#he’s going to die a second time???

[touyahoedoroki]

if touya dies I’m actually going to kill myself

[opikiquu]

my life a movie (PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR)

[bumblydumbly]

i think that if kabru saw that “laios meeting falin for the first time” strip he’d be sobbing uncontrollably

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[aq2003]

who up mac'ing their beth

[applepixls]

when scar died grian said "guys that would've happened even if there was no wild card. its not my fault"

like hes used to scars deaths being at his hands

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"

[superbat-lmao]

Jason Todd Fic (De-aged?)

(INCOMPLETE/UNFINISHED)

Of all the kinds of magic, Jason Todd hates death magic the most.

So when the call comes through about Grave Affair, he tells Oracle where she can shove it.

“Hood, if there was anyone else available I’d have called them. Believe me, you’re beyond my last choice for this.”

And he’s standing on a rooftop, firing rubber bullets at a guy wielding a magic scythe. He’s ranting about final words, last confessions, things Jason never had.

He’s trying not to think of dirt and starched sleeves and silk linings.

When he’s finally close enough, Jason disarms the guy, but not without the blade touching him.

There’s a thud behind him but he’s already got the wannabe reaper in cuffs by the time he turns around.

And is met with his 15 year old self, wearing an outfit he knows. An outfit that never made it back to his closet.

The boy’s in shock, momentarily disoriented and Jason’s lucky the kid isn’t running, but Oracle is in his ear, awaiting confirmation of something Jason doesn’t think he can say out loud.

He takes off the helmet, holsters his guns, and crouches as low as he can. The kid is squinting at him but he isn’t running.

“You’ve been displaced in time.” He jerks a thumb at the knock off grave digger behind him. “The scythe cut me and brought you here. I’m you, but older.”

The kid squints harder, if that’s possible. Jason uses a couple of the old bat-signs, and doesn’t remove his domino.

“Prove it.”

God, every time he’d tried to seem intimidating, that’s how he’d sounded?

Jason tilts his head and thinks a moment. His old scars are gone, it can’t be anything Jason would willingly volunteer, but even now he doesn’t want to say those things out loud.

“We never told Bruce about Catherine’s last dealer.” The kid stopped squinting. “Or, or about. Well, we never told anyone about Tommy.” The kid flinched. It was a name neither of them had spoken since he died.

“Are we going back to the manor?” Jason shrugged at him. He didn’t want to, but this wasn’t about what he wanted anymore. He wanted to take the kid back to his safe house and burn those clothes. He wanted to cut out his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Depends. Let me call in the calvary to come pick this guy up and you can decide. It’s the manor, or my safe house.”

He put the helmet on to be met with silence, either Babs was finally at a loss for words or had muted his channel. He sent his location and the pick-up signal. There was no confirmation and Jason decided he had hit his limit on dealing with bats before physically disconnecting himself from the comms network.

“If I pick the manor, how upset will they be?”

And wasn’t that just a crowbar to the gut?

“Not in the way you’re thinking, but a lot. I’ll be honest, it’s going to be worse than when [insert]. I know what you think they’re upset about and for them, it was years ago. But you going back will be like a bomb going off for them. I’ll take you, but you’ve gotta know it’ll probably overwhelm you.”

“And the safe house?”

“I’ll take the couch. And make you wear a different set of clothes because just looking at you hurts. But um, you can ask questions or don’t. Eat, read, ignore me. It’ll be a breather until the manor, or until the spell ends and you go back.”

“Go back?”

Jason wanted to throw up.

“To Ethiopia.”

——

True to his word, Jason burned those clothes the second they were in his safe house.

The kid, because he wasn’t willing to think of him as himself, had locked himself in Jason’s bedroom with a couple paperback copies of things he said he hadn’t read yet. Jason was making a sort of pasta bake in the oven and cleaning his guns on the coffee table.

His gear, except for the helmet, was stashed away properly, but he hadn’t turned the comms back on. He was sure that Oracle had been alerting all of the bats to the presence of his 15 year old self and watching live feeds of the interrogation to see what spell was cast, or how the scythe worked, but Jason was trying to avoid thinking about it.

Because if it was him, if he was 15 instead of 23 and in an apartment with an adult man claiming to be himself but built like Bruce, he’d fucking lock himself in and refuse to come out. Sure, he wouldn’t want to see the bats, all the people he remembers letting down by running away and at the peak of their fighting where Jason had believed none of them actually cared about him, but that doesn’t mean he’d really want to be alone with the veritable stranger of himself either.

He has his phone shut off, his comms are physically disabled, and this particular safe house is one he hasn’t had the chance to use yet since it’s a sort of last resort. It’s kept in a spot with few to no cameras and hasn’t been around long. Jason makes a point of keeping one safe house as a last resort, so that if he really does fuck up beyond what the bats can tolerate, there will be one place they can’t immediately find him.

He’ll have to burn this one soon, but it gives them a couple hours, if not about two days.

He’s trying not to remember the fight, the hasty decision to leave, being told there wasn’t enough room in the helicopter. God, he doesn’t even know at what point the kid was taken from, but Ethiopia hadn’t surprised him. He must not have made it into the warehouse yet.

When the oven goes off, Jason is trying hard not to picture cigarette smoke and eyes in the dark.

He makes two plates, sets one on the counter and the other on the coffee table, and goes to knock on the door to the bedroom.

When the younger Jason emerges, he looks wary, but not frightened. There’s also a calculating look in his eye that Jason knows others assume he got from Bruce, but was present while he was on the streets.

“Do you mind if I eat out here?”

“Knock yourself out.”

They’re almost finished eating when the boy finally speaks up.

“I’ve got questions for you.”

“Sure, but I have one for you too. Only one, so you pick what you wanna do first. Ask or answer.”

“Ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“The guy that brought me here, what does the magic entail?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure. He was doing his little speech while we were fighting, something about meeting yourself and seeking absolution I think. It sounded like a chance to ask yourself questions or have a conversation with a different version of yourself but I don’t exactly know why. I also don’t know how long it lasts. I got the call about him pretty late and walked in without a full picture. One of the other bats is probably looking more into it right now and we’ll get an update at some point.”

“Other bats?”

Jason doesn’t envy Talia for having to explain to him Bruce’s knack for acquiring orphans.

“Remember when Bruce first took us in and we couldn’t understand what he wanted from us? Well, it’s morphed into a bit of a habit of picking up orphans. It isn’t just Dick, Alfred and us anymore. There’s a couple others and all the explanations are kinda long, so I’ll wait till the end to really get into that if it’s alright. In terms of how many are important for you to keep track of and you might come across at the manor, at least six, excluding the three you know.”

“Why aren’t you living at the manor? Why do you have a safe house?”

“A couple years from how old you are now, Bruce and I have a fight. We’re still kind of working on it, but it’s easier for me to have my own place than have to deal with all the riff raff. The manor isn’t as quiet as it used to be, and it’s too many variables.”

God, he’s really trying to be vague here instead of having to tell the kid he’s right and his Dad doesn’t love him. That his Dad doesn’t save him and that he’ll try to kill him. Jason doesn’t know if he can look his younger self in the eye and tell him everything he’s done. But he remembers being overwhelmed by too many people, too many emotions to try and navigate in conversations. It’s still something he struggles with, not that he’s told anyone about it.

“What was the fight about?”

“Since we don’t know how much of this you’ll remember when you get sent back, I don’t really want to get into specifics, in case we create some sort of paradox. Once we know for sure I’ll give you more details but basically, appropriate levels of consequence alongside a heavy dose of blame for shit Bruce fucked up.”

“What about Dick and Alfred?”

“What about them?”

“What do they think? Do they agree with you or Bruce?”

“They’re a little more complicated. Alfred loves us, has made sure we know it, but abstains from voicing his true opinions on it. I think he disagrees with us, but doesn’t want to push. Dick is vocal about disagreeing with us, but doesn’t think Bruce is completely in the clear either. He’s harder to predict in conversation and his goals are less obvious than Alfred’s.”

“What’s your question for me?”

“What’s the last thing you remember before coming here?”

“Bruce getting in a helicopter and telling me to stay put.”

“Alright.”

“That’s it?”

“All the useful information will come from this time, not yours. I just wanted to make sure I knew what part of the day you’d already been through.”

His younger self appears to think this over.

It’s almost a relief talking to him. Jason’s goals have always been pretty straight forward. Stay fed, stay warm, protect himself against adults, and stay alert. There are no mind games, or unspoken rules, or demands, or debts for his actions. As an adult, there is nothing he would want from a kid and as a kid, he’s found probably the only adult he’ll believe doesn’t want anything from him.

“Can you tell me about the other bats?”

“Sure, but I’m starting on dishes and you’re filling tupperware while I’m talking.”

So Jason explains Tim and Damian and Cass and Steph and Duke and Babs. He’s careful to avoid his own history and how he met them, only really stating how they each got taken in. How they met Bruce. His younger self doesn’t seem to mind the vague information, it’s been a long day and Jason doesn’t have much to hide from him except the obvious, his death and resurrection. So by the time the kitchen is clean, there’s little left to say except a brief rundown of what’s stocked where, what parts of the apartment have traps set, and what weapons are allowed to be kept in the bedroom.

He tells the kid he’ll be doing a short patrol tonight. They have a code for “all clear” that predates the bats, so they’ll stick to it. And he gives the kid a burner in case his training isn’t enough. He shows him how to contact himself, and if it’s really bad, the emergency beacon.

Nightwing is the one who finds him, but he isn’t stupid enough to recognize the others are likely on hand but just out of reach so that when he runs, they minimize his head start.

“Oracle says you shut off your phone, comms, tracker, and is locating your safe house as we speak.”

“And you’re telling me because?”

“Because we need to bring him to the cave. Because he won’t cooperate with any of us. Because we don’t want either of you to be alone and you damn well scared the hell out of all of us by disappearing like that.”

“You guys figure out the scythe and how long before he’s sent back?”

“Lantern figured it out. About 7 more days, from what we can tell.”

“How long until B’s planet side again?”

“About 3 days.”

There’s math somewhere in that sentence that Jason can’t calculate. A problem he doesn’t have the answer for. He refuses to acknowledge what’s about to happen, because if he does, he’ll step off the roof without his grapple.

“Tell the calvary to stop hiding and meet us here. I need everyone to agree to ground rules.”

Cass is the most proficient at B’s trick of appearing from the shadows, but the rest of the bats are a fair hand at it too. And suddenly, everyone who had been out of town slightly over a day ago, was congregated on a single roof. If Jason couldn’t solve the problem of seven days and Bruce Wayne, he’s not sure he really has a chance with so many more variables thrown in. Especially with the least predictable ones.

“We will meet you all at the cave tomorrow, in the morning. You are not crowding my safe house.”

There is some shuffling, but no objections.

“I have told him all of your names. He does not know more than how each of you loosely came to meet B. He does not know my vigilante name, the new kids vigilante names, except Oracle, or how I met any of you. Or when.”

The shuffling has stopped. It’s just the dark, silence, Jason, and everyone he’s spent what amounts to his current life avoiding.

“He is 15 and for him, Batman just got on a helicopter in Ethiopia.”

If there’s silence now, Jason can’t hear it over the rushing in his ears.

“For as long as he is in this timeline, I will remain close enough to get him out of any situation you put him in.”

He’s focusing on a spot in the middle distance. Jason is afraid he might black out.

“He will know that we are lying to him soon, although I can’t guess how quick he’ll catch on. When he asks about it, about our - death.”

It takes almost a full minute for Jason to keep speaking.

“You will direct him to me.”

Jason sweeps his unfocused eyes over a mismatched group of vigilantes in the dark. They are rigid and unflinching. Jason wants more than anything in the world to be somewhere, anywhere else.

“You will not leave him and B alone in the same room together.”

This time, his eyes are focused and he meets each of their gazes.

He looks to Cass last, and at her nod, Jason steps off the roof and swings away.

——

Jason gives himself ground rules the next morning.

“You can ask questions. You might not always get an answer.”

“If someone will not give you an answer, come find me.”

“If you want out, of anything, you press the button I gave you.”

“I will remain in the same building as you at all times. If you need space from me, say so. If you want me in the next room, signal. I will stay as close or as far as you prefer.”

“There are things that the others will know that you have not shared. I cannot undo that, and I am sorry. However, both things that I told you as proof of myself are, to my knowledge, things they remain unaware of.”

“I will respect whatever decision you make in what you choose to share with them.”

“I will not, under any circumstances, allow you and B to be alone in the same room.”

The final rule gets him a raised eyebrow, one that he stares unflinchingly at.

“Why not?”

“I do not trust his emotional regulation when it comes to you. He is still safe, still Bruce or Batman or B. But he has made far too many mistakes for me to allow him to make decisions regarding you. I believe him to be, emotionally compromised.”

There is still skepticism in his own face. The face of a child that will never become an adult. Not the way he should have.

“And you won’t tell me why?”

“Not until we know for sure about eh paradox thing. And we both know there are some things neither of us are ever gonna want to talk about - for me, this is one of them. So, for now, no.”

The kid seems to accept this and they pack a small bag of Jason’s gear and books. They’re on his motorcycle in less than half an hour and are pulling up to the cave entrance in less than two hours.

There is no welcome party. Just the cave, and Alfred.

There is no glass case.

When Jason cuts the engine on the bike, he feels pins and needles down his spine.

He takes his gear out of his bag and moves towards the lockers to store it. He can’t watch this. Can’t watch his younger self approach Alfred. He tries not to hear what they say to each other. He fails.

Jason doesn’t have to imagine what he would have said to Alfred when he was 15, if he had gotten home. The conversation is eerily similar to his own nightmares.

“Hey Alfie.”

“Master Jason, it has been a long time since I have seen you, although I suspect the reverse is not quite true for you.”

He hears a huffed laugh behind him and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

Jason knows he must have steeled himself to the words, to say them now or risk not saying them at all.

“Master Ja-“

“And I know that I shouldn’t have done it. And that he, I said that it’s been years since you’ve probably thought about it, since I ran away, so maybe you’ve already gotten the apology but for me it was yesterday. And I don’t know how I’m going to go home and tell you that I’m sorry, and I know I will never get to skip chores for the rest of my life but Alfie I just need to know that you don’t hate me too.”

Jason remembers being 15 and thinking that Bruce didn’t trust him anymore, thinking that he killed a man, and that Dick was never really his older brother and that he just wanted a parent. Someone normal who could love him normally without it being twisted up into expectations and disappointment. He remembers the polite distance that he thought Alfred was using every time he called him Master Jason, and how it had felt like a barrier to one of the only adults he was almost convinced loved him. How he all but threw it back in the man’s face by running away to another continent to chase down a woman who sold him out.

Jason doesn’t know what Alfred’s face looks like. Doesn’t want to know.

Because he knows the tension in his own voice, the way it spells out tears. Knows that his younger self if already crying even if he can’t hear it at this distance. Cannot allow himself to picture what Alfred must look like.

“Oh Jason, my boy.”

And there is a soft sound behind him, a rustle of fabric and a hiccup pressed into a shirt.

He’s sure Alfred has bundled him up and carried him over to one of the cots, or chairs, or even the training mats. He doesn’t turn around. He wasn’t meant to hear this.

Because Alfred is murmuring nonsense into his hair. And holding him while he cries. And Jason forces himself to walk upstairs to the kitchen, to sit at the counter and wait.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time he calls Babs.

“Oracle.”

“Jason, what do you want?”

“I need an alert set up. One that will go straight to my phone the second B is planet side. One that tells me when he is within 100 yards of the manor, even if he comes by Kryptonian.”

There’s a silence on the line. Either the bats were broadcasting to her through an open comm during his little speech the night before, or Dick filled her in. Either way, they both know she knows his last rule.

“Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Jason drifts for a while. At least until he hears footsteps closing the familiar distance between the cave and the kitchen.

Jason gives them both a small nod when the come in, and the younger Jason takes a seat right next to him, without a buffer, but they don’t speak much as Alfred starts his prep work on lunch.

It’s obvious the kid has a question when his shoulders start to tense.

“What’s your question?”

“What room am I staying in?”

Jason glances over to Alfred, and he looks about as calm as to be expected. He’d never expected to see Alfred cry, but he feels a dulled shock at the sight of his reddened eyes.

“You are welcome to your old room, or I can prepare a guest room for you.”

“Why wouldn’t you be using our room?”

“That fight I mentioned? Well, I was - hurt a while after. It was easier for me to stay on the first floor than to take the stairs. I’m not here as often anymore, so I mostly stick to the guest room if I am. You can take our room if you want it.”

There’s a small part of him that wants to pray that Alfred made the room look less like a shrine, or a time capsule, because the kid knows several years have passed for Jason and if he walks into the same room he remembers from earlier “that day” Jason isn’t sure how he’ll face those questions right now.

“I had some time to prepare it this morning, it might be close to what you remember and I took the liberty of stocking it with your old clothes that fit you now.”

“Thanks Alfie.”

After a while, the kid glances at him and Jason supposes he’s got a fair guess as to where he wants to go. He clears his throat.

“We’ll be in the library until lunch. And um, thank you.”

He doesn’t want to read the look on Alfred’s face. He doesn’t want to be in this kitchen. In this building. The look on Alfred’s face is kinder than he deserves.

“Of course, Master Jason. Do enjoy yourselves.”

They aren’t ambushed on the way to the library, but they aren’t alone when they enter.

The kid stiffens beside him and shoots a glance at Jason’s left hand. Counts the taps, and then relaxes.

Jason knows Cass also probably counted the taps, and might be able to figure out what they mean, but they’ve never talked about it.

“Hello, Cass.”

“Hello, Jasons.”

There’s a snort from the kid and Jason is grateful that she staged their meeting like this. Of everyone else in the manor, Cass is the one who hates seeing anyone, including Jason, in pain. She’s the only one aside from Alfred who seems to understand when he needs to leave and lets him.

“Want me to read in here or go put books in your room?”

The kid eyes Cass for a moment, and then Jason.

“You can take the books. But if you want to read too I won’t stop you.”

Jason takes that for what it is, that the kid will be alright for a few minutes, but doesn’t want more than 20 by himself.

Dick is waiting for him outside the door to his old bedroom.

“You didn’t say the rest of us couldn’t see him alone, just Bruce.”

Jason’s mouth is dry. He pushes the door open and is off kilter. It looks like when he was 15. It looks like he never went to high school. It looks just enough like his old room and yet everything that had made it his, was gone.

“It’s up to him. Bruce is the only one I won’t allow to be alone with him. It doesn’t have to be me in the room if the kid doesn’t want, but they won’t be alone.”

“You think he’ll hurt him?”

That startles Jason, badly enough that he laughs. It’s a broken sound, scratches all the edges of his throat and teeth as it leaves his mouth. Dick tenses behind him.

“You don’t want to know what I think.”

“Jason, I don’t know how to fix this.”

Jason sets the books down on his old desk and turns. He doesn’t want this conversation. He doesn’t want to keep talking to these people. He’s sick of the echoes of his old life, the one he can’t return to. He can’t sew himself back into belonging, he doesn’t have enough of the fabric of himself to try.

“You don’t have to try.”

Dick makes a sound like he’s been punched.

“Of course I do -“ Jason cuts him off.

“We weren’t brothers, Dick. You made that clear, not just to me, but to him. I don’t know what you’re trying to do now, but you don’t have to. I’m not asking you to. It’s not your job to try and clean up B’s mistakes. You’re running yourself into the ground trying to play clean up crew for him. Just stop.”

“I’m trying to fix my own mistakes Jason, not his. I shouldn’t have treated you like you weren’t my brother. I want you to be my brother now. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what you want, but I want to try. It’s the only regret I can’t live with.”

Dick looks close to tears. Scratch that, Jason can see them, running silently down his face. His breath just isn’t hitching and he can’t seem to decide if Jason will be more or less upset if he keeps up the eye contact, but he continues to stand outside Jason’s childhood bedroom. Waiting. Asking for permission. Asking to be let in.

“Is this your dry run of the speech you’re gonna give the kid?”

“This is the first time you’ve been in one place long enough for me to get the words out. You’ve bolted long before I had worked up the nerve to say it to you before.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then tell me how to prove it to you.”

Jason thinks it over. He thinks about himself, about a kid sitting on a roof and squinting at him, asking for proof. He’d known how to convince his 15 year old self. He’s not sure how to convince himself now. He wishes the dull ache in his chest would go away. That he could stop wanting people, stop remembering the familiarity they used to share, even if it wasn’t always happy.

It never stopped him, even when it should have. He would still run jobs for Willis, or get a fix for Catherine. He still tried to save Shelia. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it again. He didn’t last time.

But the part of him that he couldn’t avoid thinking about anymore, the part of him standing in his favorite room on the planet, just down the hall, felt like it was clawing through his ribcage. The part of him that would always be 15 and desperate to have an older brother, to have a family, someone who could just make the world go away for a minute. Not another fucked up parental figure, but someone else. That part of him was trying to escape himself and curl up inside the person who wouldn’t even cross the threshold of his door without permission.

“Ask me again in two weeks.”

“What?”

“Once the kid is gone, give me a week. If you’re serious.”

“I am. In two weeks, what then?”

Maybe more of his composure had cracked than he was willing to admit. Because the look he was giving Dick made the man crumple.

“I don’t know, but. I’d be willing to try.”

“Can I - please, Jason I won’t. Right now I just. Please come here. Just for a minute, please Jay.”

And maybe in two weeks Jason would be able to let him in, maybe he wouldn’t have to wait outside the door. But he knows the week he’s in for. It’s going to be long, and worse than any torture Jason’s been through so far. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to get through it.

To look a 15 year old in the eyes and send him to his death.

Jason fucking hates death magic.

So he takes a step forward, and another and another until the door is shut behind him. Until Dick has a death grip around his waist and forces Jason’s arms over his shoulders. His face is jammed right into his chest and Jason rests his own against Dick’s shoulder.

“I am so glad you’re alive, little wing.”

Jason allows himself five minutes. To memorize the sensation in a way that he wouldn’t be able to forget. Sometimes, when he would try to think back and picture Catherine, he would wish he had been able to memorize the hugs she gave him more clearly.

When he steps back, Dick’s hands spasm beneath him for a minute before seeming to remember himself and let go. He doesn’t try to wipe at his eyes and the smile he tries to give Jason is shaky. Jason doesn’t know what his face looks like. He’s not surprised when Dick’s hands brush tears from the undersides of his eyes.

He doesn’t think he can say anything else. And Dick seems to understand, because he gently turns them both in the direction of the library and walks with him until Jason’s steps are more sure.

When he turns to go in, Jason knows he’s damming himself. Because the glance he risks behind him, not quite turning back, but not not tuning back, is met with a smile he’s never seen before. One that makes his chest seize painfully because it’s full of something Jason can’t believe is still in him. That hasn’t been drowned out by the relentless wave that Jason has struggled to keep his head above. The one thing he hadn’t parted with even in his final moments.

Hope.

——

From the looks of it, the kid’s conversation with Cass had gone better than his own with Dick. He looks weary, and still a bit on edge, but he hasn’t been crying, nothings broken, no one’s yelling, and Cass has a small smile that is usually reserved for Steph on her face.

Whatever Cass can read in his own posture doesn’t seem to alter her stance, but the kid looks slightly more alarmed when he meets his eyes.

He taps his leg four times and gets a look of utter disbelief, but the subject is dropped before it’s even picked up.

“What’re you reading?”

“The Brothers Karamazov.”

Huh. Jason’s not sure what to say to that. Not without spoiling more than a book.

“Let me know if it’s any good.”

That gets him a laugh. Small, but there. And yeah, he wouldn’t believe he hadn’t read it either.

Cass looks like she’s said all she wanted to, so he sets up shop, cracks open something at random, and settles in. She briefly squeezes his shoulder, and then is gone.

It’s maybe 20 minutes before Jason hears the pages of a book not in his own hands stop turning.

“Are you sure about the four?”

One meant danger. Two meant stay alert. Three meant “safe enough.”

Four meant safe.

They’ve never used four taps for anyone. If Jason had to hazard a guess, the only person that would come close is Alfred, but he’d hadn’t shared the street code with the Bats back then, so it wouldn’t have meant anything to them.

“Yeah, Dickface wanted a quick chat. I’m not sure when he’ll try and drop by to talk to you, but I’d guess before lunch. Once he settles down a bit.”

“Cass said she’s new to learning English, that she doesn’t have much practice speaking yet. Said she reads posture better than words.”

“She gives the old man a run for his money in combat. Of all of us, she’s the best at hand to hand.”

“You didn’t try and school your posture when you came in.”

“Figured out pretty early on it’s not really worth it. And with multiple people in a room, trying to sort out all the contradictions can give her a headache. She’s never used it against us in a way we didn’t deserve, so I don’t hold it against her.”

“What did Dick want?”

“My fight with B is a bit bigger than I really wanted to concern you with. Dick wanted to talk to me before speaking with you so that I don’t complicate what he has to say to you with what he has to say to me.”

“Can we please figure out quicker whether or not there will be some sort of paradox once I’m sent back? Because I’ve been pretty good at rolling with your vague fucking answers, but I’m reaching my limit for bullshit.”

“Noted. After lunch I’ll try and get in touch with Lantern and see what the full deal is.”

“Do you want to be in here when Dick comes to talk to me?”

“Not about me kid. It’s up to you.”

“You didn’t stick around for Alfred.”

Jason doesn’t have anything to say to that. The kid’s right, it was the only break he was willing to give himself.

“You’ve done alright with him and Cass so far. Do you want me in here when Dick drops by?”

“I don’t know.”

It should surprise him more that this version of himself is giving him such direct answers. But then again, after reorienting, he supposes that out of everyone, Jason really had only trusted himself. He knew the lengths he would go to to protect himself, to stay alive. And if the kid knows he uses guns now, then maybe it really has settled in that nothing has changed except the knowledge of how far he’d really be willing to go.

“God, what is it with all of them and talking?”

Jason laughs a little at the frustration. It’s one he shares.

“One and I’ll get you out. Two and I’ll stay but Dick will leave. Three and we’ll both stay. Four and I’ll leave.”

He gets a brief nod, and then they’re both absorbed in their books for at least an hour.

He notices Dick in the doorway a full 15 seconds before the kid does. Neither startles, but he can see the kid roll his eyes from behind his book.

When he seems to catch himself with what he’s doing. He tenses.

Dick looks different from when he was 18. To Jason he’d seemed like an adult, but it’s obvious to him now that he’s a far cry from the adult he is now. He’s steadier, less volatile. Less teenage angst, more adult grief.

“Hey, Dick.”

There’s a small smile on Dick’s face and Jason tries to tell himself to focus on his book. He doesn’t succeed.

“Hey, Jason. I wanted to come and see you before lunch. It’s going to be pretty hectic and you’ll probably meet most of the new kids. But, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you at 15, and from what Jason tells me of the day you came from, I figured we should talk just between us.”

“I - you’re off world right now. Um, I left a note for B and Alfred but yeah. I kinda ran away. And, I don’t know if it’s different now because Jason said B adopted like a million people, but I did try and call you before I realized you were off world. I left a voice mail and. And maybe we’re not really brothers right now. But, I’m still sorry. I don’t know how I said it in the future, or when you got back, but -“

Jason doesn’t know what his own face is doing. But he can’t look at the kid. All he sees is Dick, who had already cried himself out earlier, get a fresh sheen of tears in his eyes.

It would have been kinder for Jason to shoot him.

The younger Jason risks a glance at Dick and then shoots Jason a look with far more panic in it than he feels equipped to handle. Jason taps three times.

Dick sucks in a long breath, trying to recenter himself under the scrutiny.

“It’s alright, little wing, I know I wasn’t a very good brother when you came to the manor. I couldn’t set aside my problems with Bruce and it wasn’t fair to you. I promise you none of that was your fault, or about you at all. You don’t have to apologize.”

There’s a look on younger Jason’s face that he’s trying and failing to school away. Of all the traits of Bruce he’s been told to have, Dick was the only one of them that ever properly managed that blank and unreadable look. Jason has always been too expressive.

It’s longing and a whole lot of distrust.

“B thinks I killed Garzonas, Dick.”

Dick does take a step forward then. Jason seems to realize that the couch he’s sitting on really is big enough for two, because he scoots over just a bit.

“B says a lot of things he regrets, little wing. I know for a fact that you didn’t kill him, that B’s wrong and it wasn’t fair of him to accuse you of that.”

“You know now maybe, but you’re not really my Dick Grayson.”

Dick takes another step forward and Jason stays perfectly still.

“Maybe not right now, but you’re still my little wing, no matter how old you are.” He shoots a wry glance at Jason. “Or how many of you there are.”

“What did you say before? Eighteen year old you?”

It’s an effort for Dick and Jason not to look at each other. To not give it away.

“By the time I got back planet side, things were different. We never really talked about it much, but I ripped B a new one when I learned what he’d said to you. It’s one of the bigger fights we’ve had actually. But I don’t think that’s really what you mean.”

“I should have told you that it wasn’t your fault. That when I was your age I wanted nothing more than to kill the man who took away my parents. That watching him walk around was an injustice I couldn’t stomach. That B had to physically restrain me and I had lectures about it for weeks before he let me anywhere near the case. I was so angry with him, with Zucco, and a part of me is still the kid that wanted him dead. That not every death is always a sad one, even if we’re not responsible for it. And I’m sorry he made you feel like he didn’t trust you because of it. You are my brother and I love you so much and it wasn’t your fault.”

Dick takes his final step towards the small couch and Jason throws himself at his brother. The brother he always wanted and could never seem to have.

“He just fell Dick, I swear I didn’t push him. And I’m glad he’s dead, he killed her and I just, I can’t believe B didn’t believe me. That he doesn’t trust me. I’m sorry I ran away, I’m sorry he fell. He said I’m not his son.”

Dick was wrapped around the younger Jason who had finally given in to the brother he’d always wanted.

Jason wonders if it would have been that easy if Dick hadn’t been in space. If he’d been able to crash at his apartment and talk this out with him before running off to Ethiopia.

But they hadn’t really been on the best terms anyways back then. Even leaving him a voicemail had felt like pushing the boundary of what Jason was allowed to ask for. At 15 he had only learned to mostly accept Alfred, and sometimes B. Dick was more of a distant idea than a real person, a tangible relationship.

When Jason tuned back into the conversation, eyes were being dried and there was a faint look sent his way. But no taps, so they were in the clear.

*I sometimes write drafts of fics in the notes section of my phone but a lot of them never get finished or are incomplete.

I’m not sure I’ll ever come back to/finish this but people are welcome to add/rewrite or do whatever with this.

[symbologic]

Do you ever wonder if deep down, in Luffy's heart, he doesn't let himself worry about Zoro because he genuinely can't? Because the alternative is simply too horrifying to contemplate for even a second?

Think about how awful it was for Luffy when he lost someone very dear to him at Marineford. This person had even promised — promised! — Luffy that he would never die. That he would never leave him alone. Yet this person who was supposed to be Luffy's constant was ripped away from him, and Luffy was powerless to stop it.

"Devastated" doesn't even come close to describing the abject despair Luffy felt at that moment. He completely shut down and went catatonic.

[tblsomedoodles]

Some Apocalypse Seer twins,

Also the first of my January Speedpaints (Aka make-up work for my missed december speedpaint. I will be doing a second one mid-January.)

Was suggested by @soniclozdplove a few weeks ago. (the suggestion was technically just "seer twins" but i went the apocalypse boys route. I felt the need to draw a billowing cape lol.)

i kinda want to rant about some shit, particularly to do with Donnie's cloak, like how it's darkened over the years, and how between the dark cloak and the fact that if Donnie "rescues" someone they either come back dead or soon to be dead (compared to Leo who's rescues always live), he ends up with a Grim Reaper sort of reputation. But, then again, that's really it on the subject and i'm pretty exhausted rn.

anyways, video link will be up once it's available.

Edit: Speedpaint Link

[valewritessss]

I felt so seen when I first read pjo and it mentioned Annabeth’s arachnophobia. I used to have so many nightmares when I was younger (probably started when I was around five or six), I would wake up in the middle of the night and be so terrified of moving because I thought there were spiders all over my bed. The shadows on my popcorn ceiling looked like spider figures and I remember just laying there sweating and not making a sound because I thought it would attract the spiders I guess? It was routine for me to shout for my mom—poor her, she would be woken at 2 in the morning like thrice a week— and she’d always shake my sheets and lay with me until I feel asleep. She would also take me to sleep with her and my dad in their massive bed (who was I to say no to the invitation?) and it got to the point where I was embarrassed that I couldn’t sleep a whole night without someone. Occasionally, I still have these nightmares about spiders and I just turn on a light, go to the bathroom, come back, and pretend it never happened.

Idk, just thinking about that. I kind of had forgotten about those nightmares but I don’t play when I see spiders because I know it means I’m going to dream about them.

[sittinginsunflowers]

The absolutely real way my heart dropped when Brennan brought out those fucking scantron ass test questions and a timer is proof you never outrun high school and if one of them doesn’t curse him out for this truly cruel (and genius) premise next episode I will be shocked

[randomwriteronline]

based on this post by @legend-as-old-as-time

He's standing there. Right behind him. He can't hear him, but he can feel him - feel his eyes on the back of his head, his hand as it goes to awkwardly cradle an arm, something like a slight breeze.

Tahu doesn't move.

Something tells him he knows what he's about to say.

"So it was supposed to-"

His hand shoots back, pointing in the other's general direction: "Don't you dare," he threatens. "Don't you even dare say that."

The Toa of Ice remains quiet for a second, maybe stunned.

Then, timidly: "I'm not Kopaka."

"That doesn't change anything. You're my brother, and you better not say that."

"I meant - I'm not-"

"I know that! You think I wouldn't be able to tell your voices apart?"

Immediately he sinks a hand into the vents of his Hau's cheeks and chastises himself with a wordless growl.

"Sorry about that," he mutters: "I shouldn't have gotten angry."

"It's alright," Matoro reassures him softly. He hesitates, breathes deeply, ponders what to say for a few more seconds. "For a moment it felt like he was here again."

They allow a long beat of silence to pass.

Afternoon is bleeding into evening, but the sky isn't growing dark yet - might not for a few hours still. They're entering the drought season in the desert, Tarduk said; good thing they've got underground aqueducts that reach into the mountains, or things could get dire quickly if the autumn rains didn't bring in enough reserves.

It looks warm, of an orange color as sweet as certain ripe fruit. It might be the lack of water. Aqua Magna maintained some amount of blueish hue with its immense ocean no matter what hour of the day it might have been.

Neither have moved. It drives him nuts.

"You don't have to stand there like that," Tahu says without looking, "If you want you can sit down with me."

He still doesn't turn when the quiet steps get closer and closer, nor when the brine-covered joints creak gently or when the Toa of Ice gives a short grunt as he does indeed take a seat at about half a bio of distance from him.

He feels Matoro glance at him every now and then, with the slightest fear, but he never steps out of line, never tries to talk.

Maybe he scared him, by telling him off like that.

Tahu grumbles to clear his throat.

"How was he, by the way?" he says, and he tries to sound casual.

Matoro spends a second or two to compose his thoughts: "Like you," he replies a little lamely. "You were - are - were the same person."

"So he was a self-assured bad-tempered idiot?"

That tears a little laugh out of the other, which Tahu counts as a small victory: "He used to be, a little bit. I had to tell Turaga Nuju I couldn't translate an insult he hurled at him once because I was afraid he would have burnt us to a crisp. But I think he got better with time."

"I'm glad to hear that. If I really have changed at least in one universe, that's good news for everybody."

Another sheepish chuckle trails off: "Well, it's... Truth be told, I didn't know much of him," Matoro admits. "I heard what Turaga Vakama said to the others, about his failings and his successes, but there wasn't... There wasn't a real connection, between me and him."

That tracks.

"Maybe you should talk to Jaller," he whispers. "He was devastated. And the Nuva, of course."

He's seen that. In bits and pieces, vague little hints and unplanned outbursts, but he's caught the same tells he'd seen on the Mahri and in Kopaka - the ones he knows.

But he doesn't want to talk to them. Not yet. None of them are ready for that conversation, least of all himself.

This is easier, despite... Despite the whole of it.

It's a bit simpler.

A bit.

"Did you know him?" the other asks suddenly. "Your... Me, I mean."

"Not much." Tahu replies, and there's a little sigh of relief that leaves Matoro that he really can't reprimand or blame him for: "We were as close as you were with me, so not at all. But he was a good being - reliable, skilled. Compassionate. I'm glad I could call him brother, if only for a little."

Shadows grow longer the more they don't talk.

They both shift uneasily as they notice their slow encroaching approach - old habits die hard, and too vivid memories courtesy of the Makuta make them harder to kill - but their purplish color soothes them along with the dusty ground beneath them.

Matoro is cold. He exudes cold, but not like Kopaka: chill wafts from the Nuva of Ice in a constant and steady stream, creating an aura at least three or five inches thick that from his body blurs into the world around him, so that those who stand too close get the gist and leave him some space; for Matoro it snakes across his limbs and trickles off of him in wisps and plumes, like invisible smoke reaching upwards, and it slips onto others almost by accident - more of a tacit comfort than a thorny shield.

It still gives off a strange feeling when it meets the heat blooming from Tahu.

"Well, since you're here to hear it for yourself," the Toa of Fire announces with an almost casual tone: "You are very loved."

He hears the other startle from the surprise.

"What?"

"You are very loved. I don't know how much you - he - you two knew that, but you are."

He hears his fingers fumble for a moment, scraping each other as he plays with them to figure out what to say: "I... Thank you? Why are you... What does this... I don't understand."

"What is there to understand? You're very loved. People miss you."

"Your Mahri don't seem to enjoy the sight of me."

"They're still grappling with the fact that you're here despite being dead. I'm fairly sure that's what the rest of you go through when you see me." Tahu turns further away from Matoro, searching for familiar shapes into the side of a mountain. "We didn't have time to do much immediately after, for... Him. Not that grand gestures would have mattered much, everything got destroyed pretty quickly. And we're nowhere near as morbid as the Agori are-"

"The Agori?" the other's voice tilts in genuine confusion. "What about the Agori?"

The Toa of Fire gives a breathy cackle: "Do you have any idea how many funerary rites they have? There's at least three for each tribe, and those are only the ones Turaga Nuju held for you."

The air grows slightly warmer.

Matoro briefly forgot how to breathe.

He stares intently at the back of Tahu's head, not shy or sheepish anymore, too completely stunned to do much else.

He speaks again at last, voice so faint it's barely a breath: "Why?"

"I told you. You are very loved."

He keeps staring.

Tahu, very pointedly, does not turn to meet his eyes.

Why can't he turn to meet his eyes?

Why can't he just look at his face?

There's an answer of course. A simple, logical answer, an obvious answer, a clear answer, an answer that sits right on the tip of his metaphorical tongue, in the antechamber of his crystal brain, just waiting to be aknowledged.

If only he could find it.

There's still so much light despite being evening.

The seasons on Aqua Magna didn't bring this extreme a change.

Suddenly, 'days becoming longer' doesn't sound as silly as it had seemed when Berix first told them about it.

"He didn't have to," Matoro whispers. "The Turaga didn't have to. He should have been celebrating that Mata Nui had been saved, not mourning me. Not so many times."

The other waits a moment before replying: "He lost a close friend. Maybe he had too much grief to handle it all in just one funeral."

The Ko-Toa looks away.

His hands scrape against the ground he sits on as he tightens them into anxious fists.

"Would you have done it?" he asks: "If it had been you instead of me here, too, would you have done it too? Chosen Mata Nui over your life and your self?"

"Would you?"

"... Yes."

"Me too," Tahu nods - so certain, plowing through the paralyzing terror of death so that it cannot catch up to him until it's too late. "If I'd been in your place and the only options were either me, any of my siblings, or the universe, I would have sacrificed myself. Jaller and Kopaka are good leaders, they'd know how to make sure the rest of you were safe. And you'd have the Turaga too."

"But we wouldn't have you."

"And we wouldn't have you."

"I'd say a traslator isn't really comparable to the leader of the Nuva."

"He would be to the Mahri. And Nuju."

He should turn around. He should look him in the eye and tell him what he's going to tell him while staring directly at him, so that the words get burned into his brain.

Why in Karzhani's name can't he do that?

"I would have fulfilled my duty as a Mata, and nothing else," he speaks, gazing into a mountain he's stopped really seeing Great Spirit knows how long - a while ago by now: "You took it upon yourself to lose everything for the sake of everybody else. When you compare the two, I see no reason why I'd be any more mourned than you."

"Not even by Turaga Vakama?"

What a strange question.

What a really strange question. Is this another parallel he's trying to draw? He doesn't think he could ever be described as anything to Vakama other than his Toa - one of his Toa, one of six.

What a strange question. The most he's brought the Turaga was grief and annoyance, as far as he can remember, because he was hotheaded and stubborn and stuckup. Vakama knew Matoro better than he knew Tahu, arguably. He wouldn't mourn him as inconsolably as Nuju had.

What a strange question.

"It was as if he'd lost Toa Lhikan all over again."

Tahu does not move.

That has to be an exaggeration.

"He could not conclude his speech to the Metru. He could not even meet the Nuva at first. He had hoped his vision really had been just the result of wires crossed wrong, just this once."

Matoro watches him as the heat around Tahu dissipates slowly, as he stiffens like magma cooling into obsidian.

The purple shadows lean further into the finally darkening skies, coming down, down, down the mountains, down the dunes, down the vegetation that dots the landscape, towards the city that stands in-between the sands, as they continue to sit near each other in perfect silence.

[britcision]

Dungeon Meshi omegaverse headcanons because I can

1) the different human folks have different versions and different degrees but we’re gonna focus on the elves because I want to

2) afab alphas and amab omegas are just a thing that happens, it’s pretty normal and not considered worth commenting on unless you’re really insular, so while there are some sexist stereotypes (like that afab alphas are more attentive parents, although not as good as any omega) it’s not on the “male omega bad” side

It’s about 20% of the alpha/omega population (and betas make up about 60% of the human population so 8% of people total), so not hugely common but way more common than red hair and only a little less than being left handed

Some amab omegas can carry children (especially with magical assistance) and it’s actually a little easier for afab alphas to sire children, since that’s a one time output rather than a prolonged physical process

You also get things like secondary sex homosexuality (alpha-for-alpha gay, ditto omegas) which are basically ignored anyway unless someone’s fussing about bloodlines, and difficult cases like alpha-presenting-omega; an omega who reads like an alpha in scent and all other aspects except when they’re on heat

That’s hard to detect before the cycle actually starts and causes rampant excitement every time, but since alphas being with other alphas isn’t considered noteworthy except in high society, it’s also only a problem around the cycle

3) just like they don’t have sexual dimorphism, there’s no visible external differences between elves in secondary sex either

They’re more about magic than physical force, so you might be able to tell the difference based on their magical specialties (that’s how elves claim they do it but it’s bullshit they are lying)

This often confuses other folks who do; tallmen alphas are physically larger and more muscular (Falin’s an alpha) and omegas are smaller and slimmer, but all the elves are small and slim so tallmen often think they’re all omegas this is not helped by

4) almost all the Canaries are omegas; service is a doubly beneficial arrangement for noble families, who offer their children to show their loyalty just like canon… and to keep inconvenient extra bloodlines from cropping up if those extra omegas have kids

All of the wardens are omegas (except possibly Flamela; this is actually another reason why she’s not allowed into dangerous dungeons) and most of the prisoners are too, although occasionally alphas are allowed to serve

This is not considered a risk because while alphas are more aggressive, elves also consider them less capable leaders since they’re more likely to lose their heads and act rashly when riled up (like when Izutsumi was a kobold from the changelings and had to be stopped from fighting til she died) and just generally less capable, so an alpha convict with their magic bound isn’t considered a serious threat to a capable omega warden

Alphas also don’t necessarily fight to the death, since there’s all the posturing and fighting for position

Elf omegas, on the other hand, will tear your fucking throat out at the first sign of violence because if a fight gets to them it needs to be ended immediately to protect the babies

They have absolutely weaponized this against the demon and the dungeons by intentionally putting their omegas in combat situations

Alpha prisoners are usually only assigned to a single warden for the duration of their service, because they tend to get overprotective of their omega squad-mates and don’t handle personnel shifts well

5) The wardens get sterilized as part of their training, the prisoners are required to be on birth control for the duration of their service but can also request sterilization - birth control’s usually by magical implant so it’s not a huge inconvenience but listen if you want that ute yote it’s yoten

6) Heat cycles absolutely do sync up between themselves and with rut cycles, and the squads get mandatory downtime for a month on either side; luckily they’re elves so they’re on multi-annual cycles rather than seasonal

(Elves who find out how often short-lived omegas go into heat tend to react with shock and sympathy and an immediate “ooooh this is why you die so early”)

(More than one squad have accidentally maimed their alpha if they have a surprise heat)

How a squad handles group heat is up to them, suppressants are part of the basic gear, as are knotting toys, and there’s a whole industry of “heat hotels” where any human single omegas can go to ride out a heat safely either alone with toys or with vetted beta staff (on birth control) of their choosing - the Canaries semi-regularly take them over and occasionally incite orgies because while the heat demands a knot what elves accept as dominance is magical power, not position, so the strongest arcanist in a squad usually reads as an “alpha” to other humans despite their actual sexes

And since there’s no actual rules that omegas can’t hook up for a cycle at the heat house, so long as everyone arrives and agrees before they go into heat it’s a “the more the merrier” situation

They also sync up between different types of humans, but elves sync very slowly and have such long cycles almost no one notices

For no godly reason gnomes sync the fastest but they have relatively mild cycles and don’t seem to mind

Fuck it cycle table:

Dwarves - 6 month cycle - 1 week rut/heat

Elves - 2-3 year cycle - 2 weeks rut/heat

Gnomes - 4 month cycle - 5 days rut/heat

Half-foots(feet?) - 2 month cycle - 3 days rut/heat

Oni - 2 month cycle - 5 days rut/heat

Tall-men - 2 month cycle - 5-7 days rut/heat

7) Mithrun’s squad are extra goddamn protective of him because his cycle also got broken and doesn’t sync properly, but he deadass will not notice when he’s on heat and just continues as usual, while radiating pheromones. He also will not take suppressants any more than he’ll drink or eat

Luckily he also almost never actually goes onto heat, so he just vibes and trains while everyone else is on their heat break and occasionally gets impatient and starts bar fights

Lycion’s been a permanent squad member despite not being an alpha (he’s a beta but the werewolf gets a knot anyway sooooo he’s busy on heat breaks) because he can smell when Mithrun’s going onto heat ahead of time, way before anyone else can

Mithrun’s gone into heat twice since rejoining the Canaries. Cithis, Otta, and Fleki bitch about this constantly with varying degrees of envy, right up until the next time it happens out of the blue and they have to drag his dumb ass out of a dungeon because literally no one was prepared

Otta’s not even an omega she’s a beta too so she uses their heat breaks to flirt with half-foot women which is why she has enough time to date despite being a convict death squad member

(And yeah she’ll “help out” any half-foot lady omegas if they’re not actually already in heat when they arrive at a house the squad’s taken over and can hold a conversation first cuz while technically everyone else can still go through their heat alone and ignore the elves…

Well they’re loud, they’re expansive, Fleki is allergic to personal space, even in heat Cithis has enough top energy to dominate a city block, and Lycion only has one knot and will occasionally need to sleep - more than the heated omegas. They like sharing and there are no consequences provided the hotel has a room big enough)

Fleki will absolutely still use her familiar while she’s on heat and she will not remember to tell anyone she’s doing it, but since she basically just flies away until the next wave demands she get fucked again it’s not all that different from taking a nap from anyone else’s perspective

(Flying in heat is nowhere near as good as flying on shrooms but it does still beat reality)

(Everyone. Everyone has asked her if she’s fucked in the bird. Absolutely everyone. And she never specifies but makes absolutely filthy and biologically unlikely insinuations.

She absolutely did try it once. And since her familiar has genitals at her own discretion, and didn’t google bird genitals before hand, results were Mid)

Cithis has been denied access - or have had people attempt to deny her access anyway - to more than one heat house because absolutely no one who is not an elf believes she’s not an alpha without proof

All the elves have Elf Twink Disease so their alphas aren’t buff and macho anyway and everyone knows it, so her sheer Step On Me Please energy has gotten the whole squad into trouble

(She blatantly refuses to do anything about this and will often make the situation worse for fun or profit until Mithrun tells her to stop)

8) half elves like Marcille have the extremely exciting and unfortunate bonus of potentially being crosses in secondary sex too, just like the non-linear aging - something about the long-lived/shorter-lived magic combo and the elves’ own permutations in particular mean that other human-alpha and elf-beta/omega sometimes happen on the same gene, and other human-omega and elf-beta/alpha is also more likely than elf-alpha and other human-alpha coming together

Some half elves get lucky and get double beta, Marcille did not and got beta-omega (which is at least easier than alpha-omega, the rarest combo but hey if you’re flexible or magically inclined with that one you can kinda just go fuck yourself)

This is why she gets super over-protective of the people she cares about (see: get back in the kitchen while I take over the world), but doesn’t really have any kind of self preservation instincts or a desire not to run face first into danger and explode it

She’s never had a heat cycle and if she’s lucky she might never get one, so long as the beta side stays dominant

But Falin’s an alpha and possibly the person who activated Marcille’s omega side to get that over-protectiveness in the first place, so if (when) they do mate Marcille is gonna learn some fun and exciting things about her body

(Toshiro’s an omega, but his family insisted on raising him like an alpha anyway because Oldest Son. Falin was the one to actually tell him he was an omega, because Maizuru was ordered not to

This is part of why he’s so incredibly jealous of Laios, who is an actual alpha as well as autistic as hell, so Shuro’s not only jealous of his complete disregard for social rules, he’s also exceedingly jealous that all of the “alpha” stuff he has to work incredibly hard to fake comes to Laios completely naturally

Laios had no idea Shuro was an omega at all (possibly Nakamoto family scent blockers, possibly Laios Not Paying Attention) and has actually been idolizing Shuro as the Manliest Best Alpha To Ever Alpha - like all them flashbacks of Shuro standing between downed Laios and danger

Maybe Laios doesn’t find out until after Falin’s revived successfully. It blows his mind. Toshiro weeps in frustration.)

9) fuck it it’s official, alpha Flamela, that’s why her twin was taken (twin was an omega, elves still think alphas are too impulsive and hot headed to rule) and Flamela wasn’t stopped from running off to join the Canaries

They did try to skip the sterilizing step with her, cuz while the coal black skin definitively doesn’t reliably pass from parent to child there’s still a chance her kids would have better odds of inheriting it

Flamela lost her shit when she found out she was being treated differently from other wardens (doing other elven alphas absolutely no favours about that “too impulsive” thing because she genuinely didn’t even notice that what was happening was that she wasn’t being given invasive and permanently life altering often nonconsensual surgery) and threatened to do it to herself if they wouldn’t do her

Someone suggested they fake it, put her under, make the cut, leave everything alone so she just got a scar, someone else pointed out she might be slightly less knife happy afterwards, the smartest person in the room pointed out she would be Exceedingly Fucking Knife Happy if she ever found out and possibly kill them all

She was sterilised at her own insistence but her genetic materials (eggs and sperm why not) were stored rather than discarded in case she changes her mind

This has also alienated her from the other wardens because not only is she the only one who actually volunteered to be a Canary, she volunteered for the whole thing and genuinely doesn’t get why any of them are unhappy about it

Rut isn’t all that fun and she doesn’t think heat sounds good either, since her default position with people is distrust and keeping them at arm’s length, so she always rides hers out alone and assumes others will too - but both sound way way way better to her than having to carry or raise a child

She’s not cruel or aggressive about it but she’s about as tactful as a rhinoceros and just gets loudly confused, so it’s not worth trying to confide in her or bond over the extra level of being discarded by their families

(And since she hates gossip and will aggressively curtail it, she only finds out what anyone else on her squad does for heat if she actually has to help arrange it)

She was so offended to find out she’d still have rut cycles after surgery. The one thing absolutely every other warden can agree with her on

Most elf alphas are actually significantly more level headed and stable than Flamela, she still has her entirely independent emotional baggage but she is what all the elven stereotypes say an alpha is

There’s some real world racist bs about Black women and especially darker skinned Black women being less feminine, but it’s bullshit and fuck that it’s illegal here, alpha women are just a thing that happens and it has nothing to do with gender

Flamela’s not especially feminine either by elf standards, but that’s her decision and she is beauty, she is grace, she will stab you in the face and you’d deserve it if you commented

10) communication pixies are affected by their maker’s heat, but not by getting anything similar themselves; it’s an intentional part of the spell, the pixie gets all sleepy and “drunk” and will not connect any calls without a specific code word, because absolutely no one wanted heat-sex pixie butt dials

This isn’t just an elf thing but it is in the elf-magic version of the spell; if you make a pixie with gnome-magic instead there’s a 75% chance it will also go dozy during your heat buuuuut a 25% chance it just keeps going as normal

General consensus is that the ephemeral will of magic either can’t tell when humans go into heat or considers the occasional magic butt dial necessary to the balance of the universe

A lot of older gnomes just plain don’t care about any of it and think it’s a bit funny when anyone else makes such a big fuss, since it’s just another part of life

(If Falin ever makes a pixie you KNOW it stays active during her rut you KNOW Marcille gets a butt dial dear gods is this how the Farcille confession happens in this AU)

11) orcs and kobolds don’t actually have secondary sexes by dint of not being human (wrong number of bones) and tend to consider the whole thing a little weird, but not their problem

Some orcs suspect the whole alpha-omega thing is why humans get violently territorial for basically no reason, and the sympathetic ones tend to be very gentle with someone once they learn they’re an alpha or omega

Big “oh you poor thing that sounds so difficult, let’s make sure you don’t get over excited” energy

———

I’ll add more later if I come up with anything else, but by all means hop into my sand box and play with anything you like!

A bunch of other characters and their alignments in no particular order:

Kabru - beta, but one of his only decent spells is to fake either alpha or omega pheromones at will. He’ll play any of the roles to get what he wants and what he thinks will serve him best

(He almost always plays omega with elves because 1) they don’t respect alphas the way most other humans do and 2) they’re gonna read him as a child anyway, so having specific “adult” pheromones might occasionally sway them to respect him a little more, but they’re also more likely to subconsciously protect him

He tried alpha on Mithrun when they were alone in the dungeon for all of 15 minutes before determining Mithrun couldn’t tell the difference

(Mithrun could he just doesn’t care))

Namari - alpha, works well with usually being the party tank, but as a dwarf her instincts are more “provide for needs” than “fight off enemies” which is why she loves armour and wants other people to wear it

Senshi - omega, he’s going to see the babies fed by any means necessary (but yeah it’s part of why his mining crew didn’t let him fight the griffin, he hadn’t fully hit his second puberty but they Had Suspicions)

However, since he lived alone most of his life (and was surrounded by alphas before that) he presents almost entirely as an alpha, and unless he hits heat no non-dwarfs will ever notice he isn’t

There’s not a huge difference between dwarf alpha, beta, and omegas anyway, but the alphas tend more towards crafts and making or procuring physical items to see to their loved ones’ needs while the omegas are more focused on acts of service

(Physically they’re just all Like That, like the elves)

Every dwarf who has ever met Senshi clocked him as an alpha in the first five minutes, and clocked him equally hard as an omega ten minutes later and had some mild cognitive dissonance. None of them mention it because that’s Rude

Izutsumi - alpha cat, hates you all

Chilchuck - tallest skinniest half foot omega you ever did see. Has adopted his entire union since he doesn’t see his girls anymore. His wife was a beta and the only reason she got them in the “divorce” was the girls had already moved out

(She moved in with Puckpatti)

Chilchuck is constantly low-grade losing his shit about it

Maizuru - omega, deeply dislikes how Toshiro’s father has treated him and does genuinely believe deep down that an omega like Toshiro might be a better leader specifically because he’s more empathic and considerate than their society’s demanded alpha behaviour

She will be miffed to be told the elves agree with her though

Rin - beta, accidentally presents as an omega because she picked it up in self defence while living with the elves. She does not like it but she does tend to keep herself closed off, avoid skin contact, and comes off as trying too hard not to seem meek, so people with opinions on strangers’ sexes assume she’s an omega who escaped a bad situation

(They’re not fully wrong, she hates that they’re not)

Kaka and Kiki - Kaka’s an omega, Kiki’s a beta but she intentionally presents as an alpha to keep anyone from noticing or saying shit about her brother

If she’s loud and noticeable, they won’t wonder why he’s shyer and quiet

(Kaka 1000% imprinted on Namari the first time she saved his life she is his big strong alpha he is a helpless fucking puppy so even though he’s self conscious about his height he can’t help wanting her to like his legs

Unfortunately for him Namari’s gay as hell and Kiki’s extremely into her as well and he wants his twin to be happy so he’ll be pining forever and make do with a familial alpha bond)

(Namari will never know she coulda had her pick)

Mikbell - beta cuck and a scab

Holm - the only actual alpha on Kabru’s team, has definitely noticed him switching up the pheromones and he mostly doesn’t care, he thinks that secondary-sex-fluidity is actually a really good quality in a leader (it shows he respects all of them and acknowledges the strengths they all have)

But when it comes to his sister Nope Nope Nope buster don’t you dare seduce her with some mocked up alpha juice

His sister is also an alpha but she’s alpha-for-alpha gay and gender bisexual and he’s not having it

Daya - omega, but prefers to present as an alpha because she’s actually just not that comfortable with the stereotypical omega “role”

(Again for dwarves, it’s mostly “will do caretaking” over “will procure necessary items”, but her birth clan were heavy traditionalists who considered an omega’s primary job to be “be pregnant” so she’s tossed the whole situation)

(Her partner is an alpha and oh boy did he have to work to prove he was nothing like the boys back home. He’s fully happy to be the caretaker while she brings home the bacon and she loves him for that

Most dwarves will assume he’s the omega unless told otherwise, and they’re both very comfortable with that on the extremely rare occasion that it comes up since Island dwarves usually don’t care anyway)

Kuro - kobold, not his problem, but oh boy he’s adopted Mikbell as his puppy and is gonna do his best taking care of this man

He’s fully aware Mik’s a mature adult (despite how often he pretends to be a kid to fuck with people), he can smell his pheromones, he just believes Mikbell needs a father or at least older brother figure to guide him more than just a buddy

(He and Kabru also suspect Mik might be into non sexual (probably?) age play, since he claims he acts like a kid to fuck over assholes who assume half-foots can’t be real adults, but he does it A Lot and with joy and fervour)

(Mikbell can never learn this)

Grandpa Tansu - cranky lil alpha gnome

Granny Floke - also a lil alpha gnome, they’re also alpha-for-alpha gay, but she likes watching her husband get all loud and up in arms so she doesn’t bother getting involved much

(Full Madame Giry from the good Phantom of the Opera productions, she only has to say one word to put her foot down but she actually is a nice smiling little old lady… which makes it scarier when she does it)

Tade - alpha oni, but in oni omegas and afabs are actually much bigger so she’s still pretty small for an oni (bigger than amab alphas though)

This does tend to confuse pretty much everyone else but those little buggers come out BIG and HORNED and it’s just better all around to have more space for the lil niblets

This is why Marcille’s oni form was head and shoulders too big to be seen standing next to her party she’d’ve been around a foot and a half taller than Tade because I said so

Thistle - oh the saddest most broken lil elf omega, he was in a bad way before Delgal’s dad died and then when Delgal did the “only you can save us we’re all gonna die” Thistle reverse-pioneered the Canaries by going into omega-murder-mode so hard he dungeoned an entire kingdom

And since there was not a single alpha older than him anywhere to be found he just never got to turn that off (if only someone scruffed the little bastard idk if that’s an omegaverse thing but the imagery is peak)

Imma headcanon he never actually had a cycle by dint of not finishing elf-puberty before he went Kingdom In A Bottle and stopped aging but honestly any flavour of fuckery and whenever you think he stopped aging is all good

(Since not only was Yaad born post dungeon, he grew to young adulthood and other people did age, they just didn’t die, so aging was for sure happening for like 20 years post dive)

Winged Lion - the alpha and the omega solely for the joke

If you can think of anyone else or if you have any questions lemme know and I’ll spin something off the dome for ya! (This totally wasn’t prompted by me nearly having the first full chapter of. Something. Ready to go. 👀)

If anyone else wants to chop and screw with any bits of this for any reason go wild and all I ask is a tag in because I like free candy as much as anyone else. Despite Farcille commentary it’s technically ship agnostic because honestly that’s the least interesting part of an omegaverse AU for me I’m here to get weird with sex and gender roles and cultural variance

I haven’t actually played in this sand pit much before so we can all thank/blame Omega Jason Todd week for finally tipping my interest over by giving me new levels of fuckery, we stan a 6’ omega built like a tank

[cool-abed-filmz]

someone should write a fic or lisa’s soul inbetween her death and coming back to life , she reunites with her mom and tells her about victor / the creature and their plan

[haemosexuality]

why are so many adventure time fans just straight up stupid. about how stories work. and i dont even mean kids i mean like adult fans just with the absolutely dumbest takes