JASICO WEEK DAY 3: Angst/Comfort
CW: major character death, grief
Nico runs his brush over the lettering on the face of the headstone, delicate despite the dirt worked into the cracks. He should be harder with it, he knows - it’s not like he’ll be able to break it. The headstone is too new for that, not worn down with age like the others in the cemetery. The dirt around the grave is so fresh, weeds haven’t even begun to grow over it, not that Nico would let them. He’s gotten good at weeding. Pruning flowers. Anything, to take care of this spot.
Jason Grace, the headstone reads. Beneath that, his rank, and years of service. The date he died.
Nico brushes his thumb over the curves which mark Jason as seventeen on his day of death. One of the eldest in the graveyard.
Back when he first heard, when Nico first felt the impact of Jason’s death like a saw blade through his gut, Nico couldn’t come visit the grave at all. Every reminder of Jason being gone was too much, the weight of loss sitting in him in a way Nico hadn’t felt since he was ten years old. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his grief, except to cry, and cry, and cry.
He’s glad to be past that stage. His heart still aches, every day is still hard, but Nico can breathe through it, now. He can clean the gravestone, and talk to Jason even if Jason doesn’t talk back. He can make sure this site is as respected as the man it honors.
Nico adjusts the flowers Hazel brought last night, a bouquet of blue and purple and white. Jason would think they’re pretty. The smell would make him sneeze.
His favorite color was yellow, though. Nobody ever brings Jason yellow flowers. Always blue, like his eyes, like the sky, like his father.
Daffodils. Nico will have to bring him some daffodils tomorrow. And irises, and carnations. Maybe Persephone will help him put together a bouquet. She always had a soft spot for Jason, not that she’d ever admit to liking one of Nico’s friends. Whenever Nico would talk about Jason with her, she would listen with this look on her face, like Nico was saying the most interesting things. It felt good to know someone appreciated Jason in the same way Nico did.
Maybe not the same way. But as close as someone else could get.
“It’s been a good day today,” Nico says. He runs the brush over the crown of the stone again, gentle as before. “Things have been slow. Father hasn’t given me as many jobs this week, and there’s finally been a lull in attacks near the borders. Hazel and Frank are introducing a new bill to the senate tomorrow, which…well, I’ll tell you how it goes, then. I don’t want to jinx it for them.”
A breeze blows through the valley. Nico leans back, tilts his chin up into it.
He closes his eyes. He can almost imagine the wind in his hair is Jason’s hand, ruffling in a way nobody else has ever been brave enough. Easily affectionate, despite all the ways Nico threatened him, kept him at a distance. Jason was just like that, always eager to be there, to hold, to comfort.
Gods, Nico wishes he could’ve accepted one more hug. Had one more conversation.
It’s starting to rain. The temperature drops and the sky darkens and Nico can smell it, the dampness in the air. The first drops splatter across his cheeks and his nose, his lips. He doesn’t flinch. He’s used to sitting out in storms, now.
“I love you,” he tells the sky.
In return, the rain pelts harder, quickly turning from a drizzle to an outright downpour, soaking Nico’s hair to the root in seconds. His clothes stick to his skin.
He still doesn’t move.
“Don’t cry with me.” It’s silly, to act like the rain is Jason’s doing. Still. It helps Nico cope. Sometimes, if he imagines hard enough, he can still see memories of Jason’s grin, that scar on his lip, the tilt of his nose while the skies opened up around them, a display of power, a force of nature.
Nico never saw Jason cry. He supposes Jason never saw him cry, either. Just another thing they’ll never get to share. Another thing they missed. “You’re going to drown your flowers, at this rate.”
The deluge does not die down.
It’s enough to almost make him laugh, the sudden mental image of Jason scowling down at the flowers he doesn’t really like at all, the ones that make him sneeze and itch. Jason Grace, mighty son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, using all of his power to destroy a few flowers that have wronged him.
Nico didn’t get to know that side of Jason very long, the side of him that was a young boy, the side of him who was a person. But gods, of everything they did get together, that is what he’s happiest to have had. The truth. Not the son of Jupiter, not the champion, not the praetor. Just the boy.
Nico smiles, even as he cries, leaning back in a graveyard during a near-biblical rain storm. Nico smiles.
Every day, it gets a little easier to. Every day, he hopes Jason is smiling back, from wherever he is.
76 notes
·
View notes
i crave the emotional catharsis that would come with crowley taking care of his plans, in so much pain but swallowing it down and pretending it's not real, finally having the mental breakdown he deserves.
he's taking care of his plants, a detached look on his face, misting them and making sure they're all healthy and have enough space to grow. after he returned, he stopped talking to them for the most part. they welcomed him back, they had missed him—shax is not the nicest or most interesting company to keep—and now they're worried.
crowley sleeps, paces, mists his plants, gets drunk, and sleeps some more. everything to stop feeling. until he sees a leaf spot on one of them. a tiny imperfection, barely worth a shout, and yet.
a tremor works it way through him, his knees always giving out, and he presses one palm against the wall to keep himself upright. wave after wave of shame, bright and stabbing in the middle of his chest, reminds him why he left.
not good enough.
crowley had tried, someone knows he tried. it's hard to regain a soul, harder yet to shape it into something worth loving, someone worth living for, but he had tried.
his fingers curl around the pot and before he can stop himself he flings it across the room, listening to it shatter. can't even do that right, can he? can't raise fucking plans, can't keep his STUPID mouth shut, can't make him stay because who would want to be stuck with him forever? no one, that's who, and after six thousand years, aziraphale had seemingly reached his blessed limit and taken the first chance to leave.
another plant follows with a scream, dirt and broken stems covering the floor and staining the walls, and then another and another and another until he can fall to his knees amidst the ruins of his life.
clay shards are cutting his palms open as he doubles over, sobs wrecking through him like thunder, and his tears carve clean paths down his dirty hands.
"i tried," he whispers, voice hoarse from yelling, "i'm sorry, i tried."
crowley's wings unfurl with an almost silent gust of air, blacking out the sunlight streaming in. he drags himself to the nearest corner before wrapping his arms and wings around himself, and curling up as tightly as possible.
"i tried," he keeps breathing into feathers and fabric, "i tried, i tried, i tried."
over and over until his voice fails him and then some more. it is almost a lullaby, the words taking whatever is left of his heart and gently rocking it back and forth. crowley falls asleep like that, exhausted and broken and lonely. just as sleep pulls him under, he stops his repetition, his mouth shaping phrase after phrase.
for the very first time since his fall, crowley closes his eyes and prays.
643 notes
·
View notes
one of the most frustrating things about current dc & what's slowly starting to make me lose interest altogether is this like… bizarre nuclear family-ization of everything & everyone
a lot of the appeal of superhero "families" came from them not fitting into the norm of what a family is "supposed" to look like. the dynamics between every single person were very unique and very few if any of their relationships really fit into any traditional family roles (because that's kinda the entire point of found families/families of choice)
but now, it's like them not resembling a conventional family unit is seen as a bad thing that needs to be "fixed," and everybody's histories & relationships are being deliberately watered down and pruned of any and all complexity so they can be easily slotted into conventional family roles
idk i just think "he's like a brother to me because of how much he's come to mean to me after everything we've been through" is a whole lot more compelling & meaningful than "we've spoken all of like 2 words to each other for as long as we've known each other, and there has been 0 development of our actual relationship, but the group we're both a part of adheres to a traditional family structure, so he is, by definition, my brother."
449 notes
·
View notes
I'm completely obsessed with and emo over the way Wilhelm carries himself now that he knows Simon loves him, too.
(just a sidenote, but the duality of love and devotion towards Simon on one side and revolt and confident deviance towards everyone watching him, including us on the other.... these frames make me unwell...)
Like, that's absolutely the stance and face (and smile) of someone who's done with putting his own and his boyfriend's (!!!) needs behind those of the people who never cared about what he actually wanted.
Knowing him and Simon are on the same page now, finally, really is all he needs to face off against the consequences of living authentically and openly. He knows that together, they'll be fine.
I'd like to think his resistance is starting here already, facing off Jan-Olof with this stare and not pulling away as fast as Simon - who after all just offered to be Wilhelm's secret - is.
It's so beautiful to see how much this has done for him in the S3 snippet. I feel like it's the first time he's moving like he's not a stranger on his own home anymore, like he's now commanding the place, like he's finally calling the shots. Sure, there are and there will be adversities (“I just wish it wasn't because of this”), but Wilhelm won't let them get in the way of him and Simon loving and supporting each other.
“They won't start without us” He knows it's true and really isn't giving a fuck anymore who might get mad at them, he knows that they won't be able to play this down, make him deny everything again, they can't take back his confession in front of every single phone in all of Hillerska, and he won't let them try to, either. He's ready to fight, that revolution they started back in season 1 is now really picking up, and they're in it together.
And god, it looks like it's healing him so much, he's so confident now, Simon by his side really gave him the strength he needed.
Like, the journey from the way he's desperately holding on to him at the confession, seemingly drinking it all in, those words he probably hasn't even dared dreaming of hearing from Simon and do taken aback by his emotions to the way he exudes confidence, strength, and conviction even in the face of adversity... the development is so beautiful.
The combination of love and confidence is one hell of a drug, and Wilhelm gets both from and through Simon... I'm convinced they are going to be one hell of a power couple this next season.
203 notes
·
View notes