[sorominnu]

List of some WIPs with reader links (aka anyone can read/interact with my WIPs and see how they evolve):

O, Death: Part 3 of my Vanitas series. Tim recieves a quest from the god he sold his soul to to bring Jason back to life.

Only One Ending: Currently re-working Ch. 5

Cracks in the Dark: Horror-esque fic following Duke, Dick, and Jason

Untitled 1: Dick babysits Jazz and Jason's toddler

[sorominnu]

WIP I'm revisiting for Kinktober. Sometimes you do just need to not look at something for 10 months before going back to it.

Part of my medieval AU

Jazz/Jason, Rated E

As much as Jason appreciated some parts of traveling, there were other parts he could live without — primarily, how long it meant he would have to be away from his wife. He had grown used to her companionship, and during his month long journey managed to fill half a journal with thoughts he wanted to share with her but couldn't due to her absence.

(Of course, Jason had missed other parts of her companionship; the memory of her warmth oft left him hard and aching when he woke, but he was much more reserved towards that part of his longing.)

Upon his group's return, Jazz was there to greet him at the gate. He moved to hug her, to show as much physical affection decorum allowed after being away for too long, but stopped when Jazz grasped onto his arm. Jason angled his body towards her as he leaned down, breath hitching as she whispered her desires in his ear. And then she was being called away, and ever responsible she followed while Jason was left fighting back a flush. Normally, he would be the one to untack and brush down his horse after a trip, but with new anticipation swirling in his gut Jason was quick to hand the reins to a stableboy.

He ignored the snickers of his men as he hurried off, trying to not make it too obvious what he was rushing to. Utilizing low-traffic paths he managed to get to his bed chamber without being intercepted by anyone (though, he suspected everyone knew not to stop him after a long journey). However, that also meant he arrived before Jazz. Leaving the door between their rooms open as a signal, he moved onto the bathroom, hoping she'd arrive to join him there.

He had been surprised the first time she asked to join him as he bathed, still caught up in his head about 'marital duties' and how all that was required of them was to consummate their joining and produce an heir — nothing more. But he'd still nodded and watched wide-eyed as Jazz produced a stool to sit upon. Jason had felt like a blushing maiden, unsure how to react without causing possible offense towards his wife pleasuring him like a bath-house whore. After a few years, though, he had grown to anticipate such occurrences.

But even though he waited until the water turned cold, Jazz didn't appear. It wasn't until Jason was half-clothed and going through his usual routine after a long journey that he heard the sound of her door's hinges. Eager, Jason was quick to step into her room, only to see Jazz with her brow furrowed and muttering to herself while removing her diadem and wimple.

"Is there trouble?"

Jazz startled, but relaxed upon realizing it was only Jason. She let out a sigh as he moved to help her remove her outer gown, "It's Danny...."

"Oh? What has the Crowned Prince done now?" To Jason, it seemed most of Jazz's worries and concerns recently were around her brother. From neglecting his duties to refusing to marry the noble girl he was betrothed to since they were babes, the prince had been causing more trouble then usual.

"He," Jazz gave an annoyed huff as she removed her hair from its pinned-up plaits, "was caught in a compromising position with Sir Damon's daughter."

Jason began to help brush out her hair with his fingers as he asked, "How compromising?" He laid a kiss against the crown of her head, "And remember, you can be crass."

Jazz closed her eyes, relaxing back into him for a moment before tensing again. "He had his fingers in her and, according to the kitchen boy who caught them, his leggings were unlaced."

Moving her hair aside, Jason kissed the back of her neck before saying, "Well, he wouldn't be the first prince to fuck outside of wedlock, and he definitely wouldn't be the last."

Jazz sighed again, but relaxed even further into him when Jason wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to press his lips to the crook of her neck.

"But to do so, so soon after declaring his engagement over...I cannot understand what he was thinking."

Jason spoke against her skin, voice heavy, "I believe I can."

[sorominnu]

Writing DC fanfic always has me feeling like I need to add sources for everything including basic characterization

[kinktober26]

Welcome to Kinktober 2026!

The makers of Kinktober 2025 are back again with a brand new list! The graphics are once again created by latte-cucumber. Check out our AO3 collection, or keep reading for more information.

More information

Kinktober is a kinky October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.

If you have any questions, check our FAQs. Unfortunately, due to personal commitments, we won't be opening our askbox for questions this year. We've made it as rules-light as possible, though, so if your question is "Can I do this?", the answer is almost certainly yes!

Prompts

Condoms – Bratting – Watersports

Orgy – Embarrassment – Bestiality

Hate Sex – Suspension Bondage – Mind Control

Body Writing – Subspace – Master/Slave

Glory Hole – Cloning/Selfcest – Body Modification

Held Down – Riding Crops – Feeding/Stuffing

Dirty Talk – Cockwarming – Aphrodisiacs

Face Sitting – Switching – Scat

Orgasm Delay/Denial – Discipline – Whips

Gentle Sex – Chains – Noncon

Age Gap – Breathplay – Religion Kink

Phone Sex – Findom – Edgeplay

Frottage – Temperature Play – Emetophilia

Strength Kink – Roleplay – Vore

Corsets – Power Imbalance – Human Furniture

Nipple Play – Conditioning – Predator/Prey

Rough Sex – Begging – Furry

Deepthroating – Rope Bondage – Transformation

Public Sex – Daddy/Mommy Kink – Cigars/Cigarettes

One Night Stand – Pain Play – Snuff

Coregasm – Overstimulation – Predicament Bondage

Sharing – Boot Worship – Lactation

Vibrators – Caught In The Act – ABDL

Leather/Lace/Latex – Spreader Bar – Drugging

First Time – Non-Sexual BDSM – Knifeplay

Swallowing – Collars – Fuck Or Die

Spanking – Feminization/Masculinization – Inflation

Strap-On – Safewords – Torture

Quickie – Pet Play – Wet And Messy

Licking – Clamps – Oviposition

Fingering – Micro/Macro – Writer’s Choice

Bonus prompts:

Kink Discovery

Stripping

Coming In Pants

Omegaverse (Non-Traditional Dynamics)

Pornography

Sub/Dom Drop

Blackmail

[rowanisawriter]

write insane shit that’s way beyond your perceived ability and skill level even if you don’t finish it even if you think it sucks

[toolusingmammalgirl]

The Four Sacred Artistic Motives:

-what if this bad thing was good instead

-how about Make-Believe Land can have whatever I want

-would that be fucked up or what

-I think that shit's hot

[sorominnu]

Jason getting told he's 'killing himself with those' when smoking and gets a flashback to Willis telling a high Catherine she's killing herself

[akemi2003]

Fic prompt #12

Dpxdc

Danny’s obsession was helping people

He thought it was cool, it was a good thing and even his parents, if they knew about Phantom would have been proud of him for having an obsession so nice, unlike other ghosts that used their obsession like an excuse to cause chaos

No one ever told him that obsessions could evolve

First it was helping people, then it became being a hero and from there it becomes HEROES

He wanted to know everything about everyone of them

Why were they doing it? Where they get that ability/power/knowledge? What inspired their costume?

Before he knew it he had abused his power and the fact that nobody believed in ghosts, for obtaining his information

He knew everything, their secret identities, their backgrounds, powers, circle of friends….

He had files at the beginning but he realized fast enough that he don’t needed it, he couldn’t literally forget them

At the beginning he felt kind of bad about abusing his powers and invading the privacy of the heroes, but that feeling faded kinda quickly when he discovered that many citizens of Amity at the beginning of the ghosts attack had tried contacting the Justice League just to be blacklisted because “Ghost don’t exist “

At this point he considered the info, like a paycheck, a totally deserved one

He even ended up using the knowledge to improve his fighting style so at the end of his school years he had that situation under control.

He even became the heir to the throne of the Infinite Realm, so he didn’t even need to find a job

He didn’t account for his obsession to evolve another time. He should have known better…

But who can blame him? Red Robin was just his type!!!

He was even being sacrificed to him! It was destiny!!!!!!

Unfortunately he still had his morals intact so he would have to let him go, but who said that it was a simple affair?

The justice league knows nothing about the realms, him, Amity Park or ghosts..

It would be very simple to trick them into believing that Tim was now bound to him and that it was irreversible

Just until he can get him to love him, and marry him and maybe to create a family

Who was he kidding? There was no way he was ever letting him go. He would just giving the illusion of a choice, after all this was also part of his paycheck

[rummigumi]

Adding more thoughts to my Paladin AU without having to write a fic:

Bruce swore an oath of redemption believing people aren't born inherently evil and anyone can choose to be better. While he doesn't doubt his oath or beliefs, he doubts himself -- doubts whether he's following the oath out of pure belief, or desperation that he, too, isn't inherently evil. That he can also be redeemed.

That's why he admires Dick so much, because while Bruce clings to his oath like a lifeline (selfishly, in his mind) Dick truly embodies a redemption paladin. Sure, he can be mean and vicious in his fights (just like Bruce), but he still believes that people can change for the better. That ultimately, people are good, and he wants to protect that.

Because Dick followed in his footsteps, that's why it was hard when Jason showed signs that he couldn't take the oath of redemption. Regardless of his action or inaction towards Garzonas, there were signs that it was hard for Jason to fully believe in the core beliefs of redeemers. And while Bruce didn't see anything wrong with Jason not taking the oath, to Jason it was pure rejection. The rejection is why he doesn't ask Bruce for help when searching for his birth mom, and why after coming back it was easier for him to take a different oath -- one of vengeance.

Stephanie also isn't one to follow the oath of redemption, or any oath really. So when Bruce rejects her she looks outside of becoming a paladin. Barbara helps Steph get her feet under her, to bring back her confidence in herself and remind her that oaths aren't required to help people, to be a protector. After all, Barbara never needed one.

Cass, like Bruce, clings to her oath as proof that she isn't ultimately evil, that she can become more than a murderer. If she can change, so can anyone else. She has to believe that she can be redeemed, and if serving as a redeemer is proof of her change she's happy to serve, to use her skills to save instead of kill. After all, just because someone can be redeemed doesn't mean they are forgiven, their transgressions aren't erased. But maybe she can make up for them.

[rummigumi]

I need surgeon Jazz to be a little weird about Jason after she starts helping stitch him up. Like, yes she thinks he's hot BUT he also becomes a portfolio of her skills and sometimes she finds herself admiring her work (the scars left behind) instead of him

[sorominnu]

WIP Wednesday. Part of Ch.1 of my Dead Tired mermaid AU.

Gotham Harbor was the dumping ground of all sorts of unsavory materials, which meant Bruce routinely monitored and tested the water. The first time he was told, years ago, Tim had joked that ‘at least they'd have warning about potential kaijus before they destroyed the city,’ but the reference had flown over Bruce's head. He'd felt slightly vindicated a little over two months ago when the tests had shown an unusually high amount of radiation in the harbor — what kind, though, was undetermined. Further testing remained inconclusive, which only led to greater worry; ionizing radiation versus non-ionizing were very different levels of danger.

They had checked their usual suspects and staked out the popular dumping locations but found no sign of someone dumping radioactive material. So they'd gone deeper — literally. Multiple underwater probes were set up to continuously report on radiation levels and send out a signal about any sudden spikes. 

Of course, that meant delegating someone to watch the probes and be available to respond to any alerts. Since Tim already lived primarily out of his ‘murder shack-boat’, (affectionately labeled by his friends), he didn't have an argument to stand on when he was assigned to ‘probe watcher’ duty. 

Over a month later he still didn't have any answers.

The radiation ebbed and flowed like the water it resided in. The spikes didn't follow ocean currents or any specific water flow, but they also didn't seem random. He just couldn't figure out the pattern.  

But, a week and a half ago, they had a maybe-breakthrough. The probe farthest from shore began to experience small spikes (not large enough to trigger an alert, but spikes nonetheless) twice a day, always around the same time frames. Once he realized, Tim immediately sailed out to investigate further. 

He hadn't wanted to interfere with whatever was causing the spikes so he made sure to keep his distance as he waited. Only, nothing happened — at least from what he could pick up from his boat. The spikes continued, but he still had no idea why. 

Making an executive decision, Tim had pulled the probe up. Designed for stealth it was only about as big as his hand and the waterproof components made it difficult to work on with only the tools he had on hand. Still, he had been able to add a small camera and double-check that the probe was functioning correctly. Mildly satisfied, he resubmerged the device and gained distance from it to wait for the next radiation spike, which — he cracked his eyes open against the sun to check his watch — was set to happen at any moment. 

Tim rolled to get up before heading into the cockpit where his monitoring system was set up. All of the readings were still within the expected ranges, but he sat down anyway and pulled up the new camera's stream. 

Nothing but sand and rocks. 

And then, movement as the radiation levels spiked and something sped past the camera. It was blurry, but Tim thought he saw scales. 

A large, irradiated fish? 

They had suspected the radiation was affecting some of the sea life, but not enough to cause a fish to set off the probes — especially this far out, where overall levels were lower. The new evidence suggested otherwise, that the radiation was creating more issues than they thought. Bruce would definitely want to inspect further, possibly even try to intercept or catch the animal.

Tim was about to rewind the stream to play frame-by-frame, but stopped as the radiation levels began to slowly increase again until hitting the same level as when the unknown animal brushed past. 

It returned. 

Tim couldn't see it on the camera (it had to be out of its scope), but that was the only explanation. 

It had never double-backed before. 

He watched the camera feed with bated breath, mentally encouraging the animal to move back in front of the lens. Instead, the camera began to move. Tim swore as he realized the animal was messing with the probe, shaking both it and the camera. 

“Stop that,” he scolded, as if it could hear him. Of course, it couldn't, so the interference continued. 

Then, the camera went dark before disconnecting completely. 

Tim huffed in annoyance as he pulled up the last few seconds of the camera feed; he thought he saw something at the end. But when he paused on the last few milliseconds, his annoyance turned to shock. Because there, on the screen, were claws, as if whatever broke his camera had grabbed it first. 

Kaiju was the only thing his nerd brain could conjure up. But the ocean hiding the creature was undisturbed, so baby kaiju? Tim couldn't help but kind of hope that was the case. The thought alone of Damian's face when he found out Tim had a baby kaiju and he didn't left him grinning. 

However, a loud metallic bang from outside quickly wiped the grin off his face as Tim ran out to the deck.

The kaiju, or whatever it was, had thrown the now-broken probe onto his ship.

Tim immediately became more cautious, listening closely as he visually scanned the area. Hearing only the normal sound of water slapping the side of the boat he moved out into the open, but remained on guard as he examined the probe.

The external shell had been ripped through, but the internal parts looked completely untouched — not that it helped much, most were still vulnerable to sea water without the protective shell. Tim's camera was worse, mangled beyond even what he could repair.

He groaned, not bothering to pick up the probe as he prepared to inform the others about what had happened. But when he turned he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, as if something was ducking back down into the water. Without hesitation Tim sprinted over, leaning over the edge of the boat to peer down into the ocean.

Nothing.

"Hey, are you the one who threw this? I promise I'm not mad." Tim couldn't get the idea of a baby kaiju out of his mind — after all, what else could the creature be? It was showing high levels of intelligence, was at least somewhat irradiated, and has scales and claws. If it was a baby then maybe he could prevent it from turning into Gozilla, and if it wasn't a threat there'd be no reason he couldn't keep it around. Damian got to keep Goliath, Tim would make life hell if he was forced to give up his baby kaiju.

Despite losing himself a little in his science fiction fantasies, Tim was still aware enough to notice the prickling sensation that he was being watched. He spun around, just to again see something duck down into the water before he could process what it was. He didn't chase after it though, knowing by the time he got there it'd be gone.

"Are you able to understand me? I just want to talk. I'm investigating radiation levels in the water, and I think you've been affected."

No response.

Tim waited a few more seconds before letting out a small sigh. He was so caught up in his disappointment, he nearly missed the dark shape that appeared in the water beside him. Nearly.

[sorominnu]

Plot of a current Tim/Danny WIP:

Mermaid AU where Danny is a mermaid that gets left behind near Gotham's harbor after getting into an accident with ectoplasm (aka the Incident). Tim's investigating an increase in radiation levels in the harbor and comes across Danny, who tries to help him find the original source.

Most of it though is Danny having to stay the winter while waiting for his pod to migrate through the area again, with Tim having buy an indoor pool/water park since Danny can't actually survive the winter.

[sorominnu]

New writing blog, so need to post some WIPs. The Vanitas series is turning from an outlet for grief into a characrer study.

Jason stared at the old god, hands clenched as he fought down the repulsion curling in his stomach. 

“You wanted to talk?” The voice echoed around Jason. He swallowed down his fear as he replied, “I…what did you do to me?” 

The god's head cocked to the side. “I brought you back to life, as the deal required.” 

Jason had read enough ancient myths and stories around deals with gods to know it was never that simple. They'd exploit every loophole, use half truths to trick the mortals involved — anything to remind everyone who was in charge. To put those seen as beneath them in their place. The anger he was growing used to was quickly replacing the fear in his chest. 

“So you screwed me over, huh? The deal was to bring me back, but you thought it'd be funny to mess me up first? Make sure I came back wrong?”

“You didn't come back wrong.” The god said it so matter-of-fact it threw Jason off. Of course he came back wrong, why else would he feel the way he did? Why else would he feel so wrong? Like a piece had been ripped out and replaced with something that wasn't him?

“No…no I did. I…I wasn't like this before.” 

“Like what?” 

“So…so…,” angry, “emotional.” 

The god was silent for a moment. 

“Souls that have died often feel emotions more intensely than those that haven't.” 

Stronger emotions didn't explain the burning pit that had made itself at home in Jason's stomach. They didn't explain why all he wanted to do was scream and fight and pound his fists against things until his knuckles bled and his bones creaked. They didn't explain why he'd look at Bruce and feel like he was dying all over again. Stronger emotions didn't explain that. 

“But why…why do I feel this way? Why is it that all I can feel is anger and hatred?” He begged the god to explain why he was feeling what he was, because he needed someone to tell him. (He needed the god to tell him what he was feeling was reasonable, that he wasn't going insane.)

And the god just stared at him with its creepy unblinking eyes and dark expressionless face. When it finally spoke, its voice was soft in a way that only occurs when one is explaining death to a child. “You're angry because you are mourning, and in pain. You have lost who you were and the life you had before you died, and it's hurting you.”

That didn't sound right. Jason hadn’t lost anything; his life hadn't changed between living and returning. He'd woken up, and aside from the worried glances and even more awkward hovering from Bruce, it had been easy to forget he had even died. How could he have lost anything when everything was exactly the same as before he died? 

(Before he was killed.) 

But Jason had changed. While living with Bruce he had grown soft, forgot what the world was really like, forgot that just because he wore a cape and believed in justice and doing the right thing and helping others it didn’t mean shit when push came to shove. He had forgotten what he had learned long ago while watching his mother spiral deeper and deeper into her addiction and he had to do anything to survive. Awful things happened, and the world kept on turning and the universe kept expanding and it didn't matter how good you were or if you did everything right, unless you won the karmic lottery you were screwed. 

But dying had removed the naive beliefs that he had allowed to fill his head, had removed the rose-colored glasses Bruce had put over his eyes. Dying had changed him, but he hadn't lost who he was. If anything, it made him more of who he was before Bruce. 

(Before stability and peace and enjoying being alive and allowing himself to be a kid-)

“No,” Jason's voice was choked and harsh, “you're wrong.” 

And the god didn't smite him for daring to imply he knew better than it. It didn't even scold him. It simply asked, “Then what is causing your pain?” 

Deep down, Jason knew. He knew it was the way the others skirted around him, treating him like a loaded gun with the safety off. Their concerned whispers about how he'd changed and he wasn't the Jason they remembered rang in his ears. (He wanted to scream at them that it was still him. He had dug himself out of his own grave and pulled together all the pieces of himself he could find to be how they remembered, but he had changed and why couldn't they just accept that? Why couldn't they just accept him?) 

He knew it was the realization that Bruce never loved Jason as much as he loved him. Jason loved Bruce as a son loves a father, but Bruce didn’t love him as a father loves a son. A father’s love was supposed to be unconditional, to extend to the ends of the Earth. A father’s love was supposed to put their children above all else. But Bruce’s love was conditional, completely dependent on how well Jason followed his rules. And he had proven that Jason would never be more important than his moral high ground, that his death wasn’t even enough to change that. 

He knew his pain came from realizing he was never loved as much as he thought he was. (And maybe the god had been right, because he had lost the comfort in believing that he was loved, that he had a family he could trust. He had lost Bruce.) 

“They…the others,” Jason wet his lips as he tried to figure out how to put his pain into words, “they don’t like who I’ve become.” 

“Is that why you were hoping I was the cause of what's changed within you? So you could return to who you were before, and they would accept you again?” 

“No! I just-,” Jason broke off as he realized he didn't quite know what he wanted from the god. He had wanted answers, to have a clear reason why his life had gone to shit, but talking to the god didn't help at all. If anything it made the jumbled emotions inside of him worse. 

"What is it you want?"

[vtsumi]

maaa there's a werid fucking cat outside and its pondering the puddles this time!!

[rummigumi]

2 AM preview of 'O, Death'. It's getting there, and if I manage to stop constantly changing and rewriting things it'll be published this month.

[rummigumi]

WIP Wednesday as proof that I'm still writing and working on stuff from before my hiatus. This is the third installment of my 'Vanitas' series, an AU where Tim and Jason's training overlaps and Jason dies later than canon. Tim trades his soul to Danny (a death-god figure) to bring Jason back. I have about 3K written (I recently deleted over 1K cause I didn't like it....), expected total word count is around 11K.

After a few weeks Tim could officially say the worst thing about a god owning his soul was the uncertainty that came with it. It was certain he had paid a high price, but aside from that he was in the dark. He didn't know what would be asked of him, how much he'd have to go through. He didn't even know when he was supposed to start serving the god. It lurked in mirrors and in the corner of his eye, but it had yet to speak to him, to ask something of him.

He hated it. 

It didn't help that Jason kept hovering around him, shooting him worried looks and acting as if any second the god was going to spirit Tim away. It made it impossible to get anything done, and the others were starting to get suspicious (or, at least, confused). 

Of course, none of it was aided by the fact that Jason had his own shadow to contend with — ever since his revival, Bruce rarely let him out of his sight. Tim could understand why Bruce had become more overbearing than before Jason's death, but all it was accomplishing was driving tensions through the roof. No longer were the arguing and screaming matches between Dick and Bruce, but instead between Jason and Bruce. 

Tim had long forgone trying to keep track of all the arguments and why they occurred — in the end, it was just the same fight but in a different font. Bruce would do something that pushed Jason's buttons, he'd lash out, Bruce would make it worse, and the anger would boil over until they had to be separated. History repeating itself, in more ways than one. 

(He had asked Jason once, towards the beginning, why they were always fighting — they rarely did before, well, everything. Jason's eyes glowed venom green as he spat out, “He just fucking pisses me off,” before kicking the punching bag he was using in lieu of flesh hard enough to tear it from the stand. And while Tim knew he was safe, he also knew better than to ask him to elaborate.) 

In the end it was nearly two months before the god acted. It took Tim a moment to realize what was happening — he had gone to bed, and at first he thought it was just a dream, but he was too aware and the swirling green above him too familiar. He appeared to be on the exterior of a castle, and twenty or so feet down the ramparts, looking off into the distance, was…someone. 

Instinctively Tim knew it was the old god. Except, it didn't look like the god he knew. It wasn't the shadowy figure he'd glimpse throughout the day, nor was it the jet-black body containing ever-moving shapes from the summoning. Instead it was a teenager, most likely around the same age as Tim. (Which…weird. He didn't understand why an ageless god would want to portray itself as a teen, other than a possible manipulation tactic.) But despite the more human appearance, the god was still too other to pass as one — ethereal white hair, green-tinged skin, a luminescent aura, and bright venom green eyes that matched the sky above them.

(-around them, Tim mentally corrected.)

Whatever attire it was wearing was hidden by a black cape clasped tightly around the neck. 

“Not what you were expecting?” 

Tim jumped at being addressed, the voice echoing around him, but the old god didn't look away from the horizon. 

“You could say that. This is my first time being the ‘summoned’ instead of the ‘summoner’.” The corner of the god's mouth twitched up. Good, an amused god was more likely to be forgiving. 

“It's definitely…an experience.” 

He waited for the god to continue, but when it didn't Tim gingerly stepped closer, trying to get a gauge on how close was too close. Despite being in the god's domain, he had yet to feel the same sense of dread and power as he did at the summoning. 

“I have a task for you.” 

Tim straightened up, ready to hear the reason he had been called upon — hoping, desperately hoping it wasn't anything too bad as the god finally turned to face him. 

“I need you to retrieve something for me.” 

A fetch quest. He could do that. 

“Years ago a human from your plane stole something from me. With you providing a gate, I was able to locate it. Now I need you to get it back.”

The short summary left Tim with many questions. His main ones were — “Wait, what do you mean ‘a gate’? And what, exactly, am I getting back?”   

The god paused, and Tim feared he had somehow overstepped, but as it spoke it became clear the god was simply choosing its words carefully. 

“When you became my…agent, a connection was formed between us. Through that connection I was able to sense and track down the object that was stolen. It is…something precious to me.”

Still uncomfortably vague. 

“Can I get, like, a description of what it is? Or will it be one of those mysterious ‘you'll know it when you see it’ instances?” He couldn't help but use his ‘spooky wizard’ voice to add emphasis to his second question. The god, at least, didn't smite him for it. 

“I will help you identify it once you're close.” 

“...Okay?” Tim really wished the god wouldn't be so stereotypically cryptic. Too bad his wishes rarely came true.

“This wasn't meant to be a long summoning and our time is running short. Do you have any more pressing questions?” 

Too many. But Tim had already accepted he wouldn't get an answer to most of them, at least not during the current meeting. However, there was one that might be answered. One that had plagued him since even before Jason had been revived.  

“What's…do you have a name?” 

The god's face turned confused, its eyes searching. “Wasn't it in that book you used to summon me? The one the magician took.” 

“Well, I guess? We couldn't really translate it…” 

God's judgment. The judgment of God. That had been what Constantine said the name translated to, but the direct translation was unhelpful in figuring out the god's actual name. Tim had been able to find names with similar meaning in existing languages, but the original language had been all but lost. The only chance he had of learning it was from the god itself. 

But as the confusion on the god's face turned to concern, Tim realized that chance might be fruitless. His voice was cautious as he asked, “Do you not know your name?” 

The god looked away, as if ashamed, and Tim couldn't help but note how human it was — a god that felt shame. But the god's tone was nothing but melancholic when it spoke, “No one's called me anything but one of my titles for a long time. I don't remember….” 

The god trailed off, but it was obvious what went unsaid. 

The Forgotten God — the title made more sense. Tim couldn't imagine how long it took for a god to forget who it was, what it was called before. 

(He couldn't imagine how old the being in front of him, conversing with him, in charge of him, would have to be. How lonely it would be to go so long without a name.)

“Do…do you want a name?” 

The god didn't answer right away, silence stretching between them before, “If you wish to give me a name, I won't stop you.” 

Tim took that as acceptance. 

The name he had in mind wasn't a one-to-one translation, but it was the closest he could find. If the god didn’t like it then Tim could just try another. 

“How about Daniel? It technically means ‘God is my judge’, but the roots come from ‘to judge’ and ‘God’.” 

“Daniel.” The god said it slowly, as if tasting each syllable, before nodding. “I will accept it.” 

[rummigumi]

I talked to people about Godzilla tonight and it made me want to share this bit I wrote for my mermaid AU WIP. I don't plan on posting it until it's all written, but it's definitely one of my more favorite WIPs.