity, does.

In a world where hate is the greatest weapon, love is Horangi’s greatest defence.

Truly, with your letter nestled into the wristband of his uniform, right where his pulse is, Horangi knows there is nothing in the world that can hurt him.

Alejandro

He already knows what your poem is going to say.

How can he not ?

You’ve both already said all that can be said to each other a million times.

Every form and configuration of love is no mystery to the pair of you, having found and documented and catalogued each one.

Nevertheless, there is a harpstring thrum in Alejandro’s chest as he unravel your note, merely a bundle of thin strips of paper fashioned into an iridescent, gift-topping mass of brightly-coloured ribbon.

Each sentence could be read in any way, any order, any direction, and still make sense.

And Alejandro smiled, widely and unabashedly, for he knew the world that went into it. Felt the love, joy and logic that was demanded by your unique form of love.

And Alejandro read each strand.

For hours, he read each sentence backwards, forwards, in different orders, until every combination had been discovered. Found.

And, despite his preconceived notion that every form of love had already been ventured by you and him, he found excitement and gratitude for his incorrect assumption spark in his centre.

Much of the poem was familiar to Alejandro, yet the sentiment was…different.

It was not spoken in neither the dark hours of the night, nor the morn, but laid bare on paper in pen and ink.

Tangible.

Alejandro kept the bundle in a locked box in the wardrobe, covered by blankets.

And on missions where the hours gruel and the light never comes, he walks through his house, a phantom, brushes past you while you sleep.

He sees into the wardrobe, into the box, and reads your poem.

And he can feel the sun flicker against his eyelids.

Rodolfo

Giddy.

Does a little twitching dance and a squeal when he receives your poem.

And he squirrels himself away into another room, away from where anybody could see him and judge him, to read your note.

The love and effort you put into it is palpable in his hands, a live, beating heart.

And when he reads, he does not look upon your creation as literature, but as a painting.

He watches the shape of the words, a bobbing, oceanic rhythm, a tide lunging and baying.

When this planet is mapped, every continent, country, county and city, Rodolfo allows himself to read.

And he is lost to this familiar terrain, this best-selling concept which all artists mimic in some proportion or another, yet all fail exceedingly in their lack of experience.

And Rodolfo knows that you are writing from experience.

His experience.

Your tale of adoration is so distinctly and universally that of love that it could not be construed as anything but.

Love in both its simplest and most intricate form; to weave the fabric of your consciousness into the incomparably simple and cognitive language of humans.

Rudy doesn’t even let Alejandro see the letter.

To him, it is his slice of Heaven, a page from a human Bible, a declaration of epic proportions.

And the blanket warmth that overcomes him whenever he thinks of that poem – of you – fends off all manner of nature, of destruction and callousness.

Because, at the end of it all, no matter how dire the circumstances seem, Rodolfo can remember that, even if he dies, or succumbs to a medical sleep from which he will not wake, he was closer to Heaven alive than he is then for he, if only for a second, had you.

And you have him.

Graves

Just because he’s Graves doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate art.

On the contrary; he’s so rich that he studies it in his spare time for fun.

And not just your Michaelangelos or your Klimts or your O’Keefes.

This man knows art as if he’s created it.

And all that knowledge, that recognition and appreciation for art and artists either forgotten or rewarded by time is nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of uh-oh he gets when he receives your letter.

At first, he’s unsure as to what it is. But, inspecting your handwriting, the neat folds in the letter, he’s calmed by the fact that you did not write it in a hurry, nor did you seem panicked or hastened to get it to him.

But that begged the question…what were the contents ?

And, with neither caution, nor trepidation, he tore open your letter.

The desire to be patient has never haunted Graves more than it did in this moment.

The content of your letter didn’t sink in, even as he skimmed over it like blades across ice.

It was only after he’d finished it, laid it on the table, that his understanding unfurled.

Realisation dawning on him, he snatched the note back up, eyes softening as he noticed a crinkle along the edge, and re-read it.

It felt as if the words which were invisible to him before suddenly seeped through the paper, the letter feeling longer now yet not long enough.

Graves’ heart fluttered.

For the first time in…his entire life, Graves’ chest tightened with the feeling of crawling.

Restlessness.

He sucked the inside of his cheek between his teeth, his gaze settling on nothing in particular, only the off-white of your note and its incantations legible to him.

He knew the tune of this mood, heard it, saw it in other people, yet never recognised it in himself.

Until today.

A distant song, a relic of a time passed, he thought and thought, in his desolate office, for its title, its origin.

And it hit him.

The artist was you – your soundtrack to love.

And Graves was simply one of your instruments.

Leaning back in his chair, his discovery urging a smile onto his face, Graves looked back to the poem.

He knew all that you displayed so plainly for him to see was, in no uncertain terms, love.

However, what he didn’t expect, what had knocked him so far back that he was now staring at the dimly lit ceiling, the constellation of you appearing in his mind’s eye, was for it to afflict him, too.

Something that, until you, had never happened before.

Gaz

War is exhausting. Especially on someone as young as Gaz.

That’s why, when that little note with your handwriting emblazoned across the front lands in his hands, the weight of the world is lifted from his shoulders.

And your poem is nothing short of tranquilising as Gaz soaks the love poured into them, basking in a warm glow of a man-made sun.

He holds your poem to his lips and presses a spectral kiss to the letters, able to feel, just for a second, your lips doing the same.

Your letter is kept stored away safely with others you’ve sent over the past few weeks, in a padlocked box beneath Gaz’s bed which, occasionally, even he can’t access because he’s hidden the key so well.

He never takes your poems for granted, often reading them to help him get to sleep on the nights where work is particularly taxing.

And when he comes home, he plans on returning the favour tenfold.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 . ”

CHAPTER 01 ──── GOOD ASSISTANT ! ‹3

characters : gojo, makima, megumi, nobara, yuji

context : you start to meet this strange lady, odd enough she takes interest in you, and this random white haired guy too. sooner or later you a 'jujutsu sorcerer' and meet sukunas vessel. twins!!

authors notes : this better blow up or im crying...

warnings : ooc, male!reader, male pronouns, reader referred as 'you', chapter takes place in ep 1 of jjk, plus extra non canon stuff, mistakes probably..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

UNKNOWN LOCATION

JANUARY 7 , 2009 04:32:18

You wake up to the cool sensation of grass beneath your fingers, soft and damp from the night air. It’s dark—so dark that you can barely make out your surroundings. A thick, inky blackness stretches out in every direction, swallowing the horizon. The sky above has doors—different shapes, sizes, and colours, each standing upright without walls or frames to support them. Some are tall and imposing, carved from dark wood with intricate patterns.

“[Name]-kun.”

You blinked, trying to process the voice. “Who is this?”

A figure stepped into view, you can’t make out the details. It’s human, or atleast looks human. Feminine body, and glowing spiral yellow eyes, “My name is Makima. I assume you're [Name]? Correct.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Yes… Where are we.?”

“My ‘domain’. Hell. There’s really nothing here but us, don’t worry about that white albino paintbrush listening in. Let’s chat!”

She sits down near your head as your body automatically seem to get closer to her lap. She rests her hands on your hair, gently stroking it.

“Let’s make a contract–binding vow, shall we? We’ll discuss this topic at a different time, but for now we can just get to know one another.”

You considered her words, the weight of the offer sinking in.“Alright.”

TOKYO METROPOLITAN CURSE TECHNICAL COLLEGE

JUNE 14, 2015 , 07:27:02

“Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey~!” The white-haired, blindfolded man exclaimed, turning toward you with a playful grin.

Who is this guy? You thought, feeling the tight ropes binding you and surrounded by a chaotic mix of talismans. As your vision slowly cleared, you studied him closely—he seemed oddly familiar. Why?

“Why am I here?” You managed to ask, still trying to regain your bearings.

The blindfolded man flashed an infuriating smirk, ” Great, just what I needed…” You thought, annoyed.

“For your execution, of course!”

“My execution?”

“Yup, yours! But…”

“But?” you echoed, your confusion deepening.

You watched as he stood up, crossing his arms with a confident air. “You won’t be executed if you agree to be my assistant, [Name]-chan.”

“What—who the hell are you?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to get a better look.

“It’s me, Gojo Satoru. If you accept my offer, you can live. What do you say, hm?”

You sat in silence as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I really need a strong assistant, [Name]-chan.”

“Ugh, fine! Just don’t touch my ear, you weirdo,” you replied, instinctively leaning away from him.

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

YOKOHAMA , SANKEIEN GARDEN

JUNE 5, 2018 21:48:29

BANG—!

You stepped down hard on the curse’s head, the sickening crunch echoing in the stillness of the night. Disgust twisted your features as you felt the remnants of the creature’s essence ooze beneath their boot.

“Gross.” You spat. You glanced up at the sky, now draped in deep shades of indigo and very few shades of orange.. It was a beautiful scene, the upcoming stars twinkling like distant memories. You could enjoy this scene…

“[Name]-chan, look here!” Gojou shouted.

Nevermind.

“Gojo-sa—”

“Call me Satoru, silly!” he interrupted.

With a resigned sigh, you replied, “Satoru-san, why did you let me exorcize such a weakling?” They removed their black coat, using it to wipe the blood splatter from their face, feeling both exhilarated and slightly exasperated.

“Well, I like seeing you like this!” he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Noticing a streak of the curse’s blood on Gojou’s cheek, You pointed at it, a playful glint in their eye. “Something wrong, [Name]-chan?”

Gojou looked at the finger pointing at his cheek, and it suddenly clicked for him—you wanted a kiss! Of course, who wouldn’t want to kiss the great Satoru Gojo? He leaned down, dramatically pressing his lips against the spot, a teasing grin on his face. “Is that what you wanted?”

Annoyance flashed in your eyes as they rolled them. “No. There was some blood on your cheek.” You wiped the blood away, their voice steady. “And we have another ‘mission’, we found Sukuna's finger.”

“Well then, let’s get going! Ooh! I also want to stop by a famous mochi restaurant on our way!” Gojo exclaimed, grabbing your wrist and leading them away with an eager tug.

As you walked toward the train station, you felt a sudden presence behind you. A familiar weight settled as someone clung their arms around their neck.

“[Name]-kun,” Came the sultry voice, dripping with irritation. You recognized it instantly—Makima, she was not pleased. “Why did that man kiss you?” She rested her head against his shoulder.

“I… didn’t expect him to do it, so shut up...” You mumbled, swatting her away with a half-hearted gesture

JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

JUNE 5, 2018 22:02:01

“Under Jujusten Regulation, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!” Megumi declared.

“Hold up, I’m fine!” Yuji replied, raising his hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Besides, both of us are kinda beaten up,” he added, glancing down at his body where the tattoos—symbols of his connection to Sukuna—began to slowly fade away, like shadows dissipating at dawn.

“We should go to the hospital,” Yuji suggested, his tone shifting to one of concern.

Megumi hesitated, his mind racing, ‘I can’t tell if it’s really him or if it’s the special grade object influencing him, he thought anxiously. Damn, what should I do?’

Just then, a white-haired figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s the situation?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just materialised from thin air.

“Gojo-sensei? [Name]-sama? What are you both doing here?” Megumi stammered, momentarily caught off guard.

Gojo chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, although hidden by the blindfold, you could sense it. “Well, I heard from a little birdie that Sukuna’s finger was in the area,” he explained, his tone teasing as he reached for his phone.

He was interrupted as you snatched the device from his hands. “Plus, the higher-ups wouldn’t stop nagging about a missing special-grade object!” Gojo continued, unperturbed. “And I dragged [Name] along while I was out sightseeing. By the way, did you manage to find it?”

“Uh… I ate it,” Yuji confessed sheepishly.

A stunned silence fell over the group. “For real?” You and Gojo echoed simultaneously, eyes wide in disbelief.

“For real,” Yuji and Megumi parroted back.

Gojou strode over to Yuji, bending down to examine him closely. “Hmm, you really did merge with it?” He chuckled as he straightened up, clearly amused by the situation. “Is there anything wrong with your body?”

“Nope,” Yuji replied.

“Can you swap out with Sukuna?” You interjected.

“Sukuna?” Yuji’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, the curse you ingested,” You clarified.

“Oh, right! I think I can do that!” Yuji said, giving a thumbs up.

“Alright, give him about ten seconds, then take control back,” You instructed, offering a half-hearted smile to lighten the mood.

“But—” Yuji started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry; I’m the strongest,” Gojou smirked, his trademark bravado eliciting groans from both you and Megumi.

“Megumi, hold this!” Gojou tossed a bag into his hands.

“What’s this?” Megumi asked, perplexed.

“Kokufuku from Kikusuian! It’s Sendai’s specialty, and it’s absolutely delicious! I highly recommend the Zunda and Cream flavour!” Gojo exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

As Gojo continued to yap on about his trip and the delicious treats, [Name] couldn’t resist the urge to snag a piece of his Kokufuku. It was every bit as good as he’d claimed, the flavours dancing on your tongue.

“Hey! [Name]-chan, don’t eat my food! That’s really rude!” Gojo whined, eyes wide in faux betrayal.

“Hey, behind you!” Megumi shouted, you pulled him back by his collar just as a special grade cursed spirit lunged at Gojo. You instinctively tensed, knowing all too well how this would end—Gojo would emerge victorious once again because, as he liked to remind everyone, he was ‘the strongest.’

“Look, that kid is still alive after being thrown into a building,” You said sarcastically, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” Gojou replied, as if on cue.

As if in response to Gojo's words, Yuji’s tattoos faded once more, his body slumping as Megumi let out a sigh of relief. “Colour me impressed!” Gojou exclaimed, hovering above Yuji. “You can really control it!”

“Yeah, but he’s kind of annoying,” Yuji muttered, aggressively patting his own head, “I can hear his dumb voice in my head.”

“It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing,” Gojou remarked casually, poking Yuji’s forehead with two fingers, which caused him to immediately pass out.

“What did you do?” Megumi asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and curiosity.

“He knocked him out, Megumi-kun,” You replied, leaning back against the nearby railing, fatigue washing over you. “Can I go home, please? I’m tired.”

“Not just yet, [Name]-chan. If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel,” Gojou said, the seriousness of his tone cutting through the lighthearted banter.

“I have a question for you! What should we do with him?” Gojou turned to Megumi, his expression contemplative.

After a moment of thought, Megumi replied, “If he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand that Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want him to die.”

“Is that a personal opinion?” Gojou raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading slightly.

“Yes. It’s a personal opinion. Please do something about it,” Megumi insisted, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“Well, if it’s a request from a precious student, leave it to me! Now, someone carry Yuji. It seems my beloved future husband has fallen asleep!” Gojou declared with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Megumi turned to you, noticing that you had indeed succumbed to fatigue and drifted off, your head lolling to the side. You must have been really tired—or just really lazy.

“—Wait. Future husband? [Name]-san doesn’t even like you,” he deadpanned, disbelief etched across his face.

“Nuh-uh! He does! He let me kiss him before we came here,” Gojou retorted proudly, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Megumi’s frustration bubbled beneath the surface, and he couldn’t help but feel a strong urge to punch Gojou right then and there.

additional notes : if it has mistakes idc,, uhm yeah woohoo

word count : 1.7k

dont steal or repost my stuff that makes me go crazy!

[study-trash-child]

Nonbinary Characters in Polish Dubbings

It's a very short list, there's a LOT more they/them characters in media but for many, I couldn't find any dubbed scenes of, and I can't afford to purchase every streaming service ever just to watch a short scene with that character so-

Onto the topic

I so stupidly enjoy finding out translation differences between languages, and what better topic that Nonbinary characters translated to a language that genders everything.

In Polish, if you say you did something, you change it depending on the gender

I was reading - czytałem (male) or czytałam (female)

I feel like it is becoming more popular to use "o" as a gender-neutral way to say something (czytałom) but it's still faaaaaaar from being legally(?) recognized by many many other people and dictionaries.

But more on it later (kinda)

Some examples I found throught the years on how different shows handled the gendered words and characters in Polish translations.

RAINE WHISPERS - The owl house

One of probably most popular characters here, Raine Whispers.

It's Disney. I think it answers a lot already.

The show already had one queer couple, why make another, Raine throught the show is using male pronouns but was voiced by a woman.

On my own note, I really was not a fan on how they changed things in the dubbing including many of the names (Amity-Anita, Willow-Witka, Flapjack - Franek)

The Collector's official pronouns are He/They but the They was simply ignored. 'Easy as that'

ANGEL and MEREKID - Craig of the creek

Never properly watched it but when we (aka my sibling and me being a parasite) had HBO I tried to find epsidoes with them to see.

There are 2 nb/agender characters in that show as far as I'm aware (for some reason I though there were 3, so sorry if there are actually 3 of them)

For one (Angel) they just used he/him.

Other episode with nonbinary kid (I believe it was merekid) is completly gone from hbo in my country.

(overall HBO has a strong problem with many episodes of shows missing, like Adventure Time missing around 30 episdoes...)

STEVONNIE and SHEP - Steven Universe

They just refer to Stevonnie as two people (we, for version that includes at least one guy. Since there is difference between polish we for only girls - robiłyśmy - and we for either girls+guys or only guys - robiliśmy - ).

SHEP

Well, uh. I believe there is some kind of dubbing for the "future" series but I don't have prime and so on so I can't confirm it as of now...Sorry :/ UPDAGE: Managed to find an episode with Shep in polish dub. Shep is dubbed by a woman but the whole episode omits any kind of gendered words ("em" "am") by Shep and everyone else.

FRANKIE STEIN (G3) - Monster High

In the new cartoon and movie they are indeed referenced to as they. Even in polish dubbing Frankie uses "o" when doing something instead of just making them a girl (for both animated show and live action movie)

That's also a part of what I mentioned that the nonbinary way of speaking is becoming more 'common' in Poland

DOUBLE TROUBLE - She-Ra

I adore them, honestly

Well, quick note or so on, their polish pronouns is He/Him (since thier body is more male presenting)

Also their name in polish is "Kłopotowski" I had no idea till now and I wish it stayed that way, I laughed

BATTLE KITTY - Battle Kitty

I so, so, soooo love this show/game (the ony interactive options is picking where you want to go next. It changes nothing in the story). It's not so popular because it's an 'interactive game' which means that many people didn't give it a chance or just skipped it but I beg you to watch it. Me and friend had a blast honestly. It's a 'game' so your only chance to see it is to watch it on netflix.

The main character Kitty is Agender and uses they/them pronouns which carries over to polish dubbing!

REVERSED EXAMPLE

Huuuuh, that's honestly unusual.

So-

Nimona, many loved it, it's a giant allegory for transidentity/ and gender fluidity. I watched it with my mom (hence in polish) that's why I even know of the change

In english Nimona refers to herself as a she and others refer to her as such.

!In polish though! (I will use Nimona's english pronouns)

While everyone else refers to Nimona as she (including Balister), Nimona refers to herself as they ("o"). Honestly, unusal, it took me a few takes of Nimona talking to herself to even catch that, not to mention be sure that it's an "o". So yeah, polish made a character even more queer! Honestly unusual.

Hope you enjoyed my little, not really insightful post. It's just something that I'm really interesed in thus decided to make this (albeit) short post. There's a lot of overall different language changes, including how polish really tries not to curse in trasnlation (amazing example would be deadpool 2) or other changes that are really random (spiderverse, the amazing digital circus).

Hey, maybe it will spark some interest in you too. Make check langauge differences as well, have fun! Or suffer. Probably the later one.

If you (somehow) have something you'd like me to check out translation vise, let me know and I'll try to do just that

Cheers!

Edit: Small add on, regarding the analisys.

You could probably figure it out yourself but it seema like big studios like Disney will be the ones pushing for characters to be of she/he pronouns. While smaller studios will have a better chance of character still being referenced to as they/them in other languages.

[idyllic-affections]

Hello! I saw your works of what Kaveh and Cyno would be like as parents... That leaves me thinking of Al-haitham as a father. Would him take his child to his grandmother? Would he read them advanced physics books? (⁠´⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠ω⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠｀⁠)

scholarly lineage.

summary. what would alhaitham be like as a father?

trigger & content warnings. brief hypothetical mentions of assault in general, can be interpreted as s/a, but is not explicitly stated to be that way. sensory overload mentions. spoilers for alhaitham's character stories.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. dad!alhaitham & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. in this fic, alhaitham and the reader are both written as neurodivergent in some way; interpret it however you please!

author's thoughts. OUGDHSJGSJSG wait this is so cute. dad alhaitham..... it is such a cool thought, because with alhaitham, i don't think there's any obvious or "correct" way to write him as a dad. he could be overprotective. he could be very casual, the "cool dad" if you will. also i know i haven't been posting as much recently! it's literally only because i've been hyperfixating on hsr... whoops. /lh

alhaitham as a father is a very interesting concept to me. now, believe it or not, i feel like he is a less strict father than cyno. he's actually relatively laid-back.

alhaitham is the kind of guy who raises his child to be smart. he raises them to play the game, not to be played by it, you know? therefore, he believes in his child's judgement and their ability to make wise decisions. he feels no need to be protective over them.

(however... that does not mean someone could do something harmful to them and get away with it. if anyone does anything to hurt them? abuses them? verbally, physically, or worse? good lord, he does not take well to that. he is a man with power, and by the gods, he'll use it if he has to in their defense.)

if his child has sensory issues, alhaitham is very attentive to those things and will get them any and all needed accommodations. if they struggle with auditory sensory issues where they get easily overwhelmed? they'll have ear pieces that match his. <3

when people point it out, depending on who they are, they will get one of two responses; either him very blatantly admitting that yes, their headset matches his, or him getting a little embarrassed and claiming it was all he had on hand at the moment. liar. /lh

it's kaveh that gets the latter response, of course.

if they ever happen to get annoyed with their father in their moments of overwhelm, he doesn't take it personally at all. sensory overload will do that to a person. he gets it, tbh.

i think alhaitham would definitely want his kid to attend the akademiya. ideally, haravatat, but he supposes he'd be okay if they enrolled in a different darshan. he'll recover...

UNLESS they enroll in kshahrewar. alhaitham would NEVER recover from a betrayal of that magnitude!! however, his grandmother herself was from kshahrewar, so... well. he'd get over it, he guesses. he'd still prefer if they enrolled in haravatat.

whatever darshan they enroll in honestly doesn't matter, though, because if anyone gives them trouble for any reason? all alhaitham has to do is give the problematic person a single look and suddenly the issue is resolved! apparently people think he's scary. not that he minds. he likes it that way; it keeps trouble away from both him and his child.

of course, he won't intervene unless they specifically seek out his help, because he knows his kid can handle themselves. still, he pulls a few strings behind the scenes every now and then. he doesn't really want to see his kid struggle. he knows they're intelligent, and he also knows he doesn't have to worry about them not wanting to work for themselves. therefore, he sees no reason to let them struggle needlessly.

he'd also understand if they weren't too big a fan of being surrounded by so many people. he isn't fond of it, either, so he'd let them stay in his office whenever needed. he'll even invite them to do their classwork in there rather than anywhere else in the akademiya, simply so that they don't have to be around a bunch of random people they couldn't possibly be less interested in.

alhaitham definitely read his kid very difficult books when they were little, which would totally lead to them being ahead of their peers. that really wouldn't be unexpected, i think. they probably enrolled in the akademiya a little early.

you know that "i know you don't know any astronomical pretentious voluminous colossal words" audio? yeah, that was alhaitham's kid when they were small.

also, yes, alhaitham would absolutely take them to his grandmother!! i think she would see their father in them, just like how she saw alhaitham's parents in him. of course, this is before her death.

i think alhaitham would ultimately be content that his child got to meet the woman who raised him.

to think that she saw himself in them...

it brings him an odd sense of pride and comfort.

and as a little treat:

kaveh is kind of like another dad (or like a wine uncle LMAO) for them. do what you will with this information.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[hsvh-hp]

2024 Wrapped!

I've seen these posts floating around the site, and they look so fun!

2024 was a big year for me, for fandom. I made so many new incredible friends on here and Discord, got more involved in events, and participated in a few fests. I also finished the longfic I'd started in September 2023, which I honestly still can't believe is finally going live in less than 48 hours.

My best estimate of how many words I wrote this year (I cut a long in editing, so this number will actually be higher) is somewhere around 370,000.

This post got extremely long, so I've put the majority of it under the cut. I don't write very often (on Tumblr, anyway) about my process, or consistently promote my work. So, hopefully y'all can forgive me for indulging this one time at the end of the year.

In order that I wrote them:

🎉 Spiral Dynamics (Draco/Harry; 21.1k words)

This one was for the Fellytone game on the Drarry Discord server! Based on this stunning art by @appleslightning, there's basically some Friends to Lovers hijinks with Draco and Harry, as Draco's probation officer retires 7 years into Draco's 10 year term, and Harry volunteers to take the spot 'as a favour' without having consulted Draco first. Drama Draco's dramatics ensue. The fic also inspired this by @maesterchill, and I am grinning and kicking my feet all over again looking at it. THESE TWO, I love them, your honour.

✨ The 'Two for the Triwizard' Trilogy (Draco/Harry; 3 fics totalling 9.3k words)

A Triwizard Tournament AU, but make it Drarry. This small series was also born on the Drarry Discord in a fun game of 'haha what if'.

In Fraternizing With the Enemy, Harry sees that Draco has come to the Yule Ball with a boy from Durmstrang (Volkov? Vikhrov?) and totally only chases his date off because said date is from a rival school. Harry and Draco end up dancing and chatting, and Harry ends his night feeling like a complete goner ensnared by Draco.

The Fourth Hostage skips to the Second Task, where Draco has replaced Ron as Harry's hostage at the bottom of the lake. Under weight afterward of Harry trying to figure out What's Going On between himself and Draco, Draco takes some initiative of his own to remind/inform Harry that he couldn't have been chosen as a hostage for the Task if he didn't agree to it. They get together. 🥹

Little Hangleton and Beyond is another skip. I wanted a happy ending not just for Draco and Harry, but Sirius and the Malfoys as well. I'll expand on this later when I reflect on my favourite themes and character propaganda, but the premise for this one is Lucius Malfoy changes the course of the graveyard scene following the Third Task. Draco's been writing home about his new boyfriend, and Lucius just...can't let anything happen to Harry, lol. So, Voldemort is immediately cast back into Undeath, Wormtail is so shocked that he's easily apprehended, Sirius' name is cleared, Harry goes to live with him, blah blah, Happily Ever After.

🎉 Full Indulgence (Tonks/Fleur/Bill; 14.7k words)

This was written for @hptransfest! The prompt was basically exploring Tonks' Metamorphmagus abilities during sex, and I'd had an idea rattling around for some Tonks/Fleur that I was very excited to finally have a chance to write. The premise was that in Half-Blood Prince, Tonks wasn't coming to the Burrow in the summer to get sympathy from Molly about her feelings for Remus. She was there to ogle Fleur, and then it turns out Fleur wants her, and Bill's cool with it, and Bill gets involved, etc. It was a great excuse to write 15k of very indulgent smut.

The thing I was most proud about in this fic was that (despite me using she/her pronouns in the paragraph above) I wrote 15k of 3rd person POV smut and didn't use one single personal pronoun for Tonks. It was a challenge, but so fun and validating for a character who identified as having no gender at all.

✨ Something About Malfoy (Draco/Harry; 3.2k words)

This fic spawned as a short and sweet AU from Draco Malfoy and the Descent of the Feathered Serpent (TL;DR, the longfic I'm just about to start posting, which is Order of the Phoenix from Draco's POV).

Some backstory: when I was rereading Spinners of Fate to start preparing for the sequel fic, I was hit with the realization about Draco that, my god, this kid is such an egg waiting to crack lmao. Folks who follow the Canon in Draconis Major series will see the Trans Draco Malfoy tag on 5th year's fic. I've read multiple metas here on tumblr about how Draco (among others) are 'fem-coded' in HP, and so it makes sense to me that Draco be some shade of genderqueer along with being gay lol. He's a mean girl, and a Mean Girl™. But also still a boy.

He ended up bigender in my head, keeping his name and pronouns while just sometimes Switching Things Up externally as he pleases. This ended up a big deal in Feathered Serpent, since Umbridge takes cue from Dumbledore's insistence that BCJ snuck into Hogwarts using Polyjuice Potion that magically changing a person's appearance ought to be banned (but of course, as it truly goes with her, the control is the real point).

ANYWAY, in this fic, I pretended for 3200 words that Voldemort never came back, therefore Umbridge never taught at Hogwarts, therefore Draco could come out as trans/bigender/genderqueer exactly when he felt like it, which coincided with the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. Poor Harry, he was not prepared for that.

🎉 Twilight Eternal (Draco/Harry; 23.9k words)

This was written for @hd-tarot, and was another fic that I had an idea rattling around for, looking for an excuse to write lol. Those who've been following me for a long time and have the sharpest of memories might remember this post from a year ago. There was an ask game regarding names of WIPs, and @omgkatsudonplease asked me about this one. I finally got to write it!!!

It's also very interesting to me to reread that ask and see how differently the fic wound up. I hadn't conceived yet that Hermione was involved, or that she and Draco were Unspeakables. I also thought it would be a Getting Together fic with Draco and Harry, but ended up with them already established in a relationship. I'm very happy with it, even if it (comparatively) didn't get much love.

🎉 WARNING: May Contain Pollen (Draco/Harry; 2.9k words)

Honestly, this is basically a crackfic lol. It started as a joke: what if there was sex pollen, but either Draco or Harry turns out to be allergic to it? And uh, yeah! That's the plot!

🚧 Beyond the Scuttling Void (Harry & Sirius, eventual Draco/Harry; 54.6k words and ongoing)

A crossover fic, using the Veil in the Department of Mysteries as means for Sirius, Harry, and Draco to isekai into another world! Surely this has never been done before! (heavy /s lmao)

2024 has been a year of getting back to fandom roots for me. One of the things I wanted to unlearn was the 'I must complete my fics before I begin posting them' mentality. This fic, since the crossover material (Skyrim) is an open world RPG, basically translates to Harry, Draco, and Sirius being able to do whatever they want. Well, Sirius ended up the prophesied Hero from the game lol. But since Harry follows Sirius through the Veil after a ten year long timejump (canon-based space/time shenanigans in Elder Scrolls/Skryim lore) the Main Quest™ is already dealt with, and Sirius is just a happily-married hero with a house he built himself, tons of friends, and two sons who he took in as orphans. Harry has to reckon a lot with feeling like a bag of dicks for asking Sirius to help him get home once they're reunited.

It's been really fun writing this fic as Harry learns how to navigate a world where magic is different, and which is basically medieval Scandinavia with dragons, elves, vampires, a pantheon of trickster gods, and spiders the size of horses lol. The lore runs deep, and Harry keenly investigates it for means to reverse his having been dumped here through the Veil. As far as I've posted, Draco hasn't shown up yet. Harry doesn't even know he's there, and likewise: Draco has no idea Harry and Sirius are there. I know where Draco is, and look forward to the three of them rolling up together like the pointing Spiderman meme. What I can say about Draco at the current point of posting is that at least now....he is safe, haha. He had to grow up very quickly all of a sudden to have made that happen for himself. He's Seen Some Shit.

So what were the most common themes in my work this year?

Established Draco/Harry. As seen in: Little Hangleton and Beyond, Twilight Eternal, and WARNING: May Contain Pollen.

I feel that for me, shifting from more Getting Together fics to Established Draco/Harry fics is a natural progression as I write more Drarry fics. Mutual pining, Draco and Harry pursuing each other, and proving themselves to each other are fun, but so is skipping all of that and letting them focus on whatever's threatening their happiness in the fic lol. Or, like Little Hangleton and Beyond, just letting them have their happiness while the rest of the plot ties up.

2. Sirius & Harry, and Harry living with Sirius. As seen in: Little Hangleton and Beyond, Something About Malfoy, and Beyond the Scuttling Void.

I really, really wish that Sirius and Harry had gotten the godfather-godson happy ending they deserved in canon. This is one of the greatest tragedies of the Harry Potter series to me (does that mean I would've trusted JKR to write it any other way? Ummm no lol). So, where possible, I set them up in a post-Goblet of Fire AU to have a happy future to look forward to.

As for Beyond the Scuttling Void, let's just say it's my post-Order of the Phoenix coping mechanism. Sirius isn't dead! He's just gone to be a hero and kill the big bad dragon. He's married and everything! He's fine, guys. Don't worry about it.

3. Lucius being a good dad for Draco. As seen in: Spiral Dynamics, the Two for the Triwizard trilogy, Something About Malfoy, and Twilight Eternal.

OKAY, this is my self-confessed delusion, my fight against the tide, and my drowned out truth lol. I love Lucius Malfoy. I hate when he's abusive to Draco, and I've just gotten numb to the prospect of him being killed off, in Azkaban, or...whatever...in post-war Drarry fic. I love when Lucius remains a hurdle to Harry because Draco, uh, kind of really loves and admires his dad.

There was a tumblr post about power fantasies that really spoke to me. Essentially, for some people killing/beating up the bad guy is the power fantasy. For some, love changing them. For some, the bad guy getting to run wild to their full potential. For me, Lucius is #2. I love writing him as a good dad, or at least trying his best through the war years, and having to reckon/own up with his failures in the end if he wants to restore full trust from Draco. I love when he learns something about Draco and will rewrite his entire worldview to suit his beloved only child (Draco & Narcissa based morality, rather than pureblood supremacy morality - although these certainly overlap a lot of the time). And, honestly? I think I love it (and him) so much because he's so underappreciated in Drarry fandom and fic. I have to feed myself on this one, guys.

So...this was 2024 for me! And I didn't even wax lyrically about the 291,000 word behemoth that is Descent of the Feathered Serpent lol. It was a very busy year for me, and fandom (especially all the new friends/acquaintances I made) helped me through some trying RL stuff. If you've read this far, THANK YOU FOR MAKING 2024 GOOD AND FUN!! I will maybe see you in a few days when I start regularly posting again. ❤️

[rowanwritestoomuch]

A Lesson on ConCrit -- how to give & recieve

Criticism is often something we all abhor, but in our artwork of writing, we need to understand how to recieve information about editting and how to give it, because we will not succeed without it.

There is no world in which writing is not a collaborative effort-- unless you never share it, in which case, this post is not for you. Keep on doing what you're doing you funky fresh individual. But for the rest of us with a praise kink, this is an ineffeible truth.

So how do we give *constructive* criticism in writing?

We remain focused on improvement.

Never give criticism to harm, never with malicious intent, never to degrade or belittle. Never. Do. This. If you did not like a work but it has skillful merit, it uses grammar properly, it has structure and themeology, it is OKAY to simply accept 'I did not like this' and move on. But if you have something useful to say, something productive for the writer, something genuinely meant in kindness and to improve, it is important to always keep in mind the 'when this, then that' method.

For example; "When [X character] confessed to his lover, it was the cutest thing I've ever seen, but then [Y character] had very little reaction, and it took me out of the scenes where their greater romance was developed. I would suggest when [Y character] is confronted with this information, perhaps we should include some more emotional beats and actions, like describing their expressions or what they think, to make sure the reader stays engaged. Thank you for posting this, I'm enjoying it!" In this bit of criticism, we have kept a constructive approach in mind. We have addressed that 'when this' happened, it made us feel good, but when we found something we thought needed improvement, 'then that' was discussed. We engaged with the artist in a way that did not degrade them but also did not demand that they take our advice, by framing our suggestions in a way that remembers inherent storytelling aspects, like emotions and actions, and we gave positive but not specific suggestions on how to improve those actions, without injecting our own bias into the artist's work.

This is the meat of constructive criticism. We do not want to put each other down. We do not want to taint another's art with our own voice. We want to focus on improvement and respect someone's vulnerability in sharing their work.

Another example; "I noticed that in this scene, I got really lost when [X & Y] were talking because you used a lot of pronouns and not very many proper nouns. In Chapter 3, you had a scene with [X, Y, Z & Q] and it was really engaging for me, I didn't mind the use of proper nouns because I was able to easily keep track of who was talking when. I think it would help both of us follow along better when the characters' names are used more. Really great work, I'm loving the banter between the two." In this example, we point out an error in the execution of the work, a literary thing such as forgotten proper nouns that pull the reader from the scene. In order to encourage the writer, we made sure to include an example of when they did well to remind them how they did well and encouraged them to improve this scene in the same manner as the previously well executed one. We remembered to let them know that we did enjoy the scene, we just got a little lost, and we collaborated with them on how it would help us, the reader, and them, the writer, follow along better. This same kind of concrit can be used for any literary skill mistake, or instead you could simply say "Would you like some help editting your work?" and collaborate with the artist even further. Grammar errors, spelling mistakes, structure issues, use of words and nouns, you can help with those things without placing any blame or anxiety on the writer, and many would love to have several hands edit their work before they do their final drafting. It is important to remember always that our engagement with an artist is a sensitive subject, and we will not gain more art from this person (content, if you will) if we continuosly demand, degrade, disgrace and disregard the feelings of the creators. Respect has to be given and recieved like a gift, and the gift in our metaphor is writing.

Things that you should not comment on; characters you just didn't like--- you can just not like something, the artist doesn't have to change it for you to enjoy, move on. Plot directions or twists that just weren't your flavor--- not every piece has to fit into your ideal of a trope. Only speak on these things when the plot is completely contrived or needs re-structuring to really hit the point it's trying to make. If you just didn't like where the story went, well, it's not for you. It doesn't mean its bad. Understand how to have a discerning eye for the difference between execution and expression. Stylistic choices that just don't hit with you, like purposefully lowercased words, the changing or reformatting of words into new ones, different dialogue types and tags--- these are things the author did on purpose. You do not tell a painter you did not like the use of orange in their sunflower painting, you just move on. That was a choice, not a mistake or a lesson that needs to be learned, and not everyone has to use words the way you do. Focus on being helpful, not being biased. Art is subjective and exists both in the eyes of the artist and the viewer, it is not supposed to be monotypical. To give criticism, one must also be able to recieve it.

It can be hard for someone to comment on our work with something that suggests we made a mis-step. We must always consider what it is that we have to glean from this new information when it strikes us anxious, instead of becoming mired in our own ego. If a reader has something to say about the improvement of your work, it is not a law, they will not abandon you if you do not heed them, and if they do, another one will most likely enjoy the place you decided to remain. Criticism is a very 'take it or leave it or do something with it'. You can hear the reader out when they say that the interactions between characters fell flat for them, but if it was your intention to display the character as apathetic, uninterested, uninvested, distracted or depressed, maybe then the reader just did not pick up what you were putting down. You could change your work because of this, or you could leave it the same and the next reader, or the many silent readers aside, will most likely feel differently. When someone has a suggestion on the changing of grammar, consider--- is it hard to read? I should probably change this, I'm *glad* they pointed it out. We sometimes write with blinders on, it is not an insult for someone to turn our head and make us look in another direction. It is not an insult for someone to suggest we need improvement, especially when they give examples as to how to help. It is not an insult to share our work and accept that not everyone will like it, and that we can take their advice both with grace and with self-respect. Listen to your readers, listen to your heart, and collaborate with the two.

And always, always remember, write because it hurts if you don't.

[nexlikestoyap101]

Happy Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️...check out Splatoon!!🦑🐙

Splatoon is so diverse when it comes to sexuality and gender. Don't believe me? Here's a list:

Pearl and Marina, also known as Off the Hook - the most unsubtle non-confirmed lesbian couple (but it's pretty much canon by now). Check out this post full of evidence!

Acht - the series' first major confirmed nonbinary character, using they/them pronouns, correcting mistranslations from both official sources and fan translations. (Also commonly headcanoned as aroace or other variations, based on their reactions to romantic scenes between Off the Hook)

Orion (the green one) - nonbinary character from the supporting cast, confirmed by this dialogue from their friend. (Only video I could find of the dialogue in quesiton)

The band Diss-Pair - commonly headcanoned as a gay couple based on the fact that they appear in the Valentine's Day artwork for 2019 (by extension, the giant group in the front can be a polycule, if you really want them to be)

Cipher...

And

6. Smollusk - ^ both characters who use it/its pronouns. Listed on their individual wiki pages.

7. Finn - a presumed transgender female fish if we think about real life betta fish biology.

8. Shiver - initially speculated to be nonbinary, based on their pronouns in the Japanese version. Later confirmed to be female in English.

Some of these are more canon than others, but let's just have fun regardless, yeah? And celebrate what we do have!

Some more things I can think of:

Craig Cuttlefish and DJ Octavio - popularly headcanoned as the 'textbook definition of old men yaoi lovers to enemies 🎵'

Agent 24 - popular ship between Agent 3 and Agent 8 (3x8=24, math puns!), due to promotional art + 2020's Valentines Day Artwork. (The characters often change in gender in appearence in promotional artwork)

Multiple ships between the games large cast of female characters

Removal of gendered hair/clothing options in Splatoon 3.

Various same-sex ships from the spin-off manga, Coroika.

Multiple of the above pairings listed are Inkling/Octoling ships (Squid/Octopus) - a reoccuring theme in the game is the opression of Octolings, mirroring real world issues of discrimination and 'forbidden love.'

Jumping off from that middle point, the game is female-centric (with lots of female characters + the default for the playable character being female-presenting), as the developers discuss in a 2015 Famitsu interview:

Splatoon has always been a franchise where hopefully people can see themselves represented in game, particularly young girls. As the franchise develops, more and more diverse characters are added for this exact purpose.

This is an amazing series where hopefully all sorts of people can feel represented in one way or another!

Sorry if I got any details about any of the characters/events wrong - I'm going off of my memory and observations about the fandom, mostly. I just really wanted to share these facts with everyone! You're welcome to share your own intrepratations and facts in the reblogs too! :) Let me know if I missed anything!

Happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🦑🐙

[demonir]

Welcome to Adrian’s good omens thoughts while he’s half asleep again, on todays episode I want to talk about how important the gender expression in the show is to me

Don’t mind the typos I’m lying down without my glasses

I really appreciate how subtle they are about characters genders and stuff, characters with commonly male names being played by actresses and they still use stuff like “sir” or “lord” even if they also get referred to as they/them. They don’t make an intense effort to make them look incredibly androgynous either which like- idk it’s nice.

Knowing neither angels or demons have a defined gender also feels so so so nice because it comes paired with the fact they still choose to present in specific ways and use specific pronouns because newsflash bozo someone can be nonbinary or agender and still present masc as fuck or fem as fuck and use either he/him or she/her and if they wake up 2 weeks from now and change that they are still valid.

Which takes me to my second favorite point, Crowley’s change in gender presentation. I know we all know or at the very least agree he’s genderfluid but like I want to highlight the way he does it because it means so much to me. He has obviously chosen to be masc presenting through most of history (that we’ve seen, there could still be periods of time we haven’t seen where she’s been fem) and idk abt you but I was a tumblr teen years ago learning a very skewed version of gender identity and expression where if you wanted to be genderfluid you had to look very attractive as both genders and also PASS as both genders convincingly (as well as being perfectly androgynous when being neither, this also applied to nonbinary people), as well as change it like every 2 days or so and have no preference? That’s the way people would make it seem to me, that’s the way people would portray their genderfluid characters in fandom spaces and that’s the way my teenage mind came to absorb it.

Now, it’s 2024 and I’m sure all of us with common sense know this is bogus but still seeing Crowley just sorta… brightened my everything? Knowing nanny Crowley wasn’t just for the joke, knowing that during certain scenes she was indeed being fem… but the most important part to me is that no matter what he was still HIM, they could have gone the easy route and have an actress play fem Crowley and be like “oh well she’s a demon she can shapeshift whenever ooooo” like so many people do with their ocs (I was one at one point) but it is still obviously him, it is still David Tennant playing Crowley and nobody else and when she’s fem she’s still got the same features the same everything and that’s somehow just… so freeing to see? It’s realistic, it’s grounding. You can be fem and still have overly masculine features, you can be fem and still have facial hair, you can be masc and still wear makeup, you can be masc and not hide your chest.

Now I wish this was all just… more obvious to everyone, I know some of this stuff because I saw posts, I saw people talking about it… but not everyone is gonna go through a 3 hour post scavenger hunt for extra lore like I do and these things are simply not addressed in the show. There IS a certain freeing feeling to the gender stuff not being addressed, it simply happens, it passes by and you might not even notice, but also comes with the double edged sword of people simply thinking SOME of the characters have funny genders but the others don’t.

Sorry I’m distracted rn bc I can hear a fucking bohemian rhapsody cover coming from my moms tv the timing of this is fucking wild, anyways I’m gonna try to get my thoughts back on track

So yeah, to some people like for example my aforementioned mother, the nanny Crowley thing was merely a joke and nothing else, not a brief moment of gender expression but just a perhaps even nasty joke played at the expense of other people. To her every other Crowley before and after that has been strictly cis male and mlm despite the fact I did in fact explain to her that he’s not, same applies to Aziraphale and perhaps even harder because we only ever see him presenting masculine through the entirety of it and trying to explain otherwise to the woman that thinks she can use she/he on me because I’m bisexual will not work (and she refuses to use he/him on me anyways mind you, or my chosen name. Says it’s too complicated, but I know for a fact that if one of the characters had changed their name mid show she would switch to the new name instantly…..yknow… just casual transphobia for me only)

I would like just…a passing comment or a scene that lets everyone know the nuance yknow? Finally something that cannot be disputed by everyone, and you might say “well but Crowley says he’s neither when he gets called a good lad” and to that I say yes but people still dispute the meaning behind it, my mom certainly would. And again you might want to shake the nanny scene in front of me and again I’ll remind you of people thinking it was just a joke, a disguise, a singular haha funny. You might want to gesture towards other scenes or moments or passing phrases but the thing is they will or have already been debated on because people will try to deny it no matter fucking what and it’s FRUSTRATING, so perhaps it’s just me being petty or wanting to give them a good ol fuck you but I’d like it if either Crowley or Aziraphale or both just looked at the camera head on and went “we are not men, also Crowley is genderfluid” no ifs no butts no second meaning just straight to your face, a giant “shut the fuck up” to annoying people.

Now I’m not gonna die if this doesn’t happen, I’m fine with that… it just sorta feels depressing seeing someone in the wild genuinely saying shit like “why are you using she/her for Crowley? He’s a man” my brother in Christ I am about to hit you with the mallet of knowledge and you won’t be able to look at that demon the same way ever again.

The gender expression in good omens matters so much to me as someone who struggles with her own and Crowley and Beelzebub matter so much to me as a little afab genderfluid/nonbinary (I’m not sure yet) motherfucker, I need to go bite some fuckinf ccomcrete right now man, accidental typo but I’m keeping it.

[coffbeanie]

Posting Celestoro’s full design just cause some bits were cut off along with some info on my bby <3

-Baraan’s hairpin is on the back of Ceri’s head, and the pin is used to keep Celestoro’s bun up!

-She also gives her holders two daggers.

-They’re meant to be pretty blunt so they’re melee defense weapons -think of them like Wonder Woman’s bracelets-they can deflect shots/beams, or just as mini shields for other melee weapons

-Defensively you can also just bonk people with them

-I also like the idea of the two daggers being able to connect, so it can turn into a double edged spear thing.

-Also have an idea that they can connect into nunchucks cause it sounds cool

-Design wise they fit is meant to be kinda ballet-esque

-That’s kinda my reasoning for the ribbons, along with the fact thats it a more fem thing

-I also tried to include the taurus symbol in their design, but it was kinda difficult

-I also like the idea of their skirt being able to detatch, and maybe when it does it can change colors so it can turn into a matador like cape

-Idk if other miraculous holders can kinda do whatever with their kwami then Celestoro can do whatever they want too

-As for their debut episode (under the cut)

-Don’t ask me about it

-If i gotta be honest idk how my fellas get their miraculous

-Does ladybug give it to them? Does the guardian of this miracle box give it to them? I’m not sure yet i’m mainly just making these guys to do character design plus ship them with characters

-I have a few ideas for who the villain in their debut episode could be

-In their original debut episode we would see their dance instructor and their students, and maybe one of them could be akumatized

-Either that, or maybe we could do a Silencer 2 and have Celestoro make their debut then

-I’m leaning for this cause if you could’t tell, I ship them with Luka and I like it when couples have to face each other, one as an akuma and one as a hero

-But besides that I’m also leaning towards Luka helping Ceri realize they’re genderfluid-i didn’t mention this but a part of Ceri being akumatized into Stopwatch is that Ceri kind of knows they dont identify with the gender they were born as

-That’s why they start with they/them pronouns-they know they identify as something else, but they didn’t put “contemplate gender” in their schedule so they have no real time for reflection

-As it’s a lot more noticeable for them when they were overcome with the stress that led to Stopwatch

-And after the events of Stopwatch, while not maybe shown but with Celestoro’s debut, it’s obvious that Luka and Ceri have been hanging out a lot, and while Ceri hasn’t told Luka anything, Luka kinda knows

-During the episode if Silencer was the akuma, we’d see Luka and Ceri talking, Ceri is being open to him about their struggles with their identity, and Luka would present the idea that maybe they’re genderfluid, but Ceri isn’t quite accepting of that at first

-Sticking with this, I’d like for Luka’s akumatization to reflect Ceri’s issues somewhat when they were akumatized (and also an issue i have with his character)

-Cause i get the ha ha funny of that one scene where Luka is just giving out free therapy sessions to everyone

-But why is this child giving therapy to adults that cannot be healthy

-So Luka feels a bit of weight cause he just knows everyone’s issues and feels so pressured to help and worries that he can’t, which leads to him being akumatized into Silencer again cause he needs everyone to shut up for a minute

-Ceri is chosen to get Baraan and become Celestoro because their ability will literally allow them to get close enough without being silenced, but because their whole thing being Loyalty is meant to convey to Luka that Ceri will always be there for him and Luka can always speak to them-they’ll listen, but Ceri can’t do that if they can’t hear Luka’s voice

-Guys its full circle trust

-Gotta be straight honest i’m just yapping and throwing ideas out

-So yeah that’s all i got

-Pls lemme know if u have any questions or even any ideas to help me out

[agerefandom]

A Good Omens S2 Review

Hello everyone! I lied and watched the new season of Good Omens and because I have thoughts on it, I thought I'd write a little review. This is from the perspective of someone who was a book fan for over a decade before the show came out, so it is quite critical of the show, so please keep that in mind! I expect that it's much more enjoyable for folks who didn't spend so long invested in a different version of the characters.

Short/Spoiler-Free: Season two was a fun time with excellent new characters, but the finale sets them up for a disastrous third season, and making Crowley and Aziraphale the main characters really does dilute the original message of the novel.

The rest of the review contains spoilers and is over 1,300 words because I was an English major in Uni. Carry on for those curious!

Let’s start off with the things that I liked about the show!

1.The actors for Crowley and Aziraphale are continuing to kill it with their performances: the physicality they bring to their characters is a delight, their timing in the comedy sections is impeccable, and I enjoy watching them do their thing.

2. Gabriel as a comedy relief character was amazing for me. I usually don’t enjoy comedy (and didn’t enjoy a single joke in the flashback scenes, but that’s entirely my fault probably for not liking humorous TV) but Gabriel really did tickle me.

3. Loved the terrifying Jane Austen ball where Aziraphale just messed around with everyone’s brains! Very chilling show of angelic power, potentially wasn’t played as horrific as it could have been, but still very nice! I like when Aziraphale is scary.

4. Muriel is my child and I love them with my entire heart. They were a delight of a character. Really brought new life to the show, and a new person to learn the message of the book (humanity as divinity). (Although the second season didn't really... carry that lesson for Muriel or for anyone else, so never mind that.)

5. The new human characters were also enjoyable and very sweet. Their dynamic was believable and real and that was good to see.

6. The writers really did just decide to make every side character gay and half of them use they/them pronouns. I have mixed opinions on it, but ultimately I did think it was a lovely little detail, especially with the angels/demons who are more separate from human genders.

Okay, now let’s get into the rest of things.

I think my overall conclusion from this season is that Crowley and Aziraphale were not, at all, made to be main characters. Even in the first season, I felt that they overemphasized them. In the book, the focus is split between them and the larger plot, with lots of little side vignettes to make sure the reader is kept grounded on Earth, with the humans, who are the emotional centre of the book. Aziraphale and Crowley play as foils to human nature in Adam and they are not the main characters, though they are, of course, the main marketing force.

Making them the main characters, especially in Season Two, meant dropping a lot of their character progress and giving them a lot more angst than they had in the novel. Both of them feel very young, where in the book they definitely seem more like they’ve been around for several millennia. I also feel that they aren’t totally allowed to be as fucked up as they were in the book? (Maybe that’s just a personal vendetta: I am furious that Season One took out the scene where Aziraphale kills his magician’s dove out of carelessness.)

Okay, two small things and then I’ll get to the finale.

First of all, interesting to get confirmation that Crowley was in the war on Heaven and actually took up arms? Feels contradictory to his ‘demon who sauntered vaguely downward’ description and also odd to his character that he would have fought directly against Heaven but I imagine that’s building to some other twist involving Crowley’s Fall in Season Three, so I’ll let it go for now. (I still think it makes show!Crowley very different from book!Crowley though)

Gabriel and Beelzebub were a very nice thing, although underdeveloped. It made me sad to see that they, as newly appointed side characters, can have a simple relationship, while Aziraphale and Crowley are now main characters and therefore need a more tumultuous and dynamic relationship that they didn’t have in the book, where they were actually relatively solid.

Now let’s go for finale time.

Ultimately, I absolutely hated two key things about the finale.

First of all, the kiss. I’m not sure if it was a direct response to the harassment about S1 being queerbaiting or if it was always the plan to have an explicitly physical relationship between the two, but I’m so mad about it either way. It just accepts the narrative that a physical relationship is the only stable one (ie. if Aziraphale had kissed Crowley back, it would have fixed everything and they could have been together). I also don’t really want my Good Omens show to be a religiously charged commentary on queer love, which it immediately became, especially with Aziraphale’s immediate response being “I forgive you,” which highlighted everything I didn’t want Good Omens to become.

Framing the kiss immediately as a sin is such a bad move, I don’t know what the writers were thinking??? Emphasizing that Aziraphale is an angel and however much he can want Crowley by his side, he can’t kiss him because he’s an angel and kissing is… something that needs to be forgiven?

However the line was supposed to be read, it really seemed like a religious condemnation and it hurt more than I care to admit. Aziraphale in the books is so comfortable with his perceived queerness, and his recoiling from it here with Crowley at the point where it becomes explicit… I didn’t care for it.

And secondly, the promotion.

That was so stupid on so many levels. My partner said that it wasn’t in character, since Aziraphale is not an ambitious angel and seems like someone who would turn tail and run from a promotion. I can’t say I remember his relationship with ambition in the books, but I respect and trust my partner’s opinion on that.

More importantly to me, it entirely muddies the message of the story and it reflects very darkly on what season three will involve.

Good Omens was never about ‘fixing’ Heaven or Hell. It was about honouring humanity as the truly divine mix of both, about not allowing them to end the Earth, and about finding a small place for yourself to live: a bookshop, a garden, a cottage, a town.

Aziraphale choosing to go and reform Heaven totally turns that on its head: now there is no ending for the show without either abandoning or fixing Heaven, and how is that going to work?? You can’t turn angels into an anarchy because it’s very clear they have no real natural inclination to ‘goodness’ but neither can you truly save Heaven, because what are you going to do? Declare that there’s no more cancer for young children? No more evil in the world? God has designed the world with evil in it, and there’s no rewriting that. Suddenly Good Omens has to grapple with what was once ineffable and almost unimportant to the lives of the characters: the true purpose of Heaven and Hell.

I have absolutely no faith in almost any TV show to tackle that question (The Good Place gets a minor pass), and no interest in watching the story be told through Aziraphale and Crowley, who have always been more grounded characters in a world of too much divine bureaucracy.

On the note of divine bureaucracy, I felt like it was lacking from the flashback scenes. While I enjoyed them overall and really appreciated some of my favourite book moments finally being adapted on-screen, they didn’t really address the paperwork they were covering for each other: seemed more like the two of them running around having almost random adventures, whereas in the novel they were often doing each other’s temptations and salvations in a much more ‘oh, check that off the list and write a progress report to the supervisor’ kind of way.

Again, this is because Aziraphale and Crowley have been made into Main Characters and their place as subordinates is now unimportant. They are making Big Decisions and causing changes in the world, and I truly don’t believe that’s what Aziraphale and Crowley were made to be. They were just an angel and a demon who tried to solve the apocalypse and didn’t end up doing anything because the anti-christ was a little too human for the whole plan to work in the first place.

And I miss them.

[eponastory]

Writing Characters without Names!

Okay, Buckle up here because this subject can get a little in the controversial territory.

1: Starting a book with a Nameless Character.

There are several instances I can think of where the main character is introduced. However, we don't even know their name. We get a wonderful perspective of this character on their own in some village or forest (perhaps even in a modern setting), and we are seeing everything through his/her/their eyes. This can be a wonderful way to start a story if you intend to do a name drop at some point during your first chapter. Personally, I like getting at least halfway or close to the end of my first chapter to reveal the name.

But, for those of you who want to keep your character nameless through the entire story, all the way up to the end, ignore this advice.

2: Good/Bad Writing Advice

The trope of writing a nameless character often comes with bad advice given in the context of good and the other way around, too. I've seen readers/writers say, 'It's always a good idea to name your characters in the first five sentences' or 'If you don't name your character, everyone will get confused'. Well, to put it bluntly, yes. Both of these things are true, but they are not necessarily good or bad.

For new writers just starting out, it may be difficult to work with tenses, multiple characters, and keeping your pronouns in order in a scene. It can become really confusing, but it is possible to pull off if you have enough experience with thinking outside and around the box.

Actually, there are some really great books that have nameless characters all the way through. I've even read some really good fanfics where the character is nameless (and I'm not talking Y/N Reader/Character fanfics here). It definitely can be done.

3: This is Freaking Difficult

If you like to challenge yourself as a writer, a nameless character is the way to do it. As I mentioned in the last part, writing purely from the perspective of a nameless character can be a very wonderful experience. Actually, it can help you work on some of your own weaknesses, and you may even discover some really useful writing skills by having to work around a scene with your character and others. It's almost like doing a social experiment with characters in one room.

I definitely encourage any writer to challenge themselves. However, if you get frustrated with it, take a break and think around the problem.

4: Perspective!

When I think about perspective, I think about what I want readers to experience in the shoes of my characters. Part of writing compelling characters is seeing their world through their eyes and knowing them intimately.

I'll start off with the most annoying POV (Sorry to those who love this POV, I don't, and I'll explain this in another post at some point), 1st Person.

1st Person is a very static POV, but it is actually a really good place to start with a nameless character. It's perhaps the easiest way to write your character, and you can definitely do some witchery with 1st Person (I'll be touching on this later).

3rd Person is probably the trickiest one for reasons stated above and the use of pronouns, tenses, and just overall clutter in a scene with multiple characters. However, you can also do some really cool witchery with how your character perceives themselves. More on that in a bit.

5: Get your spellbooks out cause we are cursing characters!

Okay, okay... so you want to make your nameless character stay nameless when talking to other characters. You want to drop little hints to their identity, but you don't want to outright say who they are. You want your reader to fall madly in love with this character even if they are not particularly the best person to be around, but they are so damn mysterious it's... well, it's almost sexy.

This is where thinking around the box and getting out your book of useful tricks comes in handy.

Your character has been invited to the bar with a new group of friends they just met at college. They can't introduce themselves because when they say their name, nothing comes out. Nothing. It's like someone pressed mute on a TV remote, but everyone else heard it. Then, later, when someone says their name, the same effect happens. Only the name is just muffled to where your character can't understand it. Your character has no idea what their own name is, but everyone else does.

Now bonus points if your character tries to make up a name to get around this, but anything that he uses has the same effect, therefore removing their identity. This could be a really cool concept because it involves the use of a curse, and Curses can be a really cool way to spark motivation in your nameless character.

Curses aren't the only things you can use. Another trope I've seen used is Amnesia, where a character starts out with no memory, no identity, and only has the words of others to go off of.

There are several ways to go about keeping your character nameless, and all of them are super fun.

But they take some practice.

In conclusion:

Just because someone says a nameless character is a horrible idea doesn't mean it can't be done in a very good way. I'm not an expert, but I have been writing fanfiction and original works for over 20 years now. I've seen some interesting things at that time. I've read some really amazing books that break the mold. These books work because the author has learned that YOU CAN NOT PLEASE EVERYONE. Some readers will love it, and others will stop reading after the first five chapters. You aren't going to fit everyone's taste. Having a nameless character is super interesting if done well and can give your readers a chance to feel something that can be a little terrifying or sympathetic. Nameless characters can represent a whole base of people who are trying to learn who they are in this crazy world of ours. There are people out there who are building their identity as a person, and a nameless character is also doing the same.

I encourage everyone to think outside and around the box. Don't let someone tell you it can't be done and that no one will read it, they are wrong because there are almost 8 billion people on this planet. At least a handful of them are looking for a story like yours.

Stay Classy.

[darkfictionjude]

hello! here to report some bugs! the one on the left didn’t quite make sense to me. it’s the scene where the mc has the welcome back party and sally introduces us to this drunk couple. i chose the option of not saying anything, looking around the room, but it reacts as if mc had said something.

the second one is half a bug, half a suggestion. first, the bug. wrong pronouns since i’m playing a trans man mc. so, instead of “where are you going to leave /her/?” it should be “him.” the suggestion is about the nickname. usually nicknames are based off of full names, right? so, since i chose to change my mc’s name, “Ave” (short for Avelina), would be sort of deadnaming the mc. ofc, i could just choose the nickname from the beginning which is completely fine, but i was just wondering if maybe we could be allowed to change nicknames when we choose mc’s new name?

side note: i had chosen the name avelina because i wanted to choose a name i didn’t like for my mc. not because it was a bad name but because of the meaning. i don’t exactly remember what it was but i know it had something to do with birds. i thought of it as a sort of bird in a cage type of meaning, going for the negative aspect of it. imagine the delight i felt when i found out about nia’s nickname for mc! and then how the mc had also gone for the possible negative meaning of the name just to be told we were called that because of our strength. goosebump moment for real.

okay, imma go mimis now since i pulled an all nighter to finish reading the demo. i loved it! take care, author. many blessings. <3

(sorry for any typos i can barely keep my eyes open)

So I made a little note at the beginning of the game for trans and enby players I think it’s something like ((click here if you’re going to play a transgender crown)) Crowny is not out before episode 5, it didn’t feel organic to do that. That’s why the pronouns are what they were assigned at birth and it changes in episode 5. It also helps with the parent flashback because it would feel out of character for them to respect Crowny’s gender and pronouns I wanted to do trans crownies justice ☺️

The thing with nicknames is that I don’t know how the coding would react if I also add it after the name change of episode 5 😭 coding is very unpredictable with twine like sometimes something works and suddenly with no change on my part it stops working I can see if I can get to it one day but right now I’m a bit swamped with getting the trans code to work for episode 5

Also thank you for the meme ❤️

[cielenruine]

yoinked from neffi! thank you

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Kuno

Pronouns: He/Him

Birthday (no year): 8/29

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Georgia! EST

How long is your roleplay experience? A little over a decade

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Google Plus Black Butler Rp that turned into rping literally any series I got into including fusing them most of the time

How were you introduced to TOA? Dewy :3

Do you have any pets? Two hamsters named Grahammy and Daryl

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Winter, hot coco and blankies is a combo unbeaten

What is your IRL occupation? University student majoring in art

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I’m boring I just do whatever occupies my time the most interestingly

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play?Splatoon, FFXIV, MGS:PW and PP. EXVS: Maxiboost On, HSR, and Arknights

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: (I have not played much pokemon) Water and Garchomp

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this out last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!)I have spent well over 1k on gundam figures despite only getting into the series in 2020

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I played heroes here and there beforehand, but I went to Texas to join a friend for locals and he had the game so while he was off at work he let me borrow it and then the night after the tournament, a bunch of the guys we were playing with gave me $80 to buy the game +dlc

What Fire Emblem games have you played? Heroes, Warriors, 3H, and 3hopes

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: Warriors, 3 Hopes

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Jakob beloved, Lambert, Dimitri, Rhea, Flayn

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Dimitri, give me a guy with issues surrounding both chivalry and his father’s will/legacy and I am easily swayed

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳Lambert there will never be another man like you

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?- Three Houses: Flayn, probably no one honestly, Byleth gives their love to everyone equally in my heart

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Paladin and put that luck and charm in the gutter

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Unafifiliated Faerghan citizen obsessed with the history of the place

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Reason, Swords Banes:Faith, Authority

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? Brodia what can I say I am nothing if not predictable

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔separate letters

Current TOA muses: Matthias

Past TOA muses? N/A

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Matthias :3

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? Fathers who’s actions can be taken as morally dubious and children of said fathers who struggle with whether to follow in their footsteps or not

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? I don’t think I could handle a genki character but I’d love to try some day

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?)The moments in between action where the characters reflect on themselves and have a heart to heart with one another,

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”?I would love to write Matthias at his current age tapping back into the whimsy he had before his wife and kid died

Favorite TOA-related memories?I doubt I’m ever going to forget Matthias and Edelgard tying with each other during All Aboard

Present or past tense?Both at the same time. (Past more so)

Normal size text, small text, no preference?No preference really

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 Mayhaps….a Dedue or Annete….mayhaps…