#revek asks

[spiritsglade]

for the character ask game i would loooove to hear you go off about essence :))

[character ask game!!]

oh birdie you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent this in didn't you.

My first impression

I think I probably ran into her first in fic but I don't actually remember anything in that regard. First impression with the comic was that this was a character with a pretty design but somewhat... confusing of a storyline.

My impression now

God her canon portrayal is so annoying and inconsistent I SWEAR. Jason and her misunderstanding and misinterpretating what's going on and immediately jumping to kill each other has happened EVERY TIME and what is the point!!! Her backstory and motivations are so opaque and the flashbacks to their time together in the All-Caste keep on dangling the promise of an interesting story in front of me and then not delivering. Lobdell and Tynion IV when I GET YOU--

However I've thought about her too much and now I have brainworms. She is the side character I have adopted as my own. I understand her better than her creators ever will <3 (I have extrapolated a lot of conclusions from like 3 panels out of all her appearances. It is working out for me.)

Favorite thing about that character

The concept for her character. Particularly as a daughter to Ducra and one of the original Untitled. The fact she's been banished from the All-Caste apparently for not being willing to give up her "dark powers" when Ducra did? That's so interesting to me. It could be such a good parallel to how Jason's moral code causes a rift between him and Bruce. Tell me more. Lobdell you will surely explore this further, won't you? Lobdell aren't you gonna-- LOBDELL

Least favorite thing

Can I complain about Lobdell again. I will not. Instead I will complain about how her little like... intro narration box? You know the thing where comics will give you a little line to tell you who a character is if you don't know them already. Hers is that she's the "last human descendant of the All-Caste" which is just WRONG? She is the DAUGHTER OF THE UNTITLED. She is like, objectively not human at this point. JASON is the last human descendant of the All-Caste, maybe. Y'know, the first human they've taken in in over a century and the first in millennia to survive a cleansing? Y'know, that guy?? Also she literally reinstated the All-Caste at this point in the timeline why are we calling her the last human descendant. She's literally they're leader right now. I'm so mad I'm so mad I'msofmkgekmreklgm

Also I really don't like that her Blood Blades draw only the blood of the guilty or whatever like it does to Artemis in RH:O #45. Or the whole capturing souls thing in #35. I hate it I hate it I hate it girl please go back to fighting people with your smoke magic.

Favorite line/scene

I overall think the scene in RH:O #35 was bad but I do particularly like her lines here.

I have never wanted to lead the All-Caste... I am a soldier. Heart and soul.

Oh girl. Girl you are never escaping the legacy of your mother. Ignore the fact that Ducra is literally still alive even though we established that she died in the first issue and her ghost vanished back in RHatO v1 #27 I'm not mad.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Her fight with Kori in RHatO v1 #22

I think using Tamaranean tech like this is very clever!! Essence is immortal, ancient, and very powerful, but alien tech was also a weakness for her back in Issue #7 and I think that's a nice touch.

Also the fact that Kori literally summoned her to try to talk and help Jason and they end up trying to kill each other for several pages is so funny to me. Like. In the next volume Essence also fights Artemis and possesses Isabel like... girl are you jealous that he's seeing other women? Is that what this is?

I think the thing with the amnesia arc where all of Jason's friends were trying to help him from different angles and with incomplete information and in the process fucked over each other's attempts forever could have been really interesting if written well.

Close runner-up:

Right before this Essence says:

We need to talk, Mother. About the great darkness that looms over all that lives. About a mistake you must at long last rectify.

It's giving the "I think we're gonna have to kill that guy" meme to me. And that was entertaining. These are the depths I need to sink to find hope.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

ISABEL ARDILA. Genuinely fucking impressive that Lobdell managed to write them literally sharing the same body and have them not interact at all. I don't even know how he did it. He deserves an award. How does Isabel feel about this arrangement? How does Essence feel?? Like Issy you chose on purpose to pick up the sword again and keep letting Essence use your body in RH:O #49. Let's talk about that--no we're not going to? We have to move on and do Duela's arc and Red Hood: The Hill now? Oh. Oh okay. That's fine then.

Anyway I think they could turn the bodysharing into a beautiful symbiotic relationship if they tried. Essence/Isabel as a ship is slept on I swear.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Jerboa III/Boa from Wings of Fire. Her mother (Jerboa I) was an animus (basically a dragon that can do whatever magic except raise the dead) who created her and then basically kept editing her personality and existence for like 2,000 years so she could have the ideal daughter. Obviously this is very fucked up. Eventually Boa catches onto this, betrays Jerboa I and kills her, but not before Jerboa I curses her. We don't talk about what happened to Jerboa II. (We know that she "went wrong" and Jerboa I "disposed of" her.)

Do you see the vision. Ducra implanting "pure life" in Essence's body. Banishing her when Essence railed against what Ducra wanted for her. Essence's entire life being dedicated to this fight against the Untitled. Like we are very much getting into headcanon territory with Essence when I make this connection but Boa manages to escape her mother and also the entire fucked up legacy of animus magic and I think that is lovely for her. Manifesting that for Essence.

She's also Hornet from Hollow Knight just a little bit. To me.

A headcanon about that character

She is more headcanon than actual canon substance to me at this point. Um. She has mommy issues re: Ducra. Her banishment from the All-Caste was because Essence refused to purge the "dark magic" (The essence of the Well of Sins she carried in her, the bond that tied her to the other Untitled that Ducra had long cleansed from herself.) They'd been having disagreements since the beginning of time that just happened to be what finally made it boil over. I'm still a little vague on this but I think Ducra setting up the All-Caste and the truce with the Untitled had some long term negative consequences for the world (like how in RHatO #5 the Untitled in Middleton, Colorado had the townspeople under its thrall). Essence doesn't want to spend the rest of eternity waiting for the day the Untitled inevitably decide to take over the world, but Ducra is all 'this is your duty' about it. Also remember that the Untitled are Ducra's siblings and Essence's aunts/uncles.

Anyway Jason's admittance into the All-Caste was the trigger for Essence acting out against Ducra properly for the first time. Him being this fresh new perspective so hellbent on vengeance really helped her realize that she wanted more from her life than to be another soldier in Ducra's war against her siblings.

Do you see the parallels I'm shoving in here between her and Jason. I am just saying.

A song that reminds of that character

Alas I must expose myself as a non-music listener. I'm sorry. Random Gods from the Rain World soundtrack that's the best I can do.

An unpopular opinion about that character

Honestly I don't think anyone cares about her enough for there to be popular opinions but uhh. I think this panel is incorrect about her and Jason's relationship.

Boy and girl are always there for each other.

Are they? Are they??? God I wish they were. Goddammit.

Anyway. I think Essence building the All-Caste was actually the most boring fucking direction to take her character but I can't even be that mad because she was barely a coherent character to begin with. However, her recruiting for the All-Caste... where the fuck is she gonna get these recruits for this secret old as time warrior monk sect?? Why exist at all when all the Untitled are allegedly wiped out (i.e. the entire reason the All-Caste existed in the first place)?? Escape from the shadow of your family's legacy come onnn Essence you can do it I believe in you!!! AUGH.

Favorite picture

Shoutout to RH:O #35 for having some really pretty panels of her.

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOLKS. If you actually read all of my inane ramblings, um. Thanks! I'm normal about Essence.

[farolero-posting]

I DONT GET A SPECIAL ENDING FOR RETURN THE SUN???

nooooope, not really.

The only sad part of getting that ending as your first is that you xan open the game and find the empty room as many times as you want.

Oh, and it doesn't fix the squares.

BUt yeah the normal runs dont have that much variation, and memory runs just replicate that.

Fun fact! the track that plays when you return home is called "Thanks for Everything", while the song that plays when you return the sun is "Self-Contained Universe". You can figure out why ;)

[tiger-lily-55555]

ask game! :D

fun fact: Revek's hair is always so fluffy because Jasper does it for him. if he had it his way, it would be dragging on the floor, an absolute mess of knots and leaves and twigs. boy looks like he came out of a fairytale with that hair

Jasper's help would be much appreciated as both my gijinka designs for Beryl and Brzzz look like they're having a bad hair day.

For Beryl it's because he forgets/doesn't bother to properly comb it out most days, and for Brzzz its because they've been using their buzzsaw to cut their hair anytime it gets too long, along with a near-constant case of helmet hair.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI , Part VII , Part VIII

Summary: despite your last encounter with Vi, you still hope that she shows up at celebration party. And she does.

Warnings/themes : fluff, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, smut , swearing,explicit content

Word cound : 5.4k

“Look at you,” Revek greeted, his voice dripping with mockery as you stepped into the bar. His arms were crossed, an insufferable grin plastered across his face. “Never seen you like this before. Got a date or somethin’?”

“Shut up, old man,” you muttered, punching him in the shoulder—not too hard, but enough to make him wince and rub at it. “You’re the one who told me to dress up. Practically held a gun to my head about it.” Your boots echoed against the floor as you took in the place.

The bar looked… different. Not massively, but enough. Dusty garlands hung precariously over the windows, and mismatched string lights blinked lazily, casting warm yellow pools of light on the sticky bar top. The faint smell of cheap cider hung in the air. Revek tried. You had to give him that.

“It’s… nice,” you admitted with a small smile, tilting your head as you walked toward the bar. “Real festive, Rev.”

“Glad you noticed,” he said, stepping closer with a smug look. “By the way,” he added, leaning on the counter like he was about to drop some grand revelation, “I hired someone else to bartend tonight. Y’know, so you can loosen up a bit.”

You blinked, instantly suspicious. “Loosen up?” you repeated, frowning as your brows knit together. “I’m fine. I don’t need to loosen up, I can handle working and celebrating whatever this whole…”—you gestured vaguely around—“…thing is.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper.” His grin widened. “What if Vi shows up?”

The air instantly felt heavier. Her name hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you froze. That single name was enough to make your mind spin. Vi. Her. Last night flashed through your thoughts in an instant, every maddening, conflicting piece of it. The way her voice cracked when she finally opened up to you. How her words, her story, intertwined with yours so unexpectedly. Her touch. God, her touch—the warmth of her fingers sliding against your own, the way her hand lingered just a moment longer than it needed to.

But then, like cold water crashing down, the rest of it hit you: her fists, the sting of her slap, her cruel words cutting deep. Those same beautiful, icy blue eyes that stared you down like you were nothing…

No. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about her like that again. She wasn’t worth it.

“She’ll probably show up with some new date,” you mumbled bitterly, trying to shove the thoughts away. You leaned over the bar, grabbing a glass to wipe down just to give your hands something to do. “She always has some company, so don’t worry about it.”

Revek’s smirk didn’t fade. He saw through you, and you hated it. “Uh-huh,” he said knowingly. “Don’t tell me you two finally had a civil conversation for once.”

“Something like that,” you muttered, focusing intently on the glass in your hand as though your life depended on it. “Found her passed out outside my apartment. Turns out, she lives right below me. Great, right?” You let out a dry laugh and glanced at him. “Had to drag her to her place. And before you ask—nothing happened. We just talked for like, five seconds, and I left. Same old story.”

“Sure.” He wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “And now you’re dressed to kill, looking like you’re waiting for someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “I hope she doesn’t show up,” you muttered under your breath. But you knew it was a lie.

That tight feeling in your chest didn’t go away. You didn’t dress up for anyone—except maybe her. The way your heart had leapt at the thought of her walking in, the flicker of anticipation you felt just imagining her stepping through that door… it was maddening. That’s why you put on your best dress. That’s why you walked past her window before coming here, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, though you’d never admit it.

You wanted her here. More than anything, you wanted her to show up. And that was terrifying.

The night dragged on. The bar was packed, buzzing with life. Laughter echoed through the room, glasses clinked together, and people danced to the lively beat of the old jukebox in the corner. It was the kind of chaos that most people thrived on, but you didn’t. Not tonight. You sat on the barstool, swirling the amber liquid in your glass, feeling utterly out of place. Revek had banned you from working tonight—said something about letting you have “fun for once,” though it felt more like punishment than a gift. You were pissed at him, sure, but you couldn’t deny that the atmosphere was… kind of nice. People were happy. You could see it on their flushed, carefree faces as they danced, as they laughed, as they forgot about whatever weighed them down outside these walls. Part of you was happy for them. Really. But the other part? The restless, uneasy part of you? That part was waiting.

For her.

Every time the door creaked open, your heart jumped in your chest. Was it her? The answer was always no. Someone else walked in—a group of girls, a couple, even Revek stepping out for a smoke. But not her.

She wasn’t coming.

By your third drink, the dull ache in your chest wouldn’t leave you alone. You couldn’t blame her for not showing up, could you? You had ruined what could’ve been a real, honest moment between the two of you. You bolted, like the damn coward you were. The memory of her soft voice, her vulnerability, it twisted something inside you. You weren’t used to seeing that side of her.It had shaken you in ways you didn’t want to admit. But she didn’t owe you anything. Least of all her presence tonight. You tilted your glass to your lips, taking another slow sip. That’s when he showed up.

A tall, gangly guy in a too-tight shirt, already unbuttoned enough to show a bit more chest hair than you ever wanted to see. His steps were wobbly, his eyes glassy with a drunk sort of hunger, and you instantly knew what he wanted.

“Looks like you’d enjoy some company,” he slurred as he leaned far too close, his sour breath making you wince. “It’s a shame a beautiful girl like you’s sitting all by herself. Someone’s gotta fix that.”

“No, thanks,” you said quickly, your voice cool and dismissive. You turned your attention back to your drink, hoping he’d take the hint. But of course, he didn’t.

“Aw, c’mon,” he chuckled, moving closer. Too close. The stool creaked as you shifted away, only for him to follow like a bad shadow. “Don’t play hard to get.”

“I’m not playing,” you snapped, setting your drink down and standing up, forcing him back with a small shove. “I said go away.”

He smirked at your resistance like it was some kind of game. “Don’t be like that, pretty face. Let’s dance. Shake off that sad little mood of yours.”

You gripped your glass tighter, your fingers trembling as you debated throwing it right in his smug face. You were seconds away from following through when you felt it: a soft hand sliding around your waist, a presence so sudden and so familiar that it made your breath hitch.

“She’s not alone,” a voice cut in, steady and firm. “She’s with me.”

You froze. That voice. Her voice.

The stranger backed off slightly, his smugness faltering, but you couldn’t move. Slowly, you turned your head, and there she was.

Vi.

Her grip on your waist tightened just slightly, pulling you closer into her, almost as if she were staking some kind of claim. Her touch was warm, grounding. The fire in those icy blue eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before.The guy stammered something under his breath—an excuse or an apology, maybe—but you didn’t hear it. You didn’t care. Vi didn’t either, her gaze locking onto yours now that he was backing away.

“Vi,” you whispered, her name catching in your throat.

“Hey,” she said softly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her hand lingered on your waist a moment longer before falling away, though you could still feel the warmth it left behind.

“you came, why?” you stammered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bar around you.

She raised a brow, that infuriatingly cocky smirk making a brief appearance. “What do you think? Making sure no one harasses you,” she teased lightly, before her voice softened. “And… maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest, but you tried to play it cool. “I didn't need your help" you brushed her comment off " and you could’ve shown up earlier,” you said, your voice lacking the bite you were hoping for.

“I could’ve,” she admitted, her smirk fading, replaced by something more sincere. “But I didn’t know if I’d be welcome after… you know.”

You bit your lip, suddenly remembering every conflicting emotion from last night. The way you ran, the things she said, the feelings she stirred in you—all of it swirled in your mind like a storm.

And yet… here she was.

“Well,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face to give yourself something to do, “you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice low and steady, her gaze not leaving yours for a second. “I am.”

The rest of the bar faded away, the music, the noise, the people—it was all background to the way Vi looked at you just then, and for the first time that night, you didn’t care about anything else. She finally let you go, her hand lingering for just a second longer than it needed to, like neither of you really wanted the moment to end. But now that it did, an awkward silence filled the space between you. After everything that had happened yesterday, neither of you knew how to break it. The air was heavy with too many unspoken emotions swirling in the space between you two. You glanced at her, and she glanced at you, both searching for something, anything, to say.

“Uh, want some?” you blurted, grabbing your glass and holding it out toward her. It was the first thing that popped into your head, and you instantly regretted how awkward it sounded.

Vi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, I’m good this time,” she said, her voice lighter than you’d expected.

You blinked. That answer surprised you. She was always the one with a drink in her hand, always ordering another round, always numbing whatever storm brewed inside her. Sober Vi? That was new. And it threw you off a little, mostly because you didn’t know how to handle her like this. But, in some strange way, it made you feel lighter, too. After everything she’d said to you yesterday—how she’d opened up in ways that shocked you—it was as if she didn’t need to hide from herself right now. And maybe, just maybe, that was because of you. Your chest tightened at the thought. Maybe you weren’t as terrible for her as you sometimes felt. Maybe, like her, you were chasing off her demons just as she was chasing off yours. That realization felt… nice.

“Listen,” you started, your voice tentative as you set your glass down. You hesitated, catching her eyes before continuing. “About yesterday…”

Vi looked up at you, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours in that way that made the rest of the world disappear. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft. She stepped just a little closer, giving you her full attention.

“I was just…” you trailed off, taking another sip of your drink. The words felt stuck in your throat. What were you even trying to say? That she scared you? That you didn’t know how to handle whatever was happening between you? That you wanted her close, but the thought of it terrified you just as much as it excited you? You swallowed hard and looked at her again, your voice quiet as you said, “I got scared.”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

Her voice was calm, understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “It scares you,” she said, her words slow, deliberate. “This… whatever this is.” She motioned between you two, her own gaze faltering for a moment before she met yours again.

Her smile faded slightly, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. “It scares me too,” she admitted. “After going through so much shit, being close to someone—anyone—scares the hell out of me. I don’t want it. I tell myself that, over and over. Because there’s always a chance…” She took a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, fidgeting for a second. “There’s always a chance it’ll end badly. Just like it always does.”

Her words struck a chord deep inside you. You didn’t interrupt, didn’t dare speak, as she continued.

“I wasn’t even going to come tonight,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I told myself I shouldn’t. That it was better if I didn’t. That maybe it’d hurt less if I stayed away.”

You felt your heart sink at those words, but then she looked back up at you, and there was something fierce in her eyes—a softness, yes, but also resolve.

“But I’m here,” she said simply. “I’m here because… I wanted to see you.” She stepped closer now, the space between you two growing impossibly small. “Even if it scares me, even if it’s probably the worst idea in the world… I still wanted to see you.”

Her words sent a warmth spreading through you, one you didn’t know what to do with. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Every single thing she’d said described exactly how you felt. She put into words what you couldn’t. The fear, the vulnerability, the way you didn’t want to let her in but couldn’t stand the thought of her not being there.You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but all you could focus on was how close she was now, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. Her eyes softened, like she could sense your struggle.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, and for once, she didn’t seem like the brash, bold version of Vi that you were used to. She was just Vi—raw and human and real. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The words hung there between you, the silence no longer awkward, but instead filled with something… more.You wanted to reach out. Wanted to touch her hand or tell her that you understood, that you felt it too. That it scared you just as much, but damn it, you couldn’t imagine not trying, not when she was standing here, looking at you like that. But instead, you stayed frozen, your heart pounding as you just stared at her, the words trapped in your chest.

And for the first time, the noise in your mind—the constant whirlwind of doubt and fear and second-guessing—was quiet. Completely quiet. All that was left was her.

“Wanna dance?”Your voice cut through the hum of the crowd, soft but certain. She turned to you, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and curiosity.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” she replied, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Neither am I,” you admitted, but that didn’t stop you. Reaching out, you took her hand, warm and steady in yours, and led her toward the crowded dance floor. Blue lights flickered across the room, casting shadows and highlights on her face as laughter and music filled the air. Turning to face her, you stepped closer, letting the beat guide your movements. You weren’t trying to impress anyone; you just wanted to feel her presence, the magnetic pull between you both. At first, she hesitated, but within seconds, she was moving with you, her rhythm syncing effortlessly with yours.

And suddenly, it was like the world around you faded. The voices, the lights, the sea of people—they all melted into the background. It was just you and her, tangled in the moment, caught in something unspoken but undeniably real. You found yourself stepping even closer, your hands sliding up to rest lightly on her shoulders. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second, and you took the chance to really see her. The way her hair framed her face like it was painted to perfection, the faint freckles scattered across her nose, the sharp, deep blue of her eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies. And then, your gaze fell to her lips—soft, inviting, impossibly tempting. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself against the overwhelming urge to close the distance. The music shifted, one song blending seamlessly into the next, but you didn’t care. She was your only focus, the center of your universe in that moment.Then, without a word, her hand rose, brushing gently against your cheek. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, as though she was afraid to cross a line. Her eyes locked on yours, searching, reading you like an open book. She must have known—she must have seen the fear you carried, the uncertainty of being this close to someone.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, so quietly it felt like a secret meant only for you. Her voice was steady, but her expression was something else entirely—vulnerable, open, like she was baring a part of herself she rarely let anyone see.

The words hit you harder than they should have, and for a moment, all you could do was look at her. You wanted to say something, anything, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you smiled—a small, shaky thing that spoke more than words ever could—and leaned forward, letting your forehead rest gently against hers. Your hands slid down, settling lightly at her waist, and you felt her body relax under your touch. Slowly, carefully, you leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. Her body was strong beneath you, her presence grounding, and you let yourself melt into her. She smelled faintly of something warm and familiar, like the promise of comfort, and the scent wrapped around you, making the rest of the world fade even further.You closed your eyes, letting your nose graze the curve of her neck, and you felt her shiver—just barely—under your touch. She didn’t pull away, though. Instead, her arms came around you, holding you closer, her touch firm but tender. It was like she knew exactly what you needed, without you ever having to ask.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about the past or worrying about the future. You weren’t scared of the intimacy, the closeness that always felt too much to handle. You were just… here. With her.

You didn’t know how long you’d been like this—standing so close, barely breathing, lost in the rhythm of each other—but eventually, you noticed the dwindling number of people around you. The once-lively bar had grown quiet, its energy now muted as the night crept toward its end.

“Looks like we got carried away,” you mumbled, letting out a soft chuckle, your voice breaking the silence between you.

“You think so?” she teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She laughed, her voice low and husky, as you turned around to see Revek tidying up the last remnants of the night.

“One second,” you murmured to Vi, reluctant to let the moment slip away but making your way over to the big man behind the bar.

“Hey, big guy,” you said with a smile.

“Well, hello there,” he replied, smirking. “Had a good time?” he added , already knowing the answer

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a few empty glasses to help him clean. “It’s late. You should go home, rest for a bit. You’ve done all of this alone. The least I can do is help,” you said earnestly, offering him a warm smile.

“Ah, don’t worry about me,” he replied, his gaze flicking to Vi. “Looks like you’ve got better things to do right now.”

Vi must have overheard because she stepped closer, crossing her arms with that cocky smirk of hers. “I can help,” she said, her voice light. “Consider it my apology for almost killing some random asshole in your bar.”

Revek let out a genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking. “Well, if you two insist,” he said, putting down the cups he’d been holding, “I could use a bit of rest.”

With that, Vi joined you, grabbing chairs and setting them back in place. The minutes ticked by, and before long, the bar was empty, quiet—just the two of you left alone in the stillness.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you wiped down one of the tables.

“It was just an excuse to stay longer with you,” she admitted, her smirk widening as she went back to stacking chairs.

“So, you’re telling me you’re not sorry for almost killing that guy?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really. He deserved it,” she muttered.

Your gaze fell on the pink liquor bottle sitting innocently on the table. Its soft glow in the dim light pulled a sad smile from your lips. It was one of those small, unassuming moments that carried the weight of a memory, and Vi, being Vi, noticed it immediately. Her sharp eyes softened as she stepped closer, tilting her head slightly.

“What is it?” she asked gently, her voice low and cautious, like she already knew it wasn’t something light.You blinked, startled out of your thoughts by her question. For a moment, you debated brushing it off, but something about the way she looked at you—steady, patient—made you let out a small sigh.

“Um…” you began, your voice shaky as you tried to find the words. “I just remembered something.” You paused, glancing at her before returning your gaze to the bottle. “My mom used to buy this same liquor. She loved it. Every weekend, she’d pour herself a glass or two.”

Vi stepped closer, her expression unreadable but her presence grounding. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t press, just listened.

“My brother, sister, and I always wanted to taste it so bad,” you continued, a faint, bittersweet smile curling your lips. “It looked so… magical. Like it had to taste as amazing as it looked. But, of course, Mom never let us have any.” You chuckled softly, the sound trembling just enough for Vi to hear the cracks underneath it. She leaned in slightly, her hand brushing the edge of the table, her body language pulling you closer without a word. “One time,” you said, the memory blooming fresh in your mind, “after she fell asleep, we made this grand plan to sneak into the kitchen and steal it.” You smiled, the edges of your lips trembling as you spoke. “We got it—three of us, crammed behind the sofa, passing around one cup. We were so excited.” Your voice softened, your gaze falling to your hands as if they still held that cup. “It tasted awful.” You laughed again, this time with a little more warmth. “But none of us wanted to admit it. We were too proud, too happy that we’d finally gotten our hands on Mom’s ‘magic liquor.’”

Vi’s eyes never left you, her expression unreadable but heavy with something that felt like understanding. She stepped closer, now only inches from you, her presence steady and grounding. Her voice was quieter now, softer, like she didn’t want to disturb the fragility of the moment.

“What happened to them?” she asked, the sincerity in her tone cutting through the air like a blade.

The smile on your face faltered, cracking under the weight of the question. You hesitated, your lips parting but no words coming out at first. Finally, you forced yourself to meet her gaze, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My mom and sister… they’re gone. Dead.” You swallowed hard, the word catching in your throat. “As for my brother…” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “He left one day. Said he needed to ‘find himself.’ Never came back.” Your eyes flicked back to hers, raw and unfiltered. “Maybe he’s dead, too. I have no fucking clue.”

Vi stepped even closer, her body brushing against yours now. Her hand came up, hesitating for a moment before gently tilting your chin so you couldn’t look away. Her touch was careful, like she was afraid you might shatter. Her gaze locked onto yours, deep and unrelenting, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

Her eyes flicked to your lips, lingering just long enough for you to notice. The air between you thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. Her presence was so comforting, so overwhelming, it made your chest ache. You hated it—the way she made you feel safe, the way she made you want something you’d sworn off. It terrified you.

And yet, you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Her hands found your waist, her grip firm but so incredibly gentle as she pulled you closer. The gap between you vanished, and you felt her breath on your lips, warm and unsteady. Her eyes searched yours, asking silently for permission, but you were already gone.

"Just this one time , never again" you thought to yourself.

Her lips met yours softly at first, brushing against them in a way that was almost hesitant, like she was testing the waters. The warmth of her mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but lean into her, letting your hands find their way to her shoulders. The kiss deepened slowly, her lips molding to yours with a tenderness that made your heart race. It was like she was teasing you, coaxing you to want more, and, it worked. A soft moan slipped from your lips as her hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers tangled in her messy pink hair, tugging gently, and she let out a low groan that sent heat pooling in your stomach. The kiss turned hungrier, more desperate, as her tongue brushed against yours, and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into her. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face like she was memorizing every detail. Her lipstick was smudged, her breathing heavy, and that damn smirk of hers—it drove you insane.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, like the words had slipped out before she could stop them.

Her lips found yours again, stealing whatever reply you might’ve had. Her hands slid lower, gripping your waist as she guided to the bar , turning you , bending you over. Every movement, every touch, was so intentional, so consuming, it made your head spin. Her lips trailed down the back of your neck, her kisses slow and deliberate, sending waves of heat through your body. Her hands slid up your thighs, slipping under your dress as her fingers found the edge of your panties.

"You sound desperate," she mocked, her breath warm against your ear, the teasing tone sending shivers cascading down your spine. Her lips barely grazed your skin, and you groaned, half out of frustration and half from the building tension, before reaching up and gripping her wrist. With a quick motion, you spun her around, reversing your positions with a confidence you weren’t sure you even possessed. She smirked, clearly impressed, but her smirk faltered when your hands slipped beneath her shirt. You lifted the tank top slowly, savoring the way the fabric revealed inch after inch of her toned body. When it was gone, you discarded it carelessly, leaving her gloriously bare from the waist up. Your eyes roamed her figure, drinking in every detail. Her tattoos wound across her skin like artful stories, the dark ink contrasting with the golden hue of her muscles. Your gaze lingered on her breasts, the perfect curve of them, the way her nipples hardened under your attention.

She chuckled softly, but the way her chest rose and fell betrayed how your words affected her. You leaned in, placing featherlight kisses along her neck. She tilted her head, giving you full access, her breathing hitching when your lips began their slow descent. Your tongue traced the line of her collarbone before you stopped at her nipple, flicking it gently with the tip. Her gasp was sharp, her hands flying to your shoulders as if to steady herself. You didn’t stop. Your lips closed around the sensitive peak, sucking gently before swirling your tongue over it. Her moans filled the room, her head falling back as her body pressed closer to yours, seeking more. She was utterly at your mercy, and you reveled in it. Just as her breathing turned ragged, you pulled back, your lips hovering mere millimeters from hers. She leaned in for a kiss, but you smirked and pulled away.

"And who’s desperate now?" you whispered, your voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Suddenly, her strong hands gripped your waist. Effortlessly, she hoisted you off the floor like you weighed nothing. A surprised laugh escaped you, but it was cut short when she placed you down on the edge of the bar stool. Her piercing gaze locked onto yours as she slid her hands along your thighs, hiking your dress up to your hips in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, and a shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling low in your stomach. Without a word, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, the slow drag of fabric against your skin making your breath hitch.

“You’re dripping for me already,” she teased, her voice low and husky.

Before you could retort, she dropped to her knees, her hands spreading your thighs apart. Her eyes stayed locked on yours as she leaned in, the warmth of her breath making your core tighten. When her tongue finally flicked over you, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. She worked slowly at first, her tongue sliding through your folds. She circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm, before pulling away slightly to kiss the sensitive skin around it.

“Vi…” you whimpered, your hands tangling in her short hair, pulling her closer. She hummed in response, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

She buried her face deeper, her tongue lapping at you with unrelenting intensity. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as your hips bucked involuntarily. She alternated between slow, teasing flicks of her tongue and firm, languid strokes that had you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“You taste so fucking good,” she groaned against you, the words sending another wave of heat pooling in your core. Her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before she slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right. Your back arched off the stool, a cry escaping your throat as the pressure built, her fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony.

“Oh, fuck—Vi, I’m—” you tried to warn her, but your words dissolved into a broken moan as the orgasm tore through you. Your thighs trembled around her head, and your vision blurred as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless. She didn’t stop, her movements slowing to help you ride out the high until you were left quivering and utterly spent.

She finally pulled away, her lips and chin glistening as she looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. She stood up, planting passionate kiss on your lips . Groaning, you pulled her even closer , as you tasted youself on her soft lips. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, a loud banging echoed through the bar doors, shattering the moment.

Both of you froze, your eyes meeting in shared surprise and frustration. “Guess we’re not alone anymore,” she muttered, standing and grabbing her tank top. But that mischievous glint in her eye told you this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Author note: Ahhhhhh !!! i can't with these two I love them too much ! it was my first time writing smut please spare me!! did you like it? do you like where story is going? please let me know!!

[indieblueart]

Slugcation (slug vacation!)

Character credit under the cut

Bonnet: @ambassador-blip

Bananacat: @pansear-doodles

The Herbalist: GroveRelic

Alrik, Li, Glowurm: FluffyMothballs

The Courier (+ Snacks); @gloucester-carousel

Aequill: BlasphemyTheeWorm

Strawberry: Corvin-Ito

The Beetlecat: @FrigidCoast

The Revenant: Artist

Seita + Sploinky: LunaCantSpell

Perforator: @mossyflowers

The Mescaline: DD3182

The Abyssal: _Petri

The Fluffball: Sloine

The Wavemaster: @passsionfish

The Muldoze: Dava

Battery Acid: @zeooo-q

Bittersweet: @ayipdoodles

Calder: aryinewoul

The Guide (and co.): @focshi

Yellowleap: H2so4

Flicker + Nettle: @north-winds1

The Preserver: Sugaryveins

The Galaxy: @reveks

Orange + Iridescent: seyriix

Jetcat: Hammy4463

The Bounty Hunter: @grapejuicedragoon

The Gardener + The Firestarter: @caranoelle

The Seafarer: SolarXeno

The Siren: Bluemauller

The Aquatic: Boba_theartist

The Sticker: DiamondzQwQ

The Jolly: @gargecko

The Coward: MarineLaChatto

Dummy: Sadness_Factory

The Caustic + The Bluff: Whispurr

The Chimera: Lakewaltz

The Ruse + The Sightseer: The-Dictators-March

Popcorn: avisqon

Lush: @buggleburger

The Wader: @hiroshotreplica

The Clairvoyant: kaarne

TBN: fiznoodles

404: Waspbee

Sun Shade: @oleandy

The Fool: @stimming4dayz

The Marked: MxZepix

Kip: @dexaroth

Dragon Slayer: @slink-a-dink

The Chimera, the Merchant, The Prophet, The Guard, The Aviator: @ask-sparkling-sea AKA me!!

[birdiedoesdc]

hi :] would love to know what was going on in your brain when you wrote this part of watch your back, now i'm biting. also very interested in hearing what you were planning with this au in general!

----

“—just weird for me,” Steph’s saying. “Like, I don’t even know why he picked me—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason says, sounding baffled. “Don’t get me wrong, Steph, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, but you fight like hell. I mean, I got you in the head like three times and you never stayed down for more than a second.”

“But I’m not his kid,” Steph says, very small. It’s times like these Dick remembers that she’s just thirteen. “You’re his kid.”

Jason’s quiet for a second. Dick continues to pretend like he’s rustling through gauze. “Yeah, but if I’m not, you know. In the business anymore, then maybe he doesn’t—“

“That’s dumb,” Steph says plainly. “You’re so dumb. Ninety percent of patrol is what would Jason do.” She does a pretty good impression of Bruce’s voice too. “I’m just a placeholder until you decide to come back—“

“I’m not coming back,” Jason says instantly, cold and hard. Dick winces, just as sore as the day Jason’s still-battered body came back from Ethiopia.

He gets why Jason stepped away. But he wishes Jason was never forced to make the choice at all.

“Then why,” Steph’s saying, voice a little wobbly at the edges. “Does it even matter if I’m Robin?” Jason exhales shakily. Steph goes on. “Be honest. Is it because I’m a girl?”

“No, it’s not because you’re a girl,” Jason says. “Christ, Brown. It’s because—“ He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Steph, for once, seems to have the patience to hear him out. Dick’s gripping the edge of the cabinet waiting for his answer. Finally, Jason huffs and says, “Because I can’t help but I think they’re gonna end up picking you. And I’m gonna end up—back where I started.”

“What,” Steph says. “You think I’m not scared of the exact same thing?”

HIHIHI REVEK thank you for the ask!!!!

(pick a short passage i've written and stick it in my inbox for dvd commentary!!)

(also the fic i'm commentating on is here!!)

i think the jason and steph dynamic is so so deeply underrated. every time they show up in a comic being nice to each other and buddies i am incredibly overjoyed. i think they're very similar to each other, both in terms of background and overall outlook. i think they both can connect on the immediate level of being quote-unquote "failed" robins. i also think it's clear that while stephanie doesn't personally jive with jason's whole murder thing, she understands why he does it and what impact it can have and has a lot of sympathy for him, in general. jason, in turn, respects a lot of what steph's been through and is willing to listen to her when she tells him he's being a big dumb idiot. they're friends!! there's a lot they're equipped to understand about each other!! i could go on!!!!!!

HOWEVER. when two people are very similar, they can also clash very awfully. especially when they're in stressful situations, like jason trying to figure out who he is without robin and steph trying to figure who she is as robin. hence the fight to the death.

im putting this under a readmore bc i have the feeling i'm about to get even chattier lmaoooo

“—just weird for me,” Steph’s saying. “Like, I don’t even know why he picked me—“

and here we see the first hint of their complementary insecurities!! in part because of their background and in part because of their warped view of their own capabilities. neither of them believe robin is within their grasp. they both believe they have to constantly be reaching up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason says, sounding baffled. “Don’t get me wrong, Steph, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, but you fight like hell. I mean, I got you in the head like three times and you never stayed down for more than a second.”

my only comments are one: steph would and two: i think it's very in-character for jason to be like you're annoying as hell and i hate you and everything you stand for. but i respect what you're about. game recognizes game.

“But I’m not his kid,” Steph says, very small. It’s times like these Dick remembers that she’s just thirteen. “You’re his kid.” Jason’s quiet for a second. Dick continues to pretend like he’s rustling through gauze. “Yeah, but if I’m not, you know. In the business anymore, then maybe he doesn’t—“ “That’s dumb,” Steph says plainly. “You’re so dumb. Ninety percent of patrol is what would Jason do.” She does a pretty good impression of Bruce’s voice too. “I’m just a placeholder until you decide to come back—“ “I’m not coming back,” Jason says instantly, cold and hard.

the first thing to note is that i've sort of gone back and forth on whether or not steph could hypothetically get actually adopted in this au. on the one hand, she's more or less taking over tim's role, so it's possible. on the other hand--and this is paraphrasing something @little-boats-on-a-lake said when i was infodumping to them about it--a lot of steph's character/tragedy is that she's not adopted. that she's always sort of on the outskirts. (just like jason!!) i haven't come to any firm conclusions re: the adoption thing, but either way, at this point steph would not consider herself a part of the wayne family disaster.

also, jason's ongoing insecurity about his role in the family now that he's not robin!! and steph's ongoing insecurity that she really is just a temporary replacement!!

Dick winces, just as sore as the day Jason’s still-battered body came back from Ethiopia. He gets why Jason stepped away. But he wishes Jason was never forced to make the choice at all.

the guilt dick carries over the whole robin thing is crazy.

also, there's something about jason being so insecure about how he fits into his family without robin, but still somehow choosing to put himself and his health first. i think that's very brave of him.

“Then why,” Steph’s saying, voice a little wobbly at the edges. “Does it even matter if I’m Robin?” Jason exhales shakily. Steph goes on. “Be honest. Is it because I’m a girl?” “No, it’s not because you’re a girl,” Jason says.

lol. lmao.

Finally, Jason huffs and says, “Because I can’t help but I think they’re gonna end up picking you. And I’m gonna end up—back where I started.” “What,” Steph says. “You think I’m not scared of the exact same thing?”

complementary insecurities again!!! neither of them want to be left alone. neither of them wants to lose everything they've gained.

anyway!! i think this really clears the air for the both of them because 1.) they actually talked about their emotions and understood that they have a lot of the same problems and 2.) they beat the shit out of each other and worked a lot of the malicious energy out there. after this, i think they start getting along better and better, although they would literally rather die than admit it. beating the shit out of each other took care of the cain instincts, and now they can be normal, only mildly violent bickering siblings.

as for my vague plans for the rest of the au: my next fic for jay todd week is actually set here!! it's tim & jason centric, because this whole thing started with a semi-convoluted thought process that went jason lives after ethiopia and decides not to be robin->tim has no need to be robin because jason isn't dead->jason graduates high school right when he was supposed to->tim isn't distracted by bat nonsense, so he actually graduates high school early->they end up as roommates at college together. it's a whole disaster. and then somewhere in here i thought okay, so steph would be robin then and then i went lol. jason and steph would clash so fucking bad. and i love sibling-on-sibling violence and find it very funny, so the fic happened.

anyway, perhaps someday i will write the multi-chap fic chronicling jason & tim's four years at college together as awful, awful roommates. maybe i'll just keep on writing random, out-of-context one-shots. who is to say!!

my parting thought is that i fucking love the jason-steph dynamic. they are so goddamn important to me, and i think more people should do steph hanging out with jason and maybe even the outlaws because i think they would all have a really great time together and blow a lot of shit up

[inkedover]

🎶✨when u get this, put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, if you're comfortable, send this ask/tag 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool) 🎶✨

Tagged by @reveks

In no particular order:

"A Good Song Never Dies" by Saint Motel

"Fly Me To The Moon" by Frank Sinatra

"Are You Bored Yet?" by Wallows (ft. Clairo)

"Backyard Boy" by Claire Rosinkranz

"Everything Moves" by Bronze Radio Return

the followers: @mizavia @lilydoesdrawsometimes @dangerousskeletoncoptree @peripalz @kelppkel @ling-doodles-draws

[stagbells]

The Ghosts That Haunt Us Still

From: @grollow

To: @reveks

Note: Hi Zye. I know how much you liked 'graves, you see, are for the living.' When I got assigned you, I couldn't resist writing you a sequel. It may not be the cheeriest thing for the season, but something tells me it'll tickle your fancy nevertheless. Happy holidays, friend!

((Sequel to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44721973))

Written work under readmore

The Ghosts That Haunt Us Still

By Rhysa (tumblr user: grollow)

“Someone once told me that graves were for the living,” Revek murmured. “That they were imbued with memories.” He turned toward his companion, a small figure cast in shadow. “And that’s all that I am now, isn’t it? Memories.”

The moth did not look up. She held in her hands a small jar full of lumaflies, dancing brilliant blue and violet. The captives fluttered about and illuminated the glade, though in truth, Revek knew that she needed no such guidance. Long gone were the days when the moths walked in the light of the morning. Night was their constant companion now, and she their shepherd in the dark, the last Seer of her tribe, the last to remember their teachings when history would erase it all.

And the moths themselves would be little more than memories.

Would they, too, get graves?

Would he visit them, as he had during their first meeting?

“You are an echo,” she answered, crouching before one of the stones. It was stained grassy-green along the base and over the top of what was once polished marble, there was a thin layer of grime that indicated that particular marker had not been visited in some time. Seer raised one hand and gently rubbed away the film, the pads of her fingers polishing the long-forgotten stone. “Remnants of the person who Revek once was. His last thoughts, his dreams, unresting. You died with purpose unfulfilled, and essence sees fit to make you real. To give you a chance at letting your regrets fade away.”

Regrets. Did he have any?

In life, his purpose had been to protect the Glade; he’d been tasked with the instruction of preventing anyone from desecrating the markers there. He served that function still, a lingering specter haunting his own grave marker. Was that not his purpose?

“What are your intentions here?”

“To pay respects to the dead. Is that not why everyone visits a mausoleum?”

His tone.

(He’d said his name was Grimm.)

He’d sounded so smug, revealing that the moths would not dream of denying him passage anywhere that he wished. How whimsical and strange that butterfly had been—darting about with ease as if he were not surrounded by monuments to grief, as if he felt nothing at all about the loss that those who buried their own in the soft earth undeniably felt. With poetically cryptic half-truths, he’d flitted to-and-fro; he’d said that he came to pay his respects, but Revek hadn’t seen any stone that Grimm had actually stopped at.

“Do you believe in omens, Seer?” the spider asked, his claws playing along the hilt of his nail. “Signs of what is to come? Your name would certainly suggest that you do.”

She angled one antenna his way, curious, before turning from the stone that she was looking at. The name read ‘Thistlewind.’ It was an old stone, one he recalled seeing even when he was alive.

(But his memories could be obscured by knowledge that he now possessed. He was an echo, after all, the lingering embodiment of unrest—he was a ghost, not the real Revek.

Wasn’t he?)

“Is there a reason that you find yourself curious, restless one?” she asked. The tone of her voice indicated that she knew more than she’d let show. “An answer that you seek?”

He shifted, secondary legs writhing beneath the cloak that he wore. He angled his mask downward. Beneath Seer, there grew rich tangles of clover in place of grass; it folded over onto itself prettily, a mat to cover the resting place of the moth that was buried beneath.

He’d seen Thistlewind before, but never had they spoken.

“Who does Grimm come to the Glade to visit?”

The name spurred a reaction: violet antennae folded downward, and Seer turned away from Revek to walk through the grounds. She dropped a small yellow flower on the top of Thistlewind’s grave, but that was not the only one that Seer decorated. No, each that she passed, she laid a bloom on, though only the moth received yellow—the rest got diminutive white flowers. This was a custom from the elderly moth; he’d seen her participate in this ritual numerous times. It seemed to bring her comfort.

She did not answer him.

“I have opened the doors to the Glade,” Seer said instead. “To allow visitors. The wielder my people seek has arrived, and it will doubtlessly find its way here, to witness those who came before. I would ask you to treat it courteously, my friend. If we are lucky, it will set us both free.”

Revek had never considered himself a captive. His duty was absolute: it persisted through death.

(It wasn’t his duty that bound him to the living world. He knew that. It was the unanswered questions, and the feeling that there was more—far more—to that one encounter.

He’d thought of it often. Dreamt of those scarlet eyes more than once.

He was a ghost, but it was that phantom that haunted him.)

He followed her. It was unnecessary. Seer knew her way around the Glade better, perhaps, than even he did. Her people had built them, and her people would maintain them even when his duty had finished.

(Would it ever be done?

Would he ever be free?

…would he ever see him again?)

Grass and moss hung from branches that jutted out through the canyon walls. Sheets of them braided downward like ropes of color dotting their path, and as they moved to darker portions of the Glade, Seer stopped and unscrewed the lid of her jar. Her hands went up and she held it gently into the air for the captured lumaflies to fly free and fly they did: they wove themselves through the sky in an immaculate performance, like starlight constellations in cool twilight hues, throwing shadows across the stones.

Revek watched them silently.

And Seer, also gazing at them, finally deigned to answer.

“Many have family buried in these lands. The one that you call ‘Grimm’ is no exception to this rule. He comes to grieve for his sister, who is not so much buried here, but symbolically, this place represents her death nevertheless.”

“His sister…?”

He’d vanished. He hadn’t visited any of the stones—though, if it was symbolic, perhaps that was why. Revek fidgeted uncomfortably, though, for the way that she worded her statement suggested that Grimm was not his real name.

(He’d said that it was.)

“He called himself a spiritualist,” Revek murmured. “The one time that we met. I did not know what that meant at the time.”

“He comes back once in a lifetime to this place. But soon more, I expect,” Seer answered. She turned toward him. His mask hid his confusion, he knew, but the way that she regarded him was one of idle amusement. “How fitting, that a ghost would be so interested in a psychopomp.”

“A…what?” Revek asked.

The moth fluttered her wings, and she looked back at the entrance of the Glade in quiet contemplation. She curled her hands along her elbows, tension settling in her wings. There was a quiet distance in her demeanor that he did not fully understand.

“A psychopomp. They are creatures who carry the spirits of the dead from one world to the next. And that is what he is, guardian: a psychopomp, summoned here to carry Hallownest itself away.” She did not sound happy about it. “He makes his lair above, in that sleepy village, but he will not stay there. He’ll come here, and when he does, you can ask him yourself who his sister is—who it is he mourns, and where.”

The moth stepped away and left Revek staring at her wings as she departed. He should have followed her, but the revelation that Grimm was in Hallownest felt like he’d had the oxygen ripped from his lungs.

He’d come back. He’d said that he would, that he did. He’d come back and—

And Revek was dead. The real him didn’t exist anymore.

But he could not shake the warmth that spread through him at her words and the realization of what they meant. That the strange butterfly might come back. That Revek might see him again.

And that maybe… if he was a ‘psychopomp,’ he might find time in his day for a ghost.

“We will see, I think, how sincere your words are. About how memorable you find my eyes.”

[spiritsglade]

also 8, 12, 22, and 26 for Jason!

[character ask game]

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Oh dear. Hard to choose one thing. I think my least favorite is that progression where Jason sees proof that Bruce grieved him -> reconciliation immediately happens. The things Jason is upset about in Under the Hood go deeper than just "Bruce wasn't sad enough when I died :(" and I feel like going with that just... eh. It's not my thing. (Also it generally comes hand in hand with Talia was evilly manipulating him into hating Bruce narratives, which I fundamentally reject.)

Tangentially from this if we're gonna go with a story where Jason is angry about Bruce replacing him with Tim, I want to see Tim go 'no no I figured out his identity and made him make me Robin because he was borderline suicidal and Batman needed a Robin,' I want Jason to react to knowing this information like he did in canon. I want him to be like 'do you really think you figured it out on your own. Bruce doesn't make mistakes like that. He did this on purpose to drag you in.' I'M JUST SAYING, look at what he was saying in Teen Titans #29 (because he somehow knew that Tim figured out Bruce's identity):

You spent weeks tracking the Dark Knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. […] If someone was really trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was trailing him for weeks. He'd know about it. […] He let you find him."

Let Jason (incorrectly) call Tim a lying liar 2k25.

Anyway the writing where Jason is appeased by learning that (1) Tim figured out Batman's identity independently and convinced him to make him Robin, (2) Bruce did try to kill Joker but Superman stopped him, (not what happened in that comic, for the record,) and (3) Dick killed Joker temporarily that one time is just... not very interesting to me. To me, their conflict is not one that can be easily cleaned up by clearing up a couple misconceptions. And I feel like this reading also ignores the much more irreconcilable moral divide between what Jason and Bruce believe these days.

Of course this also ties in with the whole Lazarus Pit Madness headcanon which... I flop around how I feel about it but I don't like most depictions of it.

Speed round other things I don't like:

Making Jason a brawler or someone who acts before he thinks. He is a planner!!! Yes he gets angry and lashes out but let him premeditate the lashing out. He's honed it into something that will hurt the other person the most first.

Jane Austen is not his entire personality let him read other books let him enjoy other media let him have other interests. What happened to his love for Poison Idea.

Replacement <- stupid fucking nickname. Jason can do better.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

IF HE HAS PIT SIDE EFFECTS THEY ARE GOLD COLORED !! I AM A GOLD LAZARUS PIT TRUTHER AND WILL BE UNTIL THE END OF TIME

(ignore every time i've written a fic involving green pit water. i had yet to see the light, then)

I have can't shut up disease about Jason so hang on here's a list.

Hair: Black with white streak. Curly. I am anti-ginger Jason I'm sorry

Eyes: Sheila Haywood blue for the angst of it. Brown is a favorite for aesthetic reasons. Juni Ba white, normal UTRH movie green, and Lazarus Pit gold are acceptable. Lazarus Pit green... thin ice.

Scars: Batarang scar necessary and important he always has it UNLESS specifically fanon Lazarus Pit healing nonsense took it away, in which case the fact that it isn't there makes his mental health even worse. I reject the autopsy scar but I see the appeal of making it a vivisection scar. The J brand/scar on his face I also disagree with.

Lazarus Pit erases scars for me, so vivisection scar also wouldn't exist in my heart.

Jason being unable to die permanently is canon in my heart.

Okay bonus here's a silly headcanon that I think I discussed with you before but: a reading of Jason pre-Pit as a Hollow (a body without a soul,) similar to how Oliver Queen was during Quiver (the first arc of Green Arrow 2001). Since Oliver saw Robin in heaven... just saying. Jason's soul was there.

Jason post-Pit has a soul that the Lazarus Pit fabricated and gave him. Pit Madness episodes are actually just when his new Lazarus Pit soul being imperfect, thus allowing demons to temporarily possess his body. But also sometimes his real soul from before gets his turn with the Xbox. You can play this for comedy. You can play this for angst. I think I'm explaining it bad but I think of this concept often and one day I will do something with it.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Honestly just see my answer for question 8 with regards to what I don't like, that still holds true here.

I like it when he's competent and smart and also when he gets to be a bit of an asshole as a treat. I really enjoy interpretations where he takes care of Crime Alley (I know it's a fanon thing). Him being able to flirt up until he actually likes someone, at which point he will forget every communication skill he has ever gained. His compassion esp for victims is the most important thing ever to me. I like when people remember that he was about two millimeters from blowing Bruce the fuck up in the Batmobile. Him believing in his own code of ethics separate from Bruce is also a very key part of who he is!!

LOVE IMMORTAL + ALL-CASTE + [SELECTIVELY] MUTE JASON TODD HEADCANONS. WRITE THEM MORE.

Okay hang on hot take: I don't really... agree? with how people usually write his death trauma flashbacks. Like I am very much an original Death in the Family comic arc truther with how everything went down there, which means:

He was not tied up. The Joker did not spend hours upon hours torturing him and verbally taunting him. (Sorry I am so sick of reading the words forehand or backhand?) Joker beat him up for like... 20 minutes at the very maximum and it's implied that he didn't even intend to kill Jason.

He was not alone when he died. Sheila was there. Even if you want him to hate Sheila forever and ever I think them dying together is soooo important. He wasn't alone.

Jason was not staring at that countdown. I don't think that would be a trigger for him. Even ignoring the fact that he was in and out of consciousness at that point, he spent those last few seconds launching himself to shield Sheila from the blast. Wasn't looking at the countdown.

Smoke inhalation didn't kill him I don't care what Mortimer Gunt's shitty incorrect death certificate says. It also says that he died in Bristol, Gotham. It also says that he was 4'6" (he was 5'4" according to NTT #55). The explosion murdered the fuck out of him. (The original comic says that his body was already cool when Bruce got there, which is nonsensical, but does imply to me that he was already dead dead in the explosion. It wasn't the smoke that got to him.)

I also don't like when fics reveal the Batarang Incident by having Jason use it as ammo when he's lashing out. He would not do that. That is a secret that would have be pried out of him with a crowbar.

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

THROWING A BOMB OFF THE WESTMINSTER BRIDGE. AND, WHILE HE WAS ACTIVELY TRYING TO DISARM IT BEFORE THEN, TAKING THE TIME TO MAKE FUN OF THE CONSTABLE'S BRITISH ACCENT FOR THREE PARAGRAPHS STRAIGHT.

"Hush up, Constable. Daddy's busy." "Bloody hell." "Yeah, 'bloody hell', 'bollocks' and 'bob's yer uncle.' Back the hell up twenty feet. I need both hands to do this and I can't keep the gun trained on you. Step up on me, I'll draw and you'll be having crumpits with Mary Queen of Scots." "What are you doin' there?" "Playing Mah Jong, Mary. Almost got me four melds here--aw, crap. I just found the timer. Looks like it's tea time."

^this entire exchange. I'm never recovering from it. Jason you are seventeen. (Red Hood: Lost Days Issue #5)

[revekposting]

Hello! This is a blog run by @reveks! I'll be posting a Revek every day, but please read through a few rules before sending any asks!

NSFW isn't allowed, but suggestive jokes will be! They'll be under a cut and tagged appropriately.

This blog is about Revek, but I may draw other characters for fun so don't be afraid to ask for them!

I have about 500+ designs for Revek due to AUs and there's a high chance they'll be cycled through depending on what I feel like drawing! They'll be tagged accordingly, but my main Revek design and the one I will probably draw the most is here!

You may request OCs (provided they're alongside the main star himself) but there is no guarantee I will draw them

[spiritsscribe]

Good evening Revek! I have something I'd like to ask you that I've always been curious about. What is it like looking after the Glade and many spirits resting inside it?

"It can get kind of boring... barely anything happens. I'm not complaining, though!"

[neptuniadoesstuff]

A bunch of Mamics I made for ppl in my "Mimic OC Shop" where I just make designs for ppl who sign in the order thing from my shop. (Except I haven't GOTTEN ANY payments yet except for that one)

Now before you ask... Yeh uh the Mamics (the species) were slightly inspired by the strange flesh demons from MO: Astray.

Picture 1:

Ash Revek (Weird Child 1) (For spidersandchryslers on Screb)

Abella Ardmore (Fish Lady) (For floppefishforfun on Screb)

Picture 2:

Karma Caracal (Weird child 2 but with knife) (For elps1008698 on Screb)

Raven Konveylez (Byorb) (For @stridesthroughashes)

If you want, you can find what da hecc is the shop thing is about right here.

Also, finna b my last post of today-

Name(s): Mamics 01 & Mamics 02

Designs: Mine.

Art: Mine.

Program: IbisPaint x.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my Blog's pinned project clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PEASE CREDIT ME!

[strawberryaeris]

revek

Revek, the lil rascal ❤

favorite thing about them

I love how he was dead serious on beating you up if you dreamnail him or anyone in the glade

least favorite thing about them

Nothing really other than the lack of info on him (which is still fine on its own tho)

favorite line

"To protect? Was that my task? If so, who was I protecting? It's only you and me here." :,(

brOTP

I guess either between Revek and Xero, Revek and Millybug, or Revek and Lace ( < for Abug Us reasons)

OTP

Again, for Abug Us reasons, Grimm/Revek ain't that bad-

nOTP

N/A

random headcanon

Can't really think of much, but I like to think that he sees the spirits of the glade as his family, so that's one of his reasons he's very protective of them (just makes it sadder that he forgets it all after they're all gone)

unpopular opinion

N/A he's cool :]

song i associate with them

Once again for Abug Us reasons, here

favorite picture of them

Fanart wise, this piece :]

Ask game

[blizzardz]

lovebirds

[indieblueart]

YEAAAAA FIRST EVER MASS ATTACK

I love iterators I am giving them all a little kiss kiss

Character list under the readmore

Column 1

Distant Memories & the Stormchaser @vela-pulsars

Aberration @subconniving

Unbound Thought @gadjetomyart

Flowing Heavens & The Envoy vell_ichor

Blossoming Strelitzia Fields @azrielfiend

Column 2

Lost in Watchful Thought @mothwingedmyths

Kindling Spark & the Welder Callynx

Glittering Oceans @ardienothesieno

Omniscience of Disk jayyykip

Sight through Blindness @altitudeofalcatraz

Column 3

Haybale @sketchywasteland

Nine Linen Lanes & the Transfigurer @pansear-doodles

Sparkling Sea, Meadow In Moonlight, The Aviator, & The Merchant @ask-sparkling-sea aka MEEEEE

Paradox of Creation @skyistheground

Safe Ship, Harbored & The Historian @browzerhistory

Column 4

Beyond the Grasp Theguy

Nine Chimes silvesterhound

Whispering of the Many @altitudeofalcatraz

Fluttering in the Breeze @maplem0th

Several Cheap Fragments @kakyogay

Column 5

Starlight Symphony & the Weaver @mewguca

Timeless Golden Gambit Zirconphyr

Nothing Well-Made @meatcatt

Twelfth Briefly Unbound @arcaedex

Dew that Lingers @reveks

[daily-revek]

i asked my friend what my first post here should be and he said to make this

original image