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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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@damianwayneweek Day 3 (6-15): “That wasn’t supposed to happen” | Reconciling with Tim | Autistic!Damian

Note: at this point, this is just "Damian cries and Dick hugs him" week. Someone send help. I love these two so much.

Warnings: angst and tears and Damian being a ball of separation anxiety.

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The smell of sea salt mixed with the pollution of Gotham's coast is almost close to nauseating. If Damian hadn't already been feeling anxious and sick to his stomach, he would definitely be now.

And the thing is, he doesn't even know why.

It's been this way all night. It started before tonight, even. He's convinced himself it's probably something he had for lunch, but even a child would know that's a weak grasping of straws. No one ever gets sick from the food made in the Wayne Manor, not when Alfred is there to cook it.

But he tells himself it's because of that anyways. He feels sick to his stomach because the lettuce in his sandwich must have been old. Not for any other reason. And certainly not because his father has been off-world for the past month and Richard is once again holding the mantle of Batman while he's away.

"What do you say about heading home early?" Richard asks from where he stands besides Damian. The word home grates on Damians nerves for reasons that he... cannot bring himself to comprehend.

Damian nods his head, not saying anything. It's been a quiet night in Gotham anyways. His nerves feel fried from the constant anxiety pressing in his chest and he's sure the moment he gets to his bed he'll pass out.

Or at least stare blankly at the ceiling until he does.

The ride back to the manor is silent between Damian and Richard. Almost a month ago, it used to be loud with banter whenever he and Richard had a minute to themselves. They'd get back at the manor and Alfred would be there to pester them into taking care of themselves. Cassandra and Duke would enter and leave as they wished with the occasional appearances of Timothy and Jason. The only time they had to themselves was inside the batmobile, as there's not much private banter you can have while defending the streets either.

But it's silent now. Damian's chest and stomach hurts and no words seem to want to come to his throat, but he's not usually the one to start the conversations anyways. Something is keeping Richard silent as well. The thought that, for whatever reason, Richard doesn't want to talk to him makes his anxiety spike just the same as the thought of conversation.

It feels like the second they pull into the cave Damian's jumping out of the car and stalking towards the changing rooms. Alfred let's him stride past, lifting an eyebrow as he does, but he doesn't stop him. Alfred simply walks over towards Richard and offers him a cup of tea from the metal tray he's been holding.

Damian can hear the low rumble of words beginning to be exchanged between the two, but he's already too far away to make sense of them. He doesn't care to listen anyways. He just wants to get dressed and go to bed without anyone talking to him.

Without anyone asking him what's wrong. They must notice something is wrong, right? What would he say if they do ask? No. No one knows anything is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.

He dresses into a clean pair of pajamas that feel fresh from the dryer and heads straight towards the exit of the batcave, not sparing Richard or Alfred a glance as he does so.

Everything is okay. He ate something bad for lunch.

That's all.

He manages to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. Cassandra and Duke must be busy tonight, and he can't think of any reason why Timothy and Jason would be here at this hour of night. It's not surprising he didn't run into anyone. Why does he almost wish he had?

He shakes his head and closes the door behind him. Whatever is making him feel this way, it will go away if he rests. He's sure of it.

Wordlessly and single-mindedly, he removes the decorative pillows from his bed and pulls down the sheets. In a few practiced and fluid movements, he's under the covers and glaring at the ceiling, his stomach clenching.

There's glow in the dark stars above him, made of plastic and held to the ceiling with fun-tak. His eyes drift to a bigger glowing figure, it's circular and there's swirling patterns that mimic the global storm of Jupiter's surface. Another has two rings, like the planet in Treasure Planet.

Richard put them up the second month after Damian first came here. Damian had expressed... desires... to study and learn how kids who weren't raised in the League of Assassins lived. Glow in the dark stars was something Richard very much enjoyed getting off of Amazon that night, saying they were all the craze when he was younger. Every friend he visited had them in their bedrooms. His own childhood bedroom still has some old and dim ones hanging on the ceiling from when he convinced his father to get him some.

He didn't understand the appeal of them then. Nor does he now. Perhaps it's something to do with children in Gotham never seeing the actual stars because of the light pollution. All he knows is that in the desert he grew up in... these fake green plastic decorations do not compare to the galaxy he used to see as if the only thing separating him from the universe was a single pane of glass.

He turns away from the fake stars, closing his eyes, before they open again to glare now at his bookshelf, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and Cheese Viking figurines. There's a collectable coin there too, one Richard accidentally won way back when he decided to buy a mystery box from some website. It turned out to be pretty rare. He gave it to Damian and Damian got curious enough to look up the game.

It's his favorite game now. Because Richard found him a random gold coin.

Richard. His stomach clenches. Why won't it stop hurting? He has no reason to be this anxious.

No reason at all.

There's a soft knock on his door. Damian shifts so he's holding himself up on his elbows, watching as the door opens to reveal none other than Richard. His hair looks damp from a shower, which makes Damian wonder how long he's been glaring at random things in his room. He's dressed in an old Gotham Knight's tee-shirt with mustard stains around the right breast. Damian went to a game with him when he was wearing that shirt. He accidentally got shoved into Richard in the crowd, looking for their seats, when Richard was holding a hotdog. It got all over him, but the mustard is the only thing that persisted multiple rounds in the washer.

"Dami? You up?" Richard asks. Damian reaches over and turns on the dim lamp by his bedside.

Richard's eyes settle on him, and he smiles. It looks strained though.

That festering, lingering anxiety spikes.

"What is it?" He asks.

Richard walks into the room, then sits down on the side of Damian's bed. Damian bends his knees to allow room for him. He brings his pillow in front of his body and hugs it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question shocks Damian, as he didn't mean to ask it. It seems to startle Richard as well, because he goes stock still and looks at Damian with wide eyes.

It shocks them both, but it must be the reason if a bad lunch isn't.

Then, Richard breaks into soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was about to ask the same thing, actually," he says, once the laughter dies down.

Damian frowns. Has Richard done anything wrong?

No. The answer is immediate. Richard hasn't done a single thing wrong. He's been nothing but his usual annoying and loud and pushy and kind and loving self since his father left and he came to keep the suit warm.

It almost feels like the beginning all over again. Waking up in the morning and smelling sweetened mocha instead of straight black coffee. Sketching in the afternoons by the fireplace in the family room and being interrupted by Richard barging in with a portable speaker, blasting the newest trending pop song. Going to bed with a goodnight hug. Bandaids snuck into Alfred's first aid supply that have cartoon and Disney characters designs. He's wearing a Frozen 2 bandaid now, on his knee.

If his father hadn't left with the rest of the Justice League, the band-aid would be a normal tan color and the day would be close to silent and alone.

It's feeling normal again, he realizes with horror. Because whatever mood Richard brings into the manor isn't normal. Normal is Bruce Wayne silently checking up on him throughout the day and calmly helping him with homework and giving tips on sketching techniques. Normal is leaning against the strong shoulder of his father as he tests those tips while his father reads a book, the only sounds to interrupt them being the ticking clock on the wall and the crackling of the fire.

Normal is... Normal isn't...

It's not this. He likes the time he spends with his father. He enjoys the wordless love and reassuring squeezes to his shoulder.

Normal isn't the loudness and silliness of Richard's affection.

And just like that, he finally knows what's wrong.

It feels the same as it used to be. Back when they thought his father was dead. Back when Richard seemed to be the only trusted adult in his life, and the daily interactions he had with him almost promised to be infinite.

And then they found out his father was still alive, just stuck in time. With the help of Timothy and others... They managed to bring him back.

And.

And Richard left.

And Damian was left.

And.

And that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He hasn't allowed himself to think about much. It was something neither of them had acknowledged or mentioned. Richard once said he considered adopting Damian if his father was dead. Damian didn't stop himself from taking comfort in that.

And it feels like history is repeating itself. His father is away. Richard is Batman.

However, now Damian knows that the second his father returns, Richard will be packing his bags and leaving. This isn't normal. He can't get used to this again. He loves his father. But Richard...

It hurt enough the first time, watching him go.

And it will happen all over again. He'll get comfortable with Richard and his daily hugs and laughter, and then he'll be gone.

Separation anxiety. He has separation anxiety.

"Oh buddy," Richard coos, wrapping his arms around Damian and bringing him to his lap to hold him better.

He's crying. Tears are running down his face and it's stupid, because he knows that when Richard leaves again, it won't be like he'll never see him again.

But he's crying, and it hurts. Hurts more than if he had eaten something bad. He clutches to the pillow between them and let's the tears fall.

"Tell me what's wrong," Richard soothes, probably the only person in the entire universe to not freak out when he cries. Probably the only person in the entire universe Damian would allow himself to cry like this to. "What can I do to help?"

"It's stupid," Damian says, through it's through a hiccupping sob, which makes it sound very not stupid to someone like Richard. He sniffs and rubs his eyes on the pillow, forcing his breathing to go normal and to stop crying. "It's nothing. Father will come back, and- and you'll go back to Blüdhaven, and everything will be normal again."

Richard stills, then sighs. "So it's about that," he says softly. Of course he immediately knows what Damian means. He tightens his hold on Damian. "You know when your dad comes back, nothing will change between us, right? Even if we're on the opposite side of the world."

"I don't want to be on the opposite side of the world," Damian snaps, shoving himself away from Richard and glaring. "I want- I don't-" he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

Dick is silent, then he shifts closer and wraps his arm around Damian's shoulder gently. "I know. I don't either. But... it's just the way things have to be. You know this. Just like you know that... that if you ever really want to, I can clean out my guest room."

Damian shakes his head, his feelings feeling so all over the place and raw. "I just- when father came back, I didn't expect you to just leave. I don't want to choose. I-"

"I know," Richard whispers. "I know. I love Bruce. He's my dad too. But, you know us. If I move back in, we'll be at each other's throats. I'm a grown man now, Dami. I have to be on my own. He's... Protective. He still sees me as seventeen years old. And he's your father. You should be with him."

Damian sniffs. He doesn't nod. He doesn't shake his head. Agree nor disagree.

Simply understands.

It's just the way things are.

He stays silent as Richard continues. "And you know that I'll always be there for you, if you need me. I'll drop everything for you. Just say the word. I'll be running, even if I'm on the other side of the world."

Now Damian nods. Let's the cotton of his pillowcase soak up his silent tears.

He doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't feel so awful anymore either. He supposes that's the best it will get in this situation.

So he just sits there until his head begins to dip with exhaustion and Richard pulls him in so he's laying against his shoulder. His eyelids droop, and they stay there, together, like they used to.

It's scary to allow himself to become attached to things, but he can never help himself with Richard.

The best that he can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of it.

Richard will be gone when father comes home, but for now he's here, and he's warm, and he's solid.

Damian falls asleep, and Richard doesn't leave that night.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #jin writes #fanfiction #dc comics

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firerose · 3 years

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Dark Leo -Dark seven au part2

@reading0mens Hope you enjoy it, I put a bit under read more because it’s kinda long XD

Leo‘s world is shattered after Jason‘s death

He knows it was a storm or fire

He knows that his cheating death caused the fates to take Jason away

At Jason‘s funereal he cries into Piper‘s shoulder

The boy that told him he was important, that made him believe he was worth something was gone

His sorrow makes him burst into flames and as Piper lets go he sinks over his friends grave

Things only got worse from there

He can‘t look at Calypso anymore

She was the reason he cheated death after all

He thinks about how she always complains about him, never truly helped him as Jason did

He goes back to Camp half-blood not caring that there is a battle coming for the Romans

He couldn‘t help them anyway

He locks himself in Bunker 9 building machines to distract himself from the cruel reality

Jason Grace was dead and he was alive

Calypso tries to get through to him but he yells at her that he regrets having saved her

He doesn‘t mean because of her of course but it is still her that he cheated death for

Calypso leaves in tears

Leo continues building and as his hands work on inventions his mind goes to Hera

Why didn‘t she save Jason?

He was her hero, wasn‘t he?

The bridge between greeks and Romans

So what kept her from saving him?

Anger begins to rage in him

Maybe Jason was just a tool for her

A weapon she could use and then forget

A scream breaks out of him and flames start floating over everything

He begins to despise the queen of Olympus just like he once hated Gea

At least Gea never acted like she wanted to protect them

He feels a desire to make Hera pay, to play with her just like she did with him

He knows that he can't take revenge on Hera all by himself Isn't there an emperor in new york

A plan starts to form in his head

Nyssa brings him the news

Camp Jupiter beat Caligula and Commodus now only Nero is left

The only change for Leo to take revenge on Hera

He leaves in the early morning

He is not nervous only strangely excited

Finding the emperor was not hard he could oversee the whole city on his metal dragon

„What do you want demigod?“, Nero asks coldly sitting on his throne arrogant as always

Leo only smiles darkly „I want to treat Hera just like she treated me and my friends.“

Nero has picked up many demigods from the streets but this one is special

He has an almost feral look in his eyes like he would be ready to burn the world

„And how exactly do plan to do that? Nero asks his voice full of curiosity

After hearing the plan Nero allows Leo to stay

He has a big room full of machines, engines automatons

Leo loves it

He builds robots small ones at first but his anger makes his talents grow

Somehow he manages to equip them with laser eyes ten arms that shoot fire canons, their fingers made of blades

He makes other inventions to ones that he prays to one day use on a certain goddess

A part of him is terrified of his work but another screams justice for Jason so he continues

Two weeks later Leo gives Hazel and Frank a surprise visit

They are happy to see him, they are his friends after all

Leo laughs with them, jokes as if everything was normal

One night he and Frank even mourn Jason together

When he feels real tears form in his eyes he is grateful for Franks hug

He can tell that Frank wants him to feel loved just like Jason once did

He is thankful and when Frank leaves his firewood feels heavy in Leo‘s hand

The next day horns are blowing, demigods scream in terror

A huge robot army is threatening to enter new Rome

The Legion is horrified but they swore to protect the city so they get ready for battle

None of them is showing their fear when they stand between the robots and their city

Reyna and Frank stand before their cohorts but Frank is not too worried

Those robots are made of metal and he sees in Hazel‘s smile that she knows this too

The daughter of Pluto raises her hand to save those she loves

But then a voice close to her speaks up coldly

„Hazel stop “, She almost did not recognize it

Leo stands a few feet away eyes gleaming darkly, Franks stick lays in his hand

Franks feels a cold dread in his stomach

„Leo…...what are you doing? Frank asks unable to hide his fear

Leo lets out a pained humourless laugh, I‘m destroying the god's ego by crashing their glorious temples.“ he explains and Hazel feels her heartbreak at his words

How is this the same boy who made her smile with his jokes

Reyna curses“ How dare you betray us? After Jason-“

Leo interrupts her with a mad shout

„That's exactly my point! Jason died because Hera for some reason refused to save him. We are all just puppets for the gods don‘t you see that!“I'm trying to save us from them but if you don‘t surrender now I will be forced to let you suffer for the god's crimes.“, Leo explains his tone almost hysteric

There is silence for a moment

The robots stand like dead status, new Rome's citizens glance towards them from behind the barrier, the roman soldiers are glaring at Leo

„Romans don‘t surrender.“, Frank finally responds his voice brave, his eyes full of pain

Leo smirks like he expected that answer

His whole body bursts into flame

Frank falls to the ground as his stick is swallowed by fire

Pain ignites in his heart, he hears Hazel‘s scream

He looks at his girlfriend a hand stretched towards her as if to hold her one last time

She stretches her hand towards him as well, her mouth moving as she sobs

A weak scream leaves his lips when a Robots blade impales her neck the blade coming out bloody at her throat

Her hand sinks, her body collapses into a puddle of her blood and Frank‘s world goes black

Leo stares at their unmoving bodies

The stick in his hands is now only ashes

He knows he should feel something

He should feel remorse

Instead, he just feels empty

The gods could have saved them but they didn‘t

If the gods would just be better he would not have done this

The gods are to blame not him

So he joins the massager

The demigods are fighting bravely but nothing prepared them to fight eight feet high machines

Blades are piercing through their bodies, the fire burns their flesh, dozens get trampled

Leo is in the middle of it all shooting fireballs burning everyone who gets too close

A fireball hits Reyna‘s hair and the Praetor is doomed to a firey cruel death

Soon the city falls, Terminus barrier is not strong enough to hold the metal beasts off

New Romes citizens are slaughtered in their streets, their buildings, temples destroyed

Their screams ring in Leo‘s ears but he continues to fight

This is for Jason. This is for Jason

He keeps using this excuse even though a part of him tells him that Jason wouldn‘t have wanted this

When Leo the last screams finally have died new Rome is in ruins

On Olympus, the gods are raging

Their pride has never been attacked like this

Hera looks at Leo wandering through the dead city with worry

He was her hero once just like Jason but now he seems …..changed

Maybe somehow she could convince him to come back to her

She is his grandmother after all

So she goes down to him in the form of his old babysitter

Leo growls when he sees he sees her

„Now you decide to show up? After I slaughtered thousands of People? Wow you are a horrible patron goddess!“, He snarls

Hera looks at him in pity

„Leo I know you are angry but this is madness. Jasons death was in the hand of the fates and I couldn‘t do anything sometimes even we gods are powerless. Don‘t go down this road my hero it will only bring you to suffering.“ Hera warns but that only makes Leo more furious.

They are standing in the smouldering ruins of her city and yet all she can do is makeup excuses

„You ……..you are so arrogant Hera! First, you act like my protector, my babysitter for years and then you don‘t even save my mother, then you give me fake memories about my best friend and then when I‘m finally growing closer to him you watch him die too. I bet if I hadn‘t killed Frank today you would have done it! Jason Frank and I were just pawns whose lives you controlled and that you now don‘t need anymore!“, Leo yells his hands balled into fists.

Hera listens to her face showing guilty embarrassment

She is too lost in thought, that is why she sees the net that Leo throws over her too late

The strings are made of celestial bronze but when she tries to escape the net only grows tighter cutting into her skin

Leo smiles at her in amusement.

„I hope you enjoy your new home your high majesty., He mocks

Hera realized that this was all part of his plan

Destroying new Rome to get her attention, louring her here so he could capture her

„Let me go immediately demigod or my wrath-“. She is cut off when Leo gags her

He has enough to listen of listening to her

He just wants to visit Jason's grave one last time

Leo returns to Nero with his army and with Hera

She is carried by one of the Robots trapped in metal strings

Nero welcome Leo with open arms

This child is a blessing even better than Meg Mc Caffrey

He tells Leo that he wants to wait with his attack on the greeks

He wants the news about camp Jupiter to reach them first

Leo agrees and grins at Hera

The goddess tries to change from even her real one but the strings only golden

„They drain your godly essence. The emperors are no strangers to dark magic Hera. You won‘t get out of here unless I allow it.“, Leo mocks once he has taken her to his room

The image of Her lying helpless and restrained on the ground gives him chills of joy

He picks out a knife from his toolbelt, Heras's eyes widen

„Now let's see how you like being hurt without someone there to help.“ Leo muses and drives the blade into the goddess's arm.

He smiles at the golden blood and Heras agonized groan

He is going to have so much fun with her

Leo almost feels disappointed when Nero tells him that it‘s time for the attack

By now all demigods know what happened

Chiron evacuated Camp half-blood taking the younger Campers to safety

Nero knows it‘s only a matter of time until the rest disappears to

So Leo and the emperor fly to Long island alone with Festus who hold Hera in his claws

The robots are deactivated until Leo's command, Nero wants to give his enemies hope of winning

A handful of Campers is already waiting for them at the top of Half-blood hill

Leo winces when he sees Percy and Nico

He had forgotten the people close to Frank and Hazel

„Surrender or face the same end as your roman friends!“, Nero demands

Percy spits to the ground

Nico gets out his sword his eyes piercing into Leo soul

„Do you think Jason still loves you after what you did Leo?“, Nico asks coldly

Leo‘s heart feels like it‘s torn apart

Nico‘s words are the truth in the back of his mind. The truth that his lust for revenge drowned out

Jason, sweet kind Jason would never love someone who killed his friends

Leo feels panic, he has to move forward he has to distract himself from his thoughts

„Let that be my concern.“, Leo spats and drops Hera to the ground

Her body is covered in deep cuts, golden blood covers the strings

The attack begins

Leo decides to take out Percy first

He shoots fire but Percy uses the lake to his advantage

Water and fire clash together in the air squishing as they meet

Leo gets more furious

He creates big flames that lit the threes next to Percy on fire, tiny flames to grasp Percy‘s hair

Percy seems to be prepared for everything

He protects himself with shields of water and creates tentacles in an attempt to drag Leo to the ground

Their fight is hard, full of hatred and so none of them notices Nico‘s fight against Nero

Until the emperor screams while he's being sucked into the earth

Neros household, all young brainwashed demigods panic and run

Leo yells in frustration

Why did he choose such bad allies?

Nico collapses from the uses of his underworld powers, the grass around him black

Leo wants to take his chance and flames flicker from his hand#

But then a big hand of water grabs him and lifts him off his dragon

Leo is taken by surprise but soon blind rage follows

„Now!“, He hears Percx yell and when he turns his head he sees Annabeth cutting Heras net with Nico‘s stygian sword

Desperation and fear will Leo

„No please!“, He Beggs but Percy drops him on the ground without mercy

Hera although wounded immediately grows to full size her eyes blazing with fury

„I WARNED YOU MY HERO NOW FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS.“Hera yells her form glowing

„No wait!“, Percy says his eyes widened in shock

Leo knows what is coming, he has seen it once before

Tears of sorrow, of fear, of anger stream down his cheeks

He wonders if Hades will let him see Jason again after he murdered his daughter

In a last attempt to turn his fate he reaches for his toolbelt

But then he stops

How can he destroy the greeks after they took him in after they tried to make him belong somewhere?

His thoughts wander to Piper and his heart is split by deep guilt

Leo Valdez opens his eyes and stares right into the godly flames that even he can‘t survive

His last thought is a prayer of forgiveness to all he has killed in his path for revenge

Leo is buried at Camp half-blood

There are a lot of discussions about it but no one can think of a better place

Hera assures the Campers that in a few years there will be new roman demigods

This does not help the losses though

Percy and Annabeth spend many nights crying with each other about their lost friends, their lost future

Will has to hold Nico for countless nights too, Has to remind him that he always will be there for him

Apollo becomes a god again

And in California Piper Mclean cries out her prayers to the gods

She prays for them to free her out of these new fake mist reality

She prays for them to let her wake up in a world where her best friends are still alive

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Honestly I wished Hoo went more into the fact that frank Jasons and Leos lives were all controlled by Hera! That would have been such an interesting dynamic!

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #dark!leo #dark seven #valgrace #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #trials of apollo #the burning maze

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miracle-sham · 3 years

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Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 3: Grave} |

| Soulmates, are a tricky thing. It's said they're the person who best fits you. Everyone goes through life with half of their Soulmate's soul beside them in the form of an animal that represents the soulmate. |

| Marinette always thoughts she'd get to meet her Soulmate and the other half of her soul one day, and now she never will. Jason never wanted to meet his soulmate or be reunited with the other half of his soul. And now, like Romeo and Juliet, they've truly become star-crossed Soulmates. |

| Word Count: 1,371. |

| Warnings/Tags: Soulmate Au, Major Character Death/Implied Death/Temporary Death/Not Really Dead, Death Related Injuries/Injury Recovery, Miscommunication, Loss of Soulmate, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language/Swearing, Starcrossed Soulmates, Wakes & Mentions of Funerary Customs/Traditions. |

———

| A/N: Okay so there's only one song on this one's playlist but c'mon, look my written words in the eyes and tell me that isn't the perfect Jasonette song. Yeah, exactly. Also Choo Choo dear readers, I'm back on the angst train. Grab your tissues and some liquid to hydrate yourself because if you aren't crying by the end of this, then I've failed my job <3 |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It isn't a grave. An important difference, Marinette thinks to herself hollowly. There's a dull pang in her chest, and the constant ache of all her many, many still healing injuries. She shouldn't be up and about yet, it's only been a day since she was discharged from hospital. Her parents and the doctors would have kittens. But Marinette needs to do this. And she's already crawled her way up to her balcony chair (though with a little miraculous help of course). Because it isn't a grave but it might as well be one.

It's a simple little thing really, and yet… Yet it's a lot of things.

A shrine, well an altar. On the half wall besides her balcony chair. It's a small stone slab with a lit incense holder in the middle, and a few lit candlesticks in each of the front two corners of the slab. Behind the incense holder, in the back two corners are two bouquets of marigolds, white lilies, and yellow and white chrysanthemums. And in front of the incense holder, is a single photo of her soulmate familiar and all that she has left of her soulmate; Buddy the german shepherd.

Five days ago, her soul bond shattered. Her soulmate familiar nearly shattered too. It was a miracle Buddy only fell into a pseudo-coma instead. Unlike her though, he's yet to wake up. And considering the situation, he may never. One of the doctors—a soulmate related injuries specialist—had said it's rare but not unheard of for that to happen when the human counterpart to their soul familiar dies. And the final damning nail in the coffin was Marinette's own soul familiar counterpart appearing at some point after she had fallen into the three day coma. After all, it's common knowledge that once a soulmate died, you become reunited with the other half of your soul—your soul familiar counterpart.

Marinette doesn't know what happened to her soulmate's body (if there even is one left, considering the injuries found on her and her soul familiar counterpart). Nor does she have any memorabilia or anything that once belonged to her soulmate. And she certainly doesn't know where he was from and if he would've had any preferred cultural funeral rites. So the best she can give him right now, are the typical funeral flowers her parents both recommended, alongside candles and incense. Somewhat plain and generic almost but it's something, and it's better than nothing.

She chokes back a sob and rubs at her red eyes. “It's not fair… I thought Ladybug's were supposed to be lucky.”

There's a faint pitter-patter and a few droplets splatter against the altar. She blinks and glances upwards, briefly wondering if it is starting to rain. But the cloudless sky is all an answer she needs, along with the realisation of dampness on her cheeks and hands. She blinks again, and a few more tears fall.

Tikki makes a small noise of sadness, and gives Marinette one of those tiny little hugs she always gives.

Still, the grief hurts. Marinette will never get to know who her soulmate was. His name, what he looked like, how he smiled, his accent, what he liked, his favourite things, any stupid habits or mannerisms.

And she will never get to know if her soulmate even has a grave already. She could always ask Tikki, she's right there. But the kwami is stressed enough as it is that Marinette fell comatose for three days and nearly died from the injuries inflicted on her soul familiar counterpart. And five days without a proper Ladybug (and not just Master Fu stepping in out of necessity) protecting Paris has started to visibly take its toll on Tikki.

So, Marinette's little altar isn't a grave but it's where she's burying her grief and wishing the ladybug miraculous could do something to fix this.

———

It's not a fucking grave. If Jason had a choice, he'll never let his soulmate be buried in one of those fuckers ever, y'know just in case she ever ends up like him and is forced to crawl out her own grave. But he hasn't got a fucking choice because who knows who or where his soulmate is and what happened to her after he became a dead robin.

Well other than the fact, she's un-fucking-doubtedly dead and it's all his fucking fault, obviously. It's been six months since he crawled out his grave, and Talia had said the Lazarus Pit could heal broken soul bonds and soulmate familiars that died with the soulmate. Clearly fucking wrong seeing as his bond is still shattered as fuck and there's been no sign of Jules—the naturally shifting little soulmate familiar he used to adore. The kinda weird and scrappy looking calico tabby kitten that according to the internet was a cornish rex, that would sometimes shift into an even tinier, very round and fluffy hamster.

And Jason's spent enough time on the streets as a kid to know what happens to the human counterpart when their soul familiar counterpart snuffs it. If he's lucky, she'll be in a coma and will never wake up. And if he's unlucky, then she'll be six feet under like he was. Either way, she's paying for his fuck ups and deserves way better.

A small part of him wonders if that makes them star-crossed lovers. Like a reverse Romeo and Juliet—fucking ironic considering R&J were the inspiration behind Jules' name. He died, and came back only to find irrefutable evidence that his soulmate's dead—or might as well be—because of him dying first, and she'll never know he survived dying.

“It's not fair!” Jason snarls at his fate, vision staining green for a split second. He grits his teeth and glares down at the little altar he's set up in the corner of his room in whatever league of assassins' compound this is. It's got a single lit candle in each corner of the altar—a substitute for how there's supposed to be a burning candle at each corner of a coffin. Still doesn't make it a fucking grave though.

There's also a few bunches of flowers scattered across the middle of the altar—mostly marigolds, with a few white lilies, a couple black roses, a single pheasant's-eye, and a small handful of asphodels. It hadn't been easy to get them, especially since he couldn't exactly leave the compound yet. But Jules and his soulmate deserved this at least.

Marigolds for grief, white lilies more for the funeral staple than the meaning, black roses for death and mourning, pheasant's-eye for painful recollections, and asphodels for my regrets follow you to the grave.

Fucking ironic, seeing as it's on altar and not a grave.

The worst fucking part of being here, was losing Jules. The one fucking constant in his shitty life. Batman replacing him fucking stung alright, and he's never particularly cared for soulmates, yeah. He's seen and heard more than plenty horror stories growing up, and considering how small and cute Jules is, no way would've his soulmate survived Gotham. It's not like he cared too much about meeting her or whatever, but she was fucking innocent and now she's fucking dead. So yeah, she gets asphodels on her altar because he regrets being the reason she and Jules got shattered.

And the pheasant's-eye, well Talia and all the fucking assassins in this hell hole aren't giving him the chance to hold a wake for either of them. And it's not like he knows shit about her or has anything of hers to sit on the altar. He hasn't even got anything left of Jules 'cept his fucking memories. So all he can really do is recount his own memories of her to himself. Maybe he should write 'em down in a book or something…

All in all, it ain't a fucking grave. But it might as well be one because it's where he's burying his memories and feelings. After all, an assassin without a soulmate familiar, or a soulmate, is a lot harder to kill. 'Least he's got that going for him now. But Jules and his soulmate still didn't fucking deserve dying only for him to survive alone.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Quick reasons behind the Soul Familiar names and species, whilst I know Jason canonically is bad at naming, he's also a literature nerd so hence why he called his soulmate's familiar Juliet, also because it shifts form he can't call it Cat or Hamster. The hamster is because well this is half of Marinette's soul, let's be real, and the cat is because Calicos are seen as lucky and also I thought a Cornish Rex because they're highly intelligent, active, and affectionate and I think that fits Marionette pretty well. As for why Marinette has Buddy, it's purely because Jason reminds me of a German Shepherd and I feel Marinette would've wanted to become friends with her Soulmate as soon as she understood it as a kid, so hence the name buddy. It's not fully accurate to her canon naming skills, but that doesn't matter. |

| If you've been around since the early days of my Maribat/MLB Tumblr side acc, then this premise might sound familiar. Yeah, you've guessed it! It's the Jasonette version of my MTSPY au (rip, I'll get to writing it one day, maybe), aka/originally called LYLaLYL or Lose Your Love and Lose Your Life. I decided since I love the au but I want to re-use a lot of it but with some minor to significant changes. Anyway, if those au names are familiar/you've been around for my last year's content, then here have a virtual hug from me! 🫂 If you can't see this emoji, it's the weird two blue humanoid blobs hugging emoji. Yeah. |

| On a sidenote if there's an obvious difference in writer's voice for the end/beginning notes, tags, and summary, that's because I'm writing this very sleep deprived at 4am and may have gone slightly feral. Yeah. Don't do what I'm doing, get some sleep folks. Half the tags were written at the much more reasonable hour of ten to midnight instead though. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 3 #Jasonette July Grave #Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls #MMCOSS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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nocluewhatsupg · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for Michael? Little stabby stalking boy? Please and thank you <3 i really like your take on these characters

since we stan Laurie Strode in this house all of these headcanons will be making fun of that bastard Mitch.

we say that Miguel’s spookiness comes from a mixture of natural serial killer and supernatural being, and we’ll give headcanons that hint to both sides (because Mickey’s nature is much more interesting when it’s unknown ;] ).

Mica Myers HCs

With Michael, it’s the same issue we met with writing Jason, that being Micheal doesn’t actually have any sort of personality besides staring at Laurie and being a bastard. (or having a weird boner, if you’ve read the novelization)

The only way we see anyone befriending him is if they meet him during his childhood. Becoming the boogeyman was a slow but steep decline into madness, and he was a somewhat normal child in the beginning.

As a child, he was quiet. He talked, even if he didn’t know it, when it profited him. He did not search for socialization, nor did he seek acceptance from his peers.

In the novel, it is mentioned that the weeks leading up to Michael murdering Judith, he had begun peeing his bed. (fucking nerd) Interestingly, the Macdonald triad is a set of three factors that were most commonly found in serial killers when they were children, one of which included pissing their pants along with arson and cruelty to animals (man eats dog meat. point proven). Two of the three factors must be present to lead to criminally violent behavior, and since we see Micheal murder and consume dogs, and have never seen him set something on fire on purpose, he 100% pissed his fucking bed. Since this triad (although outdated now) was suggested in the 1963, before the movie had come out and thus existed to be of interest/reference to either Carpenter himself or to the directors fleshing out Michael’s character, Michael most likely canonically pissed his bed like a little bitch. (source: dude who cares this is a headcanon about michael pissing his bed)

Back to his childhood, he most likely took out his frustrations on animals. It wasn’t that he had a particularly large amount of stress (the opposite, since part of Michael’s horror is that he came from a perfectly good childhood), it was that he simply didn’t know how to deal with it normally. With an already tainted mind from birth, he decided that murder was just the solution to all of his problems.

He didn’t collect the animals he killed. Occasionally, he’d take the bloody messes of feathers and fur and reposition them. In the beginning, it was to hide what he’d done, but as the years went on and he stayed under the radar he became far more creative. Michael would gingerly replace the carcasses where he found them. Then, that too grew boring and he settled on leaving the animals on sidewalks or on the streets, running back to the safety of his home and smiling as people walking looked down and gasped.

Michael might have also taken out some of this exaggerated aggression on his classmates. While he didn’t specifically go out of his way to harm them, he wasn’t afraid to encourage them to stay away. He was fond of twisting other’s arms and pinning them against their backs, then pulling up so sharply he nearly broke their arms. When questioned, he would smile charmingly, flutter his long eyelashes, and with a sweet voice he’d assure teachers he had no clue what they were talking about. While his classmates would survive the encounter, they never would forget how Michael wouldn’t react to their cries of pain, and how chillingly stoic he was during the whole ordeal.

Judith thought it was odd how distant her little brother was from her, but she didn’t really care. It was less she had to hang around her childish sibling, and more time she had to herself. While Michael did nothing to befriend her, he did expect her to treat him with priority. When she didn’t, since she couldn’t read his mind, Judith would awaken to a dead mouse hanging from the doorknob to her room.

As expected, he was close to Cynthia from the moment she was born. He hovered around her crib until he was shooed out of his parent’s room to allow her rest, and scooted his chair closer to hers at the dinner table. Cynthia herself was indifferent to Michael’s presence, cooing and fussing just as a normal baby would. She would reach up curiously, and wrap her small hand around his finger, and he would freeze on the spot. The look in his eyes were chalked up to brotherly love, but after Judith’s murder, his parents weren’t so sure it was love they hope for.

It doesn’t really matter what specifically happened to Michael during his stay at Smith’s Grove, because it’s most likely that he didn’t do anything of interest. Of course, cruel and ignorant staff played a big part, but even without the neglect it was most likely Michael would grow to the murderous man he became either way.

Probably watched those shitty soap operas whose plot is 95% mindless filler. He watched them religiously once he discovered them by accident, every single night on the dot he’d stride into the common room, take his place on the ratty sofa, and watch. Oh, you were watching something else? Do you want to keep your head attached to your body?

He didn’t even have to threaten anyone. Michael got his way from intimidation.

Since Michael (presumably) wasn’t caught after his first and second movie chaos, it’s safe to assume his injuries were never properly cleaned. After his hype to kill Laurie died down, he promptly collapsed on the ground and passed out until the directors wanted to refurnish their kitchens and brought him back to the big screen for easy cash. Not only did he most likely did not have the slightest clue how to properly care for his wounds, he probably didn’t care. So Michael smells like ass because he doesn’t shower, and because he most likely had an infection.

In murder mode, physical ailments would never stop him. Outside of stalking, stabbing, or strangling, it was a different story. His chest, arms, and stomach burned. Michael’s head swarmed with a persistent fever. Since he spent most of his time in a dream, he doesn’t physically look fatigued. He refused to show weakness, but he couldn’t shake the stumble he occasionally carried. Not to mention he smells like a rotting carcass.

Will stab the wall in warning, glaring at you as eight inches of sharp steel punctured another hole. Goes out of his way to stab at really awkward angles, so it’s difficult for you to cover it up.

Last but not least, we leave you with a final line from the novel that we cherish so much, written from Michael’s POV while he stalks Annie:

#pinning sexualities to slashers #especially one like Michael #is super shitty and ruins the mystery of who he is and why he kills. last HC was memes #slasher #slasher community #slashers #michael myers #halloween #halloween 1978 #slasher fandom #michael myers x reader #slasher x reader

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Note

In honor of your new name is there a chance you could do something jercy related with this prompt?

I have fought wars, brought gods to their knees, leveled cities yet my greatest achievement was making you smile

Hello sweet Anon💖this prompt made me so very happy and I hope my little drabble satisfies your heart!

This is dark. Like maybe the darkest I've ever gone so:

TW: violence, death, torture. Please proceed with caution.

That being said there is a little "We are each other’s and that is enough" fluff at the end so I hope you enjoy that!

Masterlist

Anyway please enjoy!

Percy swipes his hand across his pants, ridding himself of the blood dripping down his fingers. These unfortunate souls had been squealers and while he usually preferred the beggers, he was amused nonetheless. The dust finally settles and he can see the delightful destruction that surrounds him.

He's not sure he'll ever get tired of it. The bloodlust. The carnage. The deathly quiet that surrounds him after a battle. He slowly steps down from the concrete platform and picks his way over bodies and rubble. A soft rustle sounds from behind him and he freezes. Dead people don't move. Taking a deep breath, filling up his lungs, he turns around. His faces morphs into something wicked, sinful, evil.

"Hello," He smiles at the twitching hand, trailing it till he sees a face.

The person makes a strangled noise and he wants to laugh. Their face is distorted with pain, dust and debris like glitter in their hair and a broken leg, bone sticking out like a stake.

He hunches down till he can see their dark brown eyes and the little scar through their eyebrow. "You're in pain." It's not a question but they attempt to nod anyway.

He brushes the back of his hand across their cheeks and hides a grin at the hot tears.

"Please," They gasp, "Please help me."

He chuckles low and throaty, "Did I not do this to you?"

A sob wracks their body, "Please. I have a family. Friends who are counting on me."

He barks out a laugh and it sounds like crunching gravel in the quiet dusk.

"You don't understand. My girlfriend is waiting for me. My mom—" They break off wincing. He realizes at least one, if not two of their ribs are broken.

"We can do this quickly," He shrugs, "Or, my personal favourite, we can drag it out." He rolls the words over his tongue.

"Please. Have you no mercy?" They cry.

"I did once," He smiles, and it is the memories of war that make his green eyes glow. "But when you are given no mercy, you run out of any to give."

They whimper, lips trembling, head shaking as if their body is rejecting their fate.

"So," He grins, looks at the cotton candy sky. His husk of a heart clenches with longing. "Have you decided how you want to do this?"

"I think," A laughing voice from behind them says, "We should do it quickly so you and i can get out of here."

He freezes at that voice, those words. It can't be. He doesn't want to turn around in case it's not real. He doesn't want that disappointment.

"Not even a 'hello,' Jackson?"

Percy's entire body goes slack. And then he's whipping around and slamming straight into a hard warm body. "You're here." He chokes. He presses himself further into those hard plains, runs his fingers over expanding ribs. The smell of storms and life surrounds him and he wants to live in this embrace.

"Why are you here? I thought you were on the otherside of...."

Jason Grace pulls back to pin his lightning blue eyes on Percy, "I was done early. I wanted to see you."

"I missed you so much." He holds in the tears threatening to erupt.

"I missed you more." The blonde gives a soft smile, brushing his thumb across an angular jaw.

A strangled noise interrupts their moment and Percy decides that infernal human will die for it. Painfully. Before anyone can blink he is stepping out of Jason's embrace and standing over the dying body. He dances his fingers in the air and watches as their limbs bend. Their cries ring like music in his ears.

"I was going to let you go easily." He sighs, "But then you interrupted us." He cracks their arm in half and they scream so loud it rings in his head.

"Please!"

"Should have thought about this before distracting me from my love."

"PLEASE!"

He cracks another bone and let's the blood flow from the pierced skin in a wave. It is dark and rich and floats over their body like a maroon blanket of death.

"Percy," Jason breathes. And he looks over to see blue eyes as dark as sapphires, lust crackling like lightning in them.

"You are sick." He laughs and there is seduction wrapping around his throat.

"Please hurry up so we can go." The blonde's voice is nothing but whispers and temptation.

He turns back to his victim, "His wish is my command."

And with a grin that ruins light the Son of Poseidon slams the body into the earth and ends their long lasting suffering.

"Are you ready my love?"

Percy intertwines their fingers, skin the colour of earth and gold pressing into each other. "Take me to the stars Jase."

So Jason wraps his arms around him and pushes of the ground into the night sky.

They fly past the levelled village and the dying fires caused by raucous, terrified people. The Son of Jupiter sticks his hand out as they go over and the wind snuffs out the embers. The last light that proved a civilization once stood there. Percy feels no remorse. He doesn't owe anyone a reason for the destruction he inflicts. Because the world did not give him one when it destroyed him.

"I am here." The arm wrapped around him gives a reassuring squeeze.

"I know." He nuzzles into a golden neck.

"You got into your head again." He can hear the frown, the worry.

"How do you always know?" There is no-one else, no other being on earth that he loves more than Jason Grace. That he trusts more. No-one else he'd live for.

"I can feel your heart against mine." The blonde says, shrugging his shoulders.

"And how do you know it wasn't your heart?" He is teasing.

Jason answers seriously anyway, "Because when I am with you my heart beats as steadily as the rain." A smile blooms soft and true on his beautiful face.

Every nerve in Percy's body sets itself on fire. He is the unwavering granite of the earth, and the encompassing air, and the rush of water, and he is fire. "I have fought wars, brought gods to their knees, leveled cities yet my greatest achievement is making you smile."

The blonde doesn't say anything as they fly across the world, amongst the stars, to the moon. And then they're going down towards a little island. Before he can blink he is sinking into the sand. Jason releases him slightly so they're staring into each other. He cups his cheeks and presses their foreheads together.

"I love you Percy Jackson. I love your darkness. I love your eyes. I love your smile. And most importantly I love your heart."

Percy cannot breathe, cannot form words, doesn't know what language is. When he first became this monster the Son of Jupiter had reveled in his corruption, stared at him with awe, pulled him close and said "Show me again."

They had demolished worlds, had torn gods apart till the rivers were gold, had made symphonies out of screams but it was this, this softness that made him weak.

"You are my light in the darkness." The Son of Poseidon whispers.

And when their lips meet universes come alive. And shadows dance in the night.

#Dark!Percy #Dark percy #Jercy #Baby fanfic #PJJG fanfic #PJJG asks #Anon requests #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #Jason #Grace #Percy #Jackson #not edited

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Love like poison

Soo... I did that, huh. I have no excuses, I was sad, so now you’re all sad with me.

Warnings: angst. Hurt. Hospitals. Puking. Blood.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He can’t breath.

He had always been scarily good at deception, Dick thinks blandly. His heart is screaming, and crying, and being torned apart, but his mind is strangely steady. A calm voice, sounding all too much like Bruce when he just became his ward and was hounded by panic attack after panic attack, reminded him of his- their options.

But it was hard, to listen to that part of himself. Hard to remember they still had time, Tim wasn’t dead yet, they still could…

Tim coughed again, and a waterfall of belladonnas, nightshades and clematis spilled into the ground.

(Danger, artifice and death. Whoever it was Tim loved, they couldn’t be worth this pain, if those were the flowers they filled him with)

Fully bloomed and bloodstained. This wasn’t a new disease; it had been left to fester inside the young man for too long, and now…

Now Tim couldn't breath.

Everything else took a backseat as he rushed towards him, falling into his knees by his side in the Cave’s cold floor, screaming for Alfred, Bruce… for help.

-.-.-.-.-.-

He had been forced into bed rest. No one would budge, no matter how much he complained.

Then-

-I’ve been going out with Hanahaki for as long as I’ve been a vigilante; this is nothing.

Alfred had to leave the room. Bruce’s face had spasmed and closed, emotions tightly locked inside. Jason punched a hole through the wall and stormed off after the butler.

Damian had clutched Dick’s hand as he watched his intubated brother. It’d be forever their secret, how the youngest boy’s hands had trembled.

Tim just coughed again, and fell asleep clutching a bouquet of foxgloves and dogbane. Tucked in by insincerity and deception.

Dick could only cry the night away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-I refuse.

Those two words stop the word in its axis. Hearts refuse to beat, birds quieten their singing, and it seems the wind itself stops howling, breath held in wait of the punchline. Of the explanation. Of the apology.

Tim offers none. Just looks outside the window and repeats his decision once the doctor enters to check the reason for Jason’s yelling.

Their begs go ignored. Their anger, scoffed at. Their cries produce little more than a sigh.

Tim asks the nurse for a bucket and pukes a river of deathly flowers, seams and all. She pats his back in comfort and looks at them with pity in her eyes, because Tim is no longer a minor, they can’t force his hand, and the staff are under oath to respect the patient's wishes.

Hyacinths. Please forgive me.

I can’t forgive a corpse, he wants to say. He can’t- it wouldn’t be heard over Jason’s screams, or his own sobs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tim signs the documents Lucius hands him with trembling hands. Dick has to steady him and hold his body upright, and press a handkerchief to his pale lips when he can’t keep the coughs inside any longer and spills fully bloomed oleander on the fabric. He’s careful that no drop of blood falls in the papers.

Distrust. He’s worried about the future of Wayne Enterprises, now that he’d no longer be at the helm.

Dick wants to shake him, shake him until he coughs out all the flowers, all the love, all the death. Until his lungs are free and his head is set straight. Until his cheeks flush again, his eyes get their shine back, and he’s warm and living once more.

Wants to shake him as if he could spit his little brother out, along with the plants and blood. The little brother he basically raised, protected, mentored, loved. The one he’s about to lose.

He doesn’t. Wonders when, exactly, did he stop fighting for him.

And when did Tim stop fighting for himself?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cass and Steph had arrived two weeks after Tim’s hospitalization. They'd been deep undercover, and Bruce’s emergency call hadn’t reached them until just then.

When they stormed into Tim’s private rooms, the Wayne family felt a shadow of hope blossoming in their hearts. Was it Steph? They had been together a while ago, maybe Tim’s feelings had remained and he thought hers were gone. Maybe they weren’t, and they could…

Tim’s face didn’t turn wistful, but guilty.

Cass’s hand took his, and Stephanie’s fingers combed his hair away from his forehead. She retrieved a petal from within the locks; hydrangea. Thank you for understanding.

They knew?

The betrayal stung, but Dick forced himself into calmness before analyzing them better. Cass was the one who looked regretful but resigned. Stephanie, while carefully silent, was still despairing enough that he knew this was news for her as well. Maybe her partner had put her up to speed during their trip here?

And his sister… Tim had backed her up from the beginning, when both he and Batman distrusted her past. He had stood up for her and she had always been careful to repay him in kind. There was no point in getting mad at her now.

Dick just hoped their bond would be enough for her to convince him to take the damned operation now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Conner Kent arrives one afternoon, grim faced but unsurprised. Dick suspects he’s known for a long time now, and hates him a little for not telling them. Not doing anything before Tim started choking on dangerously full bloomed plants.

Bruce must have been beyond himself with helplessness, if he called him. Dick’s own despair is the only reason he doesn’t punch him in his invulnerable jaw.

They left the room (some of them for the first time in days) when Conner asks, because they are just that desperate.

Tim and Conner talk around the issue, never saying any name, because they aren’t dumb enough to ignore the possibility of microphones and cameras.

They speak for hours. Kon reminds him of the time he has left (not a lot, dude). Tim replies he’s not ready (for what?). He pukes a beautiful, complete wisteria (I cling to thee). Conner takes it with shaking hands and puts it behind Tim’s ear, the purple contrasting with his dark hair and almost bringing life back to his deathly pale face. He nods, says he understands. Dick doesn’t.

The meta says they all miss him, at the tower. They want him back as soon as possible (they are not the only ones), so he better hurry up and get better. Tim pats his hand, whispers something they can’t hear, and then they hug for long minutes, maybe an hour (Dick’s perception of time is meassured by coughs and breaths, these days), until Tim chokes on air and pukes sweetpeas (Departure, remember me, good-bye, tender memory, thank you for a lovely time).

Conner cries a little when he leaves the room. Tim is again looking at his window. All signs of the happiness his friend brought with him, gone again, washed away like his petals on the wind.

Dick goes after him and wants to scream and insult and hit him.

‘Talk him out of this!’

‘He needs the surgery!’

‘What are you good for, if you don’t convince him to fight for himself?’

‘Your best friend is dying and you’re doing nothing!’

‘Do you even love him? At all?!’

He ends up falling into his chest and crying, instead.

‘My little brother is dying, and I can’t do anything about it’

Conner doesn’t hug him back. Doesn’t even look at him when he dislodges Dick’s arms from his middle and turns away, leaving the hospital and any hope the Wayne family had of saving Tim behind.

There was scorn in his gaze, but he doesn’t need the meta to voice his thoughts, for him to get the message. Unneeded, besides; he already blames himself enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

-What are you doing?

For a few minutes, Dick thinks the words escape his own mouth. The question had been bouncing around in his head, but unvoiced; doubting Tim would even answer. He only ever spoke when Alfred or one of his friends came.

But no, it was Damian who asked, and Dick saw the bedridden boy parting his dry, bloodstained lips to answer.

-Thinking.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jason sitting straight in the couch he had claimed for himself a a few day prior. The four of them were alone at the time, and Dick felt a weak throb of hope at the idea that maybe without their Father, Tim would be willing to answer.

-About what? -asked Jay this time, voice rough for all the shouting he’d been doing lately. He was more mellow, today; tired of fighting against Tim’s imperturbable facade.

-About who. The one who planted these seeds in my lungs. Just… reminescenting.

-What the... ? Stop! -Dick’s voice broke- You know it makes the Hanahaki worse! You are just watering those, those… weeds! You are not even ignoring the precipice, you are speeding towards it!

Tim’s face never turned from the window. His hands fiddled with some nerium oleander flowers, a far away look in his eyes.

Distrust. Beware. Caution. What was Tim scared of, that was worse than death?

-I’m almost done, anyway -he sighed, letting the violet and bloody red petals fall to the bed. The white sheets and colorful flower made a sick disparity.

Dick wanted to scream- What? Your life?

Jason and Damian flinched at his words. Tim smiled without humor.

-My resistance.

He sighed again, and didn’t speak for a long while. His eyes left the window to look at Dick, and they stayed like that for what seemed like hours, eyes locked, Tim’s unreadable icy blues against Dick’s sky ones.

When he finally did, it was to ask for a doctor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

They were kicked out of the room. All of them, even Bruce. No matter how much money he offered, or how he reminded the hospital staff of their debt to his family; apparently, Tim had chosen the most morally upright doctors in the whole city to treat him. That, or he’d threaten them worse than even the Batman could.

Both are equally plausible, coming from his scheming, cunning little brother.

Dick can’t breath, is holding all his air and emotions tight in his chest from the moment they are given the boot until a nurse approaches, face a blank mask but eyes betraying her relief.

Tim had agreed to the surgery.

He would live.

Dick is more focused on the colchicum she’s twisting in her hands.

My best days fled.

For a moment, he’s not sure who was the intended recipient of the message. Nor why his throat hurts so bad.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

There was going to be a long recovery time, they are told. Tim’s flowers were left free to fester and grow and twist inside of him for too long. A lot of tissue had to be removed along with the roots, the stems had scratched along his esophagus and…

And there was something else. Something the doctor refrained from telling them. Something that turned Tim’s smile empty when they visited him after the procedure, lying still in the too big bed. Had made his voice devoid of any feeling as he told them he’d be having his rehabilitation in San Francisco’s General Hospital. He had a house there, he informed them, and his own company, that he apparently had been preparing for a long time now. He wouldn’t be opposed to future contracts with WE, but now was time for him to spread out his wings and fly. The Titans would look over him during his recovery, after all, and Gotham was no place for a bedridden vigilante anyway.

Dick felt cold all over.

A bouquet in Tim’s hands, gift from his friends, told them what they needed to know about his decision.

Lantana. Unyielding.

Pasque flower. You have no claim.

Azalea. Take care of yourself for me.

The operation should have gotten rid of Tim’ feelings towards the one he loved. Why was he leaving the entire family behind, instead?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Alfred wasn’t there when Tim was discharged. He had decided to go back to the mannor first, with both Cassandra and Stephanie, to ready everything for the family’s return. For those who were coming back, at least. Tim had said goodbye to him in private, Dick thinks. He doesn’t understand.

Bruce goes next, and he leaves the room shortly after, confusion as clear in his face as when he went in.

Jason and Damian entered together, neither trusting the other with their bedridden, weakened brother. Dick thinks, if there was something positive to take out of Tim’s suffering, was the cementing of his bond with both his predecessor and successor. They left with twin paper slips and a direction scratched on them. An invitation for the future.

As requested, Dick was the last one. He had to stop at the threshold and just relish in the image his brother gave. Healthier than he had been in weeks (maybe months, even), rosy cheeks, no sign of shadows under his eyes, easy smile stretching lazy lips. Hair a mess, but when wasn’t it? Still underweight, the days leading to the surgery, specially hard on his body, had prevented him from eating much of anything, but that was nothing a lot of care wouldn't solve. Care that would be provided by his friends, apparently.

His heart throbs.

They hadn’t been alone in a room together in quite a long time. When Tim succumbed to Hanahaki and collapsed in the Cave, maybe? And before that? At least a year and a half, maybe two, before he gave Robin to Damian.

Tim is lounging by the window, travel backpack at his feet. Conner would be picking him up from the hospital’s rooftop any minute now, and the rest of their team had already went to the mannor for the rest of his luggage.

One last goodbye, and Tim would be gone.

(Better in San Francisco than dead, he thinks)

-Why? -he asks, unable to stop himself. The question had burned at his throat for too long now, and he wanted to cough to get rid of the feeling. He refrained; weary of anything that could delay his answers.

Tim, so tight lipped he had been lately on the subject, let his smile stretch an inch wider.

-I’ve been in love with you for as long as memory serves, Dick.

Easy, voice almost breezy. As if had not completely turned Dick’s world over.

Unperturbed by Dick’s gasp and his sudden need to grasp the wall for support, Tim continued.

-My feelings for the rest of the family were built over that, and now that they are gone… well. I still care for them, the small part of me that wasn’t consumed by love grew to like them besides what I felt for you, but the feeling is… a lot smaller than it was before.

A small shrug, he looked at his wristwatch and bent to pick his backpack up. Apparently they were running out of time for their goodbye.

Dick had believed Tim had saved him for last because there were many things he needed to tell him. Turns out that he just didn’t care enough. Didn’t care anymore.

-You know how it is, when you stack everything over one little, unstable piece of yourself? When it collapses, it takes everything away. My life as a vigilante was spurred from meeting you so long ago. I came to be Bruce’s partner and later his son because of you. I made up with Jason and Damian because you edged us on. I guess Alfie, Cass and Steph are the most detached from that, so I’m cool with them now as well. The rest… I’ll guess we’ll see, from now on, how it goes. Fresh starts and all that.

He approaches Dick, still smiling. Dick has to force himself not to shiver. There’s nothing scary in Tim’s eyes, nothing dark; just lightness and calmness.

He’d never noticed, how charged those eyes were when they looked at him. Now, they barely held anything.

And that by itself was terrifying.

-I still care about you, don’t make that face -he laughs, but it’s… it’s not the laugh he’s used to. Not the one that screams so many feelings. Not the one that always made him felt like he was on top of the world just from earning it-. You are part of the Waynes. We’ll see each other soon enough, and I’m sure we’ll be able to built a new relationship that’s not linked with my hopeless love. It’ll probably take time, I’m bound to be very busy with my new company and my team, but hey, we’re young, there’s time.

Dick feels sick. His chest is so tight, he can’t breath.

-Don’t look so grim -Tim whispers, a hand careful on Dick’s shoulders-. You were right, the operation was for the best. I was just… desperate and lost, you know? I felt that way for so long, I didn’t knew how to be anything else than in love with you. Wasn’t sure how much of me would remain after getting rid of that part. Apparently -he waves at himself- enough.

Another step, Tim was just by his side, still touching him but now closer. Another step, and he’d be out of the room.

-After everything went wrong between us… the flowers I used to have were prettier. Both in meaning and… well. Do you know what belladonnas, nightshades, clematis and every other flower I coughed had in common?

He shakes his head. Isn’t sure if Tim can see it over how hard he’s shaking.

-They are all poisonous. That’s what my love for you was in the end, Dick. It was poison, and it was killing me inside faster than even the Hanahaki, but I still nurtured it. Them. Those flowers were killing me, and I still cared for them, watered them with my tears and memories. I know, it was silly, but… Well, you know how people say ‘pick your poison’? I picked you. I hanged on until I couldn't anymore. Letting the flowers go was the hardest choice I ever made -he laughs, a little incredulous- and now that they are gone, I can’t even understand why. I guess only those in love can.

He’s still smiling when he lets go of Dick’s shoulder and steps out into the hallway.

-Bye, Dick. See you soon, okay? Take care.

Dick stays there, frozen in the door, for a long time. Thinking of Tim, of the years spent together, the pain and the happiness they shared.

He remembers the kid he was, bright eyed. Always following him around when he had the chance, hanging out to Dick’s every word. Always kind, good beyond belief. Too much, for the life they lead. Too bright for all the darkness surrounding the Bat.

Until everything started crumbling. Until the weight of duty drove Dick into distrust. Into choosing. Into abandoning.

Until all those sweet memories turned into even sweeter poison.

The happy but naive kid, turned ruthless but righteous teen, turned dangerous and kind hearted young man. The kind of man who receives a vial of toxics from a loved one, and still drinks it with a smile. Still fights to do good. Still tries to keep his feelings, as hurtful as they turned to be, close to his heart.

He was heartbreakingly beautiful in his sadness when he decided to let go, and now in the lightheadedness of finally being able to breath.

Dick falls to his knees. Emotions too deep, too complicated, swim around his head.

He feels like he lost something invaluable. He’s not sure what: Tim is still there, alive and happy. And they’d have to rebuild their bridges, but that was possible as long as he was there.

So why…?

All comes crashing around him, and he allows himself to cough, trying to get the heaviness off his airways. To breath again, after Tim took all the air with him when he left.

He coughs, and coughs and coughs.

Ranunculus petals come out. I’m dazzled by your charms.

He coughs, heaves and pukes. Crawls into the room and closes the door behind him. No one can see.

Lilies of the valley, fully bloomed. Sweetness. Happiness through the ages. You’ve made my life complete.

Gasping for air, he drags himself to the nearest wall, back resting against it as he hides his face in knees drawn up against his chest.

A hemlock, bloodstained. You will cause my death.

A shadow passes by the window. It’s dark and blue and a little red; Superboy, taking Tim to San Francisco and away from him. From the man who almost killed him.

He cries in between coughs, as the garden of lost chances, poisonous flowers and blood grow around him. It’s grimly beautiful; no wonder Tim was hesitant of getting rid of it.

He can’t breath.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

#My writing #Tim Drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #kon el kent #jason todd #damian wayne #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #hanahaki disease au #hanahaki au #tw: angst #Alfred Pennyworth #Cassandra Cain Wayne #Stephanie Brown #one sided love #DickTim

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hellimagines · 4 years

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Sunbird -- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N and Jason are reunited after believing the other was dead.

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, torture, angst

Pairing: Joker’s!Daughter!reader x Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,000+

A/N: I haven’t written in a while, and it’s my first time writing for Jason Todd and DC as a whole, so we’re just gonna see how this goes. Please let me know what you think! This has aspects from Batman: Under the Red Hood as well as the comics, but doesn’t follow any specific canon. Also, I know Marvel just released a new character named Sun Bird, but we’re ignoring that.

The harsh rub of zip ties against her bloodied wrists, the impossible twist of her arms behind the wooden chair she was sitting in, the harshness of her breathing from screaming and broken ribs, and the split skin from her right cheekbone down to the bottom of her lip did nothing to distract Y/N from the true pain in front of her.

“Stop! Please, please, leave him alone; he hasn’t done anything!” Y/N cried, straining against the ties even harder, ignoring the pull of her dislocated shoulders and the raw rubbing of her wrists. There was another crunch as a crowbar came hurtling down against the boy at her feet, her pleas ignored. The crowbar hit his shoulder blade, blood spraying across the girl’s shoes from the freshly torn skin.

The Joker looked up, his eyes full of familiar mania while he gripped his weapon tightly. “Peaches,” he tsked, straightening up to look down at the beaten girl in the chair, “he’s done everything. He’s the reason I haven’t seen you in two years. He’s the reason ya mother’s locked away. He’s the reason my babygirl isn’t my babygirl anymore.” Joker’s words were dripping with venom, spit flying from his mouth and landing on the two lovers as his anger grew. “The bird and the bat have destroyed my family time and time again. I won’t allow it any longer!”

“Robin didn’t ruin anything, you did!” Y/N fired back just as fiercely, spitting back at the clown before her. “You’re the reason I ran away to Batman and Robin. You’re the reason I never looked back. You’re the reason I hate you,” she snarled, (e/c) eyes filled with rage.

Silence filled the room as the Joker reeled back, hurt and anger wiping his smile clean off. He drew his arm back, bloodied gloves gripping the crowbar tightly, and slammed down. Y/N wasn’t expecting the agony that exploded down her arm and up her face as the crowbar connected with the junction from her shoulder to her neck, nor the scream that hurled from her lungs. Blood splattered across her face, over her chest, down her arm, and onto the boy below, while her chair tipped to the floor due to the force. Robin, known intimately as Jason Todd, yelled out for her, his own blood flying from his mouth. She didn’t yell back for him, her throat too raw from the sudden pain and her body turning cold with shock. The Joker knelt, tilting his head to look Y/N in the eye.

“Now, peaches, that’s no way to talk to your father.”

“Until the day I die, you will never be my father.”

Silence prevailed once more as father and daughter stared one another in the eye; Y/N panting heavily with blood across her face, and the Joker breathing deeply with blood across his hands. Finally, after it became obvious neither was going to back down, the father stood.

“Very well,” he spoke simply, turning his gaze away to look down at his handy-work on Batman’s sidekick. “Usually the bat shows up by now, but considering the lack of importance that two of you apparently hold, I’ve given up hope on our date night.” He began walking away from the battered teens, his hands clasping the crowbar behind his back. It thumped his palm eerily, echoing in the warehouse. “Since both of you refuse to ease your suffering, I’ll leave you be,” he paused, opening the warehouse door and allowing a gust of snowy air to rush in. “If you’re worried about the cold, don’t be. Should the bat not show up soon, it’ll warm up eventually.” There was no laughter, no smile, no looking back as the Joker left with the heavy doors slamming behind him. The wind vanished alongside the Clown Prince of Gotham, but the warehouse was still chilled to the core.

Jason didn’t - couldn’t - speak, his lungs filled with blood and struggling to even breathe. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Y/N, her (h/c) hair sticking to the bloody parts of her face. She was already looking down at him, guilt clear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she began, ignoring the way Jason shook his head, “I don’t know how he found me. We were so careful, all of us, I made sure of it. I’ll get us out of here, I promise, we’ll figure something out.” Her promise held no guarantee, they both knew that, but she needed to give them hope.

Jason tried to talk, tried telling her that Batman would be here any second and that it wasn’t her fault; but he couldn’t without choking on his own blood. He grunted instead as he rolled onto his stomach, his body protesting in pain while he scrunched up to walk his legs through his arms, returning them to the front of his body instead of the back. He couldn’t get out of his handcuffs and he couldn’t get Y/N out of her zip ties, but he didn’t have time to wallow on that- he had to keep moving. Grabbing onto the side of Y/N’s chair, he used it as leverage to pull himself to his feet, his legs quivering with the strain. He gave the chair another tug, one he knew was gonna put him on his ass, and uprighted the chair so Y/N wasn’t fallen over. As predicted, he collapsed immediately and whimpered in quiet pain as soon as he hit the floor.

Y/N seethed, “Goddamnit, Robin, you’re gonna kill yourself! Just stay still, Batman will be here soon.”

Jason ignored her. It wasn’t his job to wait around for Batman or Nightwing or anyone else to save him; his job was to do the saving. He was Robin, Batman’s partner in justice- he could save himself and the girl he loved without dying. Bracing his forearms against the cement, Jason dragged himself forward, unable to stand again. Y/N continued protesting behind him, trying to break free of her bindings to stop him, but he kept going. He dragged his body across the floor, blood trailing in his wake as he reached the door. Jason had no idea how heavy the door was going to be, but as he reached up and grabbed ahold of the handle, he realized it didn’t matter- the handle didn’t budge. Falling against the door in exhaustion, Jason looked around for another means of escape. As his eyes wandered, a soft beeping caught his attention, forcing him to notice the black multi-wired box with a timer attached near the door.

“Robin, what is it?” He looked back at Y/N, his blue eyes conflicted with defeat and terror.

They were going to die.

He couldn’t save her.

“Jason-”

—

“Keep your eyes out, Robin. We don’t know how this guy works.” As she spoke through the com connected to her suit, Y/N could practically see Tim’s eyes roll.

“You know, Sunbird, I’d rather keep my eyes firmly within my own skull, thank you,” Tim shot back, causing a bark of laughter from Nightwing across the comms.

Y/N smirked, ready with a retort when Batman’s voice cut through the comms. “Focus, all of you. We’re working with someone who has taken out three drug rings within the last week. Snark won’t get us where we need to be,” he graveled, and the birds settled down.

Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Sunbird were all gathered at Gotham Harbor to confront the man who had ‘taken care of’ all three of Y/N’s latest missions. He was called the Red Hood, and they had yet to figure out his motive, who he was, or how and why he was intervening in Sunbird’s discreet missions. While she was appreciative of the danger being off the streets, she wasn’t fond of a new, murderous vigilante stepping on her toes. Y/N was perched atop one of the many red shipping containers littering the docks, the breeze pushing in the damp air from the ocean causing her to shiver. Her red and gray suit didn’t do much to keep the cold out, but her unnaturally high body temperature kept her from freezing. Across the dock Y/N could vaguely see Robin on his belly, his fingers tapping in boredom against his cape, while Batman was hidden amongst the shadows further to her right. Nightwing was to her left, balancing on top of a pole to give him a bird’s eye view. But, if you asked her, he was simply showing off. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and ears open for a flash of red metal or anything alerting them of their target.

After a while of nothing, Nightwing began to groan. “How do we know this guy is going to show tonight? He may be killing another bust right now, or, god-forbid, sleeping at the current time of midnight.”

“How do we know he doesn’t have a partner? We may be walking into an ambush, Batman,” Robin pipped up, having moved a few containers over for another perch.

“Ballistics show one gun type with the same bullets, all shot from the same spot. He’s working alone. Gordon sent Sunbird a tip about the trade-off happening here tonight, using the same system that he used for the other tips. The tips that Red Hood ended up busting himself. He found a way onto their link, and he’s shown up the past three times. He’ll be here.” Batman’s voice held no room for arguing, and the birds huffed in silence.

Just as everyone began to get comfortable once more, Robin’s voice yelled through the comms. It was inaudible and short, and by the time Y/N snapped her eyes to his perch, he was gone. She wanted to yell out for him, but she kept silent, not wanting to alert anyone to her position. Instead, she gracefully leapt down from her perch and quickly rolled to the side, hiding in the shadows beside Batman to gain a plan. He held up his hand to her, silently telling her to stay put as he moved toward the container where Robin had been.

“‘Wing,” he spoke gruffly, “follow me.” A blur of black and blue jumped from the sky before disappearing behind the container Batman had just gone to. Y/N listened and watched, waiting for any update on if Robin had been found or signs for what had happened. As the minutes ticked by and silent static graced the comms, she grew worried.

“Batman, Nightwing, what’s happening?” She whispered, her teeth nervously chewing at her bottom lip. They were fine, they had to be, they’re Batman and Nightwing, the original Wonder Duo. There’s no way anything happened-

“I didn’t kill them if that’s what you’re pittering about.”

Instantly, Y/N jerked her elbow back to hit the owner of the unexpected voice. However, when her elbow collided with metal, she cursed; both at the pain and the realization of who it was. She turned around, cradling her bruising elbow while looking up at the man before her. He was unfazed by her attacked, hands tucked comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket and his head tilted to the side.

“Are they alright?” She questioned, lowering her arm once the pain had subsided. Knowing that Batman and Nightwing had been incapacitated by this man unnerved her.

He scoffed, “They’re fine. The bat and Nightwing are knocked out. They should really look into helmets. I’m sure they sell ones that brood.”

“What, like yours?” He huffed a laugh at her reply, and she could only picture a smirk under the hood. “What about Robin?” she asked, noticing Red Hood stiffen at the mention of the youngest member. A glint from an overhead dock light fell across his helmet, giving him a darker look. Y/N could see his fists clench in his jacket pocket while he paused.

“The replacement is fine. Knocked out like the others,” he finally spat after a moment. Confusion fell across Y/N’s face as she took a step back, trying to work out what he meant. “I was never worried about the cut he gave you scarring your pretty face, I’ll admit. And now that I get to see it up close, I was right to think it’d make you even more badass. Bet the gash on your shoulder is even better. Took a chunk right out of you.”

“Jason.” His name was more of breath rather than a word as it left her mouth, disbelief keeping her from reaching out. “It can’t be.”

“Missed you too, Sunbird.” The pet name Jason had given Y/N all those years ago being spoken by him nearly brought her to her knees. “I’m honored that you used your nickname to become a sidekick.”

Disregarding the jab at her occupation, Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Let me see you. Let me know it’s really you.” While the fact of her pet name should’ve been enough proof, she still needed to see him. To see Jason Todd again. “Please,” she whispered in desperation.

He paused for a second before sighing, “Never could say no to you.” Red Hood reached up and clasped at the underside of his helmet, his fingers working until a mechanical hiss filled the air followed by smoke. The helmet was removed and held under his arm while Y/N gasped quietly. “Still handsome, I hope,” he joked, quirking his lips in a toothy smirk.

“Jason,” she breathed once more, finally believing that the man she loved was standing in front of her. His hair was shorter, flat against his forehead from the helmet, and his eyes were hidden behind a domino mask; but it was Jason, there was no denying it now. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Y/N barreled forward, crashing into his chest and causing him to drop his helmet. She wanted to be mad at him for killing people, for not telling her that he was alive, but in that moment she couldn’t feel anger towards him. Jason squeezed her tight, dropping his head to the top of hers, and breathed deeply as Y/N clutched the back of his leather jacket.

“I saw your body- I saw… After the explosion, before Bruce got to us, I got free and felt your heart stop. I watched them bury you. I’ve been to your grave every month,” she rambled, shaking her head against his padded chest. “I’ve never stopped crying for you.”

Jason held her tighter. “I did die. I was dead for six months.”

Y/N looked up sharply at his confession, removing herself from his arms. “You’ve been alive for six years, and I haven’t known?”

He reached out for her, grabbing ahold of her shaking hand. “Sunbird, listen-“

“Jason, I needed you!” She interrupted, her voice pitched with hurt. “I was alone, nobody understood what I was going through. I shouldn’t have lived, but I did, and I hated myself for it every day. Bruce hated me for it; I was the reason his son was dead. It should’ve been me,” she croaked as her voice broke at the end, tears slipping down her cheeks while she looked up at Jason.

“No, don’t say that. I thought you were dead. Talia told me you had died! When I came back, I read your obituary. Everyone said that you had died with me, and I believed it because if I had died so did you. I didn’t find out you were alive until two weeks ago,” he explained, running his thumb over her calloused knuckles. “It killed me, twice over, thinking that I had been brought back to life while you were still dead.” Y/N reeled at all the information, her breath hitching in shock.

“The world had to think she was dead. If the Joker found out she had lived, he wouldn’t stop looking for her,” a voice spoke from behind Jason, causing the boy (now a man) to quickly turn around. His body instinctively stepped in front of Y/N’s, arms raised for a fight. But instead of one of his targets holding a gun, it was Batman and Nightwing. Jason stared at both of them, noticing the way they had aged in the past six years. While Y/N had grown from a fifteen-year-old to a twenty-one-year-old, the older vigilantes both seemed aged past their years. A part of Jason wanted to reach out for them as he did Y/N, but he held himself back. He came to Gotham for a purpose, and this wasn’t it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jason began, ignoring the looks of shock on their faces and refusing them the chance to ask any questions, “the Joker gets to live, but we had to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Nightwing began and took a step in front of Batman before Jason laughed bitterly.

“No, Boy Wonder, that’s exactly what it’s like. Batman’s refusal to kill resulted in the deaths of two innocent lives, while the monster responsible gets to breathe, laugh, and walk freely. He cares more about keeping a good image than your own family,” he spat, continuing to stand in front of Y/N defensively. Batman kept silent as Jason vented, giving Nightwing’s sleeve a slight tug to pull him to the side.

“Jay, come back with us.” Y/N reached her hand out, grabbing onto Jason’s larger one with a soft touch to try and gentle his rage. “We can all sort this out, figure out where to go from here.”

Looking over his shoulder at the girl he presumed lost forever, Jason shook his head. “I can’t, Sunbird. Somebody has to kill Joker, and that somebody is me.”

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, “Don’t, please. I can’t lose you to my father again.”

Batman stepped closer to Jason, holding out his hand. “Listen to her. Come home, Jason. We’ve all missed you,” he pleaded, trying to find any sign of agreement on his son’s face.

Instead, Jason laughed bitterly, sending chills down the following vigilantes’ spines. “I don’t have a home with you anymore, B. This doesn’t end until I have his brains splattered over a crowbar,” Jason sneered, turning away to give Y/N one last look. “When this is over, I’ll find you.” From a normal stance, his words should’ve sounded creepy, but all they did was give Y/N hope.

“Jason-” But before Y/N could grab ahold of the boy she had watched die, Jason slipped from her grasp.

All Writing Taglist (OPEN- also, I know it’s been a while, so if you want removed please message me): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @wherewecangazeintothestars

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood imagines #red hood x reader #batfamily #angst #dc imagine

419 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 3 years

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March 9, 2021: Orpheus (1950) (Part One)

Greek mythology was my first mythological love.

And yes, that is ironically a very cliché thing to say about Greek mythology, since it’s by FAR the most popular and well-known mythology in the Western world, but...what can I say, I’m a sucker for the classics.

When I was 6, my mom got me a copy of the Odyssey, followed by D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths, and that book was my SHIIIIIIIIIIT. From the Titanomachy to the Trojan War, from Decaulion to Daedalus, from the Lernaean Hydra to Ladon, and from Zeus to Dionysus (my second favorite Olympian), I LOVE Greek mythology.

There have been countless adaptations of these stories over the last century of so, some better and more faithful than others. We got Blood of Zeus (which I...genuinely dislike) on Netflix last year, Lore Olympus is a fantastic webcomic and modernized retelling of the universe of stories in general (fuck Apollo, that’s all I have to say), Hercules by Disney is fun (though extraordinarily inaccurate), and who doesn’t like some Percy Jackson (the books, not the movies)?

Today’s entry won’t be the first of the Greek mythology stories this month; after all, it’s DEFINITELY fantasy, so there were going to be a few entries in here. Some will come pretty close to each other later this month, but for this one, we’re jumping forward 10 years from The Thief of Bagdad to 1950. Let’s get back to France, shall we?

Famous for his adaptation of Beauty and the Beast is Jean Cocteau, legendary French surrealist filmmaker. His stylings definitely capture a sort of practical magic, compounded with clever angles and fascinating visual and practical effects. It’s evident with the classic fairy tale, which I would’ve done this month had I not already seen it. So, instead, we’ll be looking at the middle film in a trilogy known as Cocteau’s Orphic trilogy. This is, apparently, the most important one. And that makes sense, since it’s focused upon...

Is Hadestown good? I’m real tempted to find a way to watch it, and it sounds like it’s just up my alley. I’ll probably check it out one of these days.

Orpheus was (maybe) the son of Calliope, the muse of poetry, and Apollo, god of music. Maybe. Parentage differs based on the retelling. No matter the parents, he was renowned for his charm and grace, as well as his voice and music. He was loved by animals, nymphs, and maidens alike. He was invited to be the Bard of Jason’s DnD group (AKA the Argonauts), and used Bardic Performance to inspire his comrades (and also helped them overcome the sirens by singing EVEN LOUDER).

But the one whom he loved most was his wife, Eurydice. Unfortunately, a satyr (AKA horny horned half-goat man) chased her right into a viper’s nest, where she was bitten and died. Orpheus was CRUSHED, and his song was so depressing that even the gods cried. They said, “Dude, go to the Underworld, get back your lady from Hades, please!” And he did.

Hades, the old romantic that he secretly is, agrees to let Eurydice’s soul, on one condition. That he doesn’t look back at her as she follows him out. Orpheus agrees, but the man can’t stop himself from looking back to make sure that she’s there. And she was...and then she wasn’t. So, our sad boi fucked up, and then...well, it’s spotty.

See, some people say that he stopped worshipping Dionysus (his previous patron), and the wine boi’s female followers tore Orpheus to pieces as punishment. Some say that these same women got a liiiiiiiiiittle too into the Bacchanalia (think orgies, but religious and violent), and ripped him apart in a frenzy. And some say that he only took male lover from then on, and women tore him to pieces for not paying attention to them (also, possible homophobia). You know, it varies. Still, we can agree on the ripped apart by women thing. His head could still sing, and as the women threw his body parts into a river, it sang a song so beautiful that the rocks and branches in the river refused to strike it. His instrument of choice, a lyre, was eventually interred amongst the stars as the constellation Lyra.

The story of a pained artist searching for a lost love and losing her is all over the goddamn place, with the crazy-ass Moulin Rouge being a solid example of it.

But OK, let’s finally begin Orpheus, or Orphée to be more accurate. Gonna be a weird ride, I guarantee it. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The story starts with a recap of the original myth, and notes that it doesn’t need to be limited by time and place. This sort of story, after all, could happen anywhere and at any time. And in this case, that time and place are 1950s-era France, where we quickly meet famous poet Orpheus (Jean Marais).

At a café, he meets a friend, the Editor (Henri Crémieux), where they speak on Orpheus’ fame, which is not well-liked in a cafe frequented by poets. Also arriving there is a young drunken poet, Jacques Cégeste (Édouard Dermit), who is accompanied by his patron, known only as...the Princess (María Casares). Come on, guys, can we give our female characters names, please?

Anyway, Jacques quickly gets into a drunken brawl with other patrons, which leads to the arrival of the police at the café. They forcefully arrest him, but before they can, he’s hit by a couple of motorcycles, and potentially killed. The police bring Jacques back to the Princess’ car, with the help of her driver Heurtebise (François Périer). For unknown reasons, she summons Orpheus to help them. He agrees, and goes with them to the hospital.

Or he would be, if they were going there. Instead, as they drive off, Orpheus discovers that Jacques is dead already. They aren’t going to the hospital. Instead, they head to a mysterious mansion, as ominous and oblique poetry plays on the radio. They’re soon accompanied by the men on the motorcycles that killed Jacques, who work for the Princess. The plot fuckin’ THICKENS.

Back at her mansion, they bring the body of Jacques upstairs, much to the confusion of Orpheus, whom the Princess keeps calling stupid whenever he asks questions. However, he’s not proving her wrong, as she immediately convinces him that she’s actually dreaming at the moment. Although...maybe he is?

She sits in front of a mirror, which breaks...somehow. Frustrated, she commands Orpheus to wait there for her to return, as she goes to check on Jacques and her men. Like me, Orpheus is confused. This gets worse for me, though, as the Princess goes to the other room and tells the dead Jacques to get up. AND HE DOES. Well, Jacques’ a zombie, I guess. He identifies the Princess as “his Death”, which she agrees to. She tells him to hold on to her coat, and then...

...I got questions. I GOT QUESTIONS HERE.

They go through the mirror, and the Princess’ henchmen follow, just as Orpheus walks in. He also has questions, and he tries to go through the mirror, to no avail. Completely confused at this point, he passes out against the mirror, alone in the mansion. And then...he’s outside.

Yeah, he’s just outside now, and waiting there is Heurtebise, the chauffeur! Orpheus is freakin’ out, and Heurtebise has no answers for him, but has been told to take him back to town once he...arrived. OK. Still questions.

In town, the disappearance of Orpheus is being discussed by a police inspector, his wife Eurydice (Marie Déa), and her friend Aglaonice (Juliette Gréco). Aglaonice doesn’t seem to like Orpheus very much, as she’s trying to convince Eurydice that he’s cheating on her. And that’s hard to argue, since he was last seen with the Princess. However, just as there’s about to be a scandal reported by a spontaneously appearing journalist, Heurtebise and Orpheus arrive home.

After a rough encounter with the journalist, he arrives home to a relieved Eurydice, and an enraged Aglaonice, whom Orpheus also dislikes heavily. He’s apparently forbidden her from entering his house, and tells her off. The Inspector leaves too, and asks Orpheus to come to his office to discuss the matter of the missing Jacques.

Eurydice reminds Orpheus that Aglaonice is dangerous, as she runs...the League of Women. Well...I think we know what role Aglaonice is going to play by the end of this. Her and her League of Bacchanalian Women, get me? Yikes. Anyway, the conversation turns into an argument, when the EXTREMELY ornery Orpheus basically just storms off, being a DICK to his poor wife. And when he goes upstairs to his room, he actually sneaks out of the window.

Meanwhile, Heurtebise comes into the house to offer an alibi to the pained Eurydice. While she doesn’t quite believe it, the two share some time together and seem to bond. However, when he smells gas from the stove, Heurtebise lets it slip that he committed suicide by using a gas stove. He covers it up before Eurydice notices the slip-up, but...OK. So, “the Princess” is death. Going by the traditional Greek myth, she’s some form of psychopomp, and the world beyond the mirror is the Underworld, I can only assume. OK...I can dig it.

Orpheus, meanwhile, is at the car, listening to the strange radio poetry and writing it down. The, uh, “Princess” is busy as well. Like a ghost, she walks into the household and watches Orpheus as he sleeps. A narration refers to her as Orpheus’ death. Funny, I’m pretty sure that’s going to be Aglaonice’s role.

Two days later, Orpheus is increasingly obsessed with the poetry from the mysterious radio and its odd messages. While Eurydice seems to mock this obsession, Orpheus also seems to be far too enraptured in it. But, interestingly, the messages seem to be coming from nowhere known. However, it’s all beginning to affect their marriage greatly.

On the phone, the Inspector comes calling, and Eurydice asks Heurtebise to answer the phone. He does so, and soon after, we see the phone float into place, as if placed there by a ghost. That’s confirmed as Heurtebise phases to the outside from nothing, where he meets Orpheus and informs him of the message. The two decide to head to the Inspector in his car, rather than the mysterious talking car.

While Orpheus goes through town, looking for the Princess rather than the Inspector, there’s something that I wanted to mention here. Call it an interpretation. Apparently, Heurtebise is often considered an angel by critics and interpreters. However, I’m gonna suggest that he’s actually supposed to be a representation of Hermes, the messenger god and a psychopomp who escorted souls to the Underworld. Not sure about the Princess yet, but Cocteau apparently never meant for her to be portrayed as actual death. Interesting.

Meanwhile, at the Inspector’s office, both Aglaonice and Orpheus’ poet friends (supposedly) are accusing Orpheus of being involved in Jacques’ disappearance. The Inspector turns them away, just as Heurtebise and Orpheus reconvene in town. While Orpheus didn’t find the Princess, Heurtebise says that she came by, saying that he could stay with the married couple for now.

Speaking of the Princess, we see her at night, staring over Orpheus. And her eyes are...strange. They seem artificial, and it bothers the EVER-LOVING SHIT out of me. And the whole affair isn’t helping Eurydice either, as she’s tired of Orpheus’ obsession with the car, and is planning on going to Aglaonice for advice. Heurtebise tries to stop her from doing so, but she insists. But when she goes...the motorcyclists come for her. And she’s dead. As proven when the Princess arrives through the mirror.

Alongside her comes Jacques, acting as the Princess’ servant. She notes to him that their work isn’t easy, and couldn’t be done if she were dressed in the way the humans portray her. So, she is seemingly Death, or at least an aspect of Death. Obviously, as we’re talking about the Greek story, we can assume that she’s meant to be Hades in particular. But, we’ll see. It’s also confirmed, by the way, that the mysterious messages are indeed Jacques’ poetry, recited by him on the radio waves from beyond the grave. Neat.

Heurtebise is clearly upset with what’s just happened to Eurydice. He asks if the Princess actually had orders to kill Eurydice. She avoids the question, and guesses correctly that Heurtebise has fallen in love with Eurydice. He confirms this, and counters with the fact that the Princess has seemingly fallen in love with ORPHEUS. The plot fucking THICKENS.

Good place to pause, I think. Halfway mark and all. See you in Part Two!

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outoftimewriting · 4 years

Text

Imagine (Son of Hades! Percy; Godswapped! Big Three's kids) (7/8) or (12/13)

Blood of Olympus pt. 1 - The Aftermath

Hello! So there I go dividing more stuff - oh well, what did you expect? Before reading, make sure to check the masterpost - there's a lot before this.

Before anything, I want to apologize. A reader brought to my attention that I had not put on trigger warnings - a mistake that I corrected as soon as I could. I apologize if I accidentally triggered anyone. I'm sorry, I won't do that again. Check the masterpost for the warnings before proceeding and tell me if I forgot any. So, anyway. Good reading, enjoy!! :))

They're traveling to Athens. It's slower because the winds don't cooperate - but they have some time. They have to be there by August 30th, so ten days.

It's good, Annabeth thinks. It gives her time. Time to plan, to strategize. To hope a part of her best friend, the only remnant of her teenage years that is not dead or off serving the gods, is not still in the Pit.

She keeps herself occupied - between maps, research, and daily messages from Reyna and Malcolm, Annabeth has not a lot of time to ponder.

But when she does - and she does anyway, because Annabeth is a solver. Is what she does, she solves problems - but she has no idea how to fix her best friend.

Percy - Perseus, really, because this is him in full combat mode - has been awake for exactly a day and a half. Literally.

He doesn't sleep - mostly, he just patrols. It doesn't seem to affect him much. At least he is eating. Oh yes, the eating - he eats like the food is going to be taken from him at any second, and as much as he can.

She can't help but be scared - he has the same scar, at the same place. If Annabeth is a little affected by it, how is he dealing with the remainder of the son of Hermes?

Annabeth knows rationally that she can't blame him for not talking to anyone, for acting differently. But it hurts, that he won't confide in any of them, in her - not about what happened down there.

It's been a day and a half. He was in the Pit for more or less twenty days - and time in the Underworld is different. What if he was stuck there for years in his perspective? What did he see there?

These are questions that, unfortunately, only Perseus could answer. And he is deflecting. Well, at least he looks closer to crashing when they trade places at patrol - Annabeth will wait until he is ready, but she really hopes is soon.

Sometimes, when she is alone, she wishes none of this ever happened. If they were in power, maybe this wouldn't happen - it's not hubris, right? To see that they would be better than the gods?

The daughter of Athena is not alone in worrying. Most of the crew share different levels of concern - mostly prominent in Will, who saw all of Percy's scars and is torn between wanting to know how he got them, and never asking for fear of the answer.

Leo is surprised to notice that he is also very worried about the health aspect. He is not a person that generally focuses on humans - but this is different. He saw prosthetics before - Hephaestus cabin does a lot of them - and this kind of amputation? Very traumatic. People took a lot of time to adapt - Jake amputated his foot eight months ago and he is still having phantom limb pain and disassociating from it.

Okay that Perseus' new leg is a marvel of engineering that Leo's hands are itching to dismantle to see how it works - alas, Daedalus never left the blueprints of his fake body in Annabeth's laptop, he asked - but how did he deal with it in the middle of a wasteland?

Everything came full circle when the boy in question finally crashes - Nico is the first one to wake up with the screams. They aren't shrieks, nor words, just sheer screams of pure horror.

When he is out of his door, sword at hand, all the other cabins are opening too - Jason is the last to come down, being in the deck in patrol.

Perseus' door is cold. There's no other name for it - there's an aura of pure death around it, covering the entire hallway in a dreadful mood. It curls around Nico's spine - he can feel the shiver in his bones.

The one who opens it is Hazel, the one who seems least affected by the cold - it's so easy to forget that she was dead once. Perseus is immobile in the bed, his mouth open in the awful scream.

Before Will can stop him, Nico goes to wake Perseus up. He has no idea how to deal with the situation, but he cannot keep hearing this. Piper tries to hold his arm to stop him, but she is still sleep ridden.

The son of Zeus barely touches the other demigod - his fingers barely skimming Perseus' arm - and he is pinned to the wall, an ax he didn't even seem prepared to slash at him, with a tiger growling behind Perseus.

Nico suddenly feels like his true age. His whole body tires and sags, and he feels the drawn in his bones - it's only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. He wants to drop down - to rest and let his slumber carry his soul away.

He closes his eyes - expecting either the slash of the blade or the tiredness to take him away - but neither happens.

"STOP"

It's Piper. It works - more or less. Perseus doesn't immediately drop everything - the light just seems to return to his eyes. They are black still, but the vines of green are back, creeping towards his pupils.

"Oh. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Nico. I... I... I'm s-sorry... Oh gods I'm so, so, so s-sorry I-... I didn't... I didn't t-think... I-... this, this wasn't s-su-su... supposed to happen! This wasn't supposed t-to c-come with me!"

Perseus worked himself into a frenzy. He is in a corner of his room now, his ax left behind, but the tiger firmly in front of his master. None of the others have noticed Nico's strength leaving him. The son of Zeus half thinks he imagined it.

"No... no. No. No, no, no. No touching. No touching. No. No touching."

Perseus is almost trembling, but he is not crying. Nico realizes that he saw Perseus cry only once - when Luke was spread on the floor of the Olympus, Annabeth's dagger buried to the hilt in his tight. He wonders if the hero ever cried for himself.

The son of Zeus - and most of their friends that took a step forward - put their hands up, take a step back. Perseus seems calmer.

They don't talk about it. Nico suspects something happened - he felt so tired. He felt eighty - his body decaying around him. But nobody mentioned it - and when they left Percy alone, it was like it was just a nightmare.

PTSD, Will called it. Anxiety after days of being hunted through hell - the trauma still fixed on his mind, the idea of being in danger every second of every day. Depending on the outcome of this war, they might all have it by the end of it, if they don't already.

But Nico knows there's more to it. He would pass it up as a figment of his imagination if Perseus touched anyone. But he doesn't - he avoids even looking at people for too long.

He tries to bring up the topic with Annabeth - the gloves, the sweaters back. She thinks that it's comfort, something to tether him into reality.

Nico doesn't believe that - he doesn't think she does either. He had his own struggles with anxiety for years, but he has no time for pushing. After that night, Perseus doesn't scream again - one has to wonder if he is even sleeping at all.

Nico wants to help. For once, correct something that he knows it's his mistake no matter how many times they deny it. It's how he finds himself in the third night hovering in Perseus' door.

This is not really a smart idea - because the other demigod notices and opens it, so tired - there are bags under his eyes, but the ax is held precariously in his hand.

"What is it, Nico?"

The correct answer would be "Sorry, didn't mean to bother you." But Nico's dumbass teenager mind stutters.

"I... I wanted to check on you. Are you okay? I... I just noticed that you seem kinda weird."

Percy is not angry or resentful - he doesn't even slam the door in his face as Nico would probably do. He is just tired, and that's a thousand times worse.

"Why... why do you care?"

"We are friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, sure. Kind of." The "you never bothered before" goes unsaid.

It stings, but it's not a lie. Their past is turbulent - a lot of misunderstandings and mistakes on Nico's side, a lot of grudges and overreacting on Percy's. Still, they fought in a war together. They're still fighting.

"I care about you" He hopes Percy doesn't see the blatant subtext "Something happened - don't... d-don't shut me out. I did that when Bianca... died. Nothing good came out of that."

Perseus takes a deep breath - he looks exhausted to the bone. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mention Bianca. One of his hands tremble - Nico sees that no parts of his body touch the mechanical leg, ever.

"Something happened. I fell down into hell." He must see the flinch Nico gives, and breaths out "Sorry. That was harsh. It... it wasn't your fault. It's nobody's fault."

Something in his eyes tells Nico that he does blame someone - not him, but maybe Arachne. Or the gods. Or Annabeth. Or worse, himself.

Well, that couldn't stand.

"I know" He doesn't, but that's not the moment "But you need help. I can help."

Nico makes a move to touch Perseus' arm - it's a bad idea because his whole body flinches away.

"I don't. I don't want your help."

It's uncalled for, and it hurts on Nico's pride - of course, he wouldn't need Nico's help. What did Nico ever do to him? Was his touch so unwelcomed? Well, if he thinks he can do it alone, Nico should leave him to it.

"Sure, suit yourself. I won't bother again."

Perseus sighs again when the sixteen-year-old leaves. He doesn't want to hurt Nico - gods know that he should, dammit his weak spot for cute people that would drive a knife through his back - but they should leave him alone. He is fine. He'll be fine.

Hazel is also worried - mainly for the backlash of the coming back to the natural, living world. For her, it was weeks of adaptation - to air, breathing, the sun. And Perseus was in a worse place even.

Sometimes she wonders if the Tartarus shouldn't have been her weight to carry - if the Underworld shouldn't be her place. Hazel loves the surface - Nico, Leo, and Frank, and warmth - but there's a part of her that will forever be under a sad tree in the Fields of Asphodel.

Perseus is nothing but kind - he saved her. He saved all of them - not only from danger - but from themselves. And she is too chicken to help, after listening to her brother whine about his own experience.

Her only comfort comes when she is able to cuddle with Leo - Leo, her Leo, her soon-to-be Leo. While Frank is older and her crush for him never diminished, her own for Leo only grew.

That's why, when her patrol is ending on the fourth morning and Leo emerges from the belly of the ship, covered in grease and clutching an ash-covered wrench, talking under his breath about a thing or another, she goes khaki wacky and plants one on him.

Leo flays a little - Hazel is from the 40s. She thinks maybe this is being too forward - even if in Nova Roma, this isn't uncommon behavior. Girls are able to kiss boys - it's not being a sharecrop anymore.

The boy takes a deep breath - like he can't believe this small closed mouth smooch is happening and gives her a grin.

"Hi sugar, are you rationed?"

She laughs until her belly hurts, and they smooch again - no tongue, no open mouth. Leo blushes horribly - and it's easy to see under the grease.

When this war ends, it'll be she. And Leo. And Frank. Their lives are too short to spend pining and pondering - she sees her brother every day, and that's not what she wants.

After the war, there will be no wars. There will be no quests and no killing - just peace. Heroes get to have peace - like the original Jason. The gods are not ruining this for Hazel anymore. So she walks Leo to the front of the ship, so they can watch the sunrise together.

In the afternoon of their fourth day, they fight against a mixed group of monsters - and that's the day Piper actively begins to see the changes on Perseus.

She likes him a lot - he is an amazing friend - but he has no mercy. He annihilates two-thirds of the obstacle Gaea sent for them. It's a sight to see - because he is not close to the ground. There are no skeletons, no vines, no metal, no shadow under the sun of the middle of the day.

It's just him, his ax, and a skeleton tiger. Perseus doesn't even do it cleanly - there are blood, ichor, and dust smeared all across the floor and through his clothes. He twirls the blade around, and they don't even see him as he chops up monsters left and right.

Some try to flee - he doesn't let them. Something keeps them in the ship - and Piper would bet is Perseus, for he just keeps slaughtering them. She doesn't feel bad for them - this is war. They would kill the demigods, exactly like he is doing.

Piper is... curious. She wonders if he would rip the gods apart too - if they would bleed as much as some monsters, of if they would just turn into dust. If Perseus needs to cut them in pieces and scatter them on the Pit himself.

She isn't the only one - she sees the reluctant lust in Nico's and Jason's eyes, the sheer possibilities blooming in Annabeth's eyes. She sees fear mix with interest - Piper sees everything.

She doesn't think Perseus is well, or better. He isn't telling them shit for some reason after all. You don't go to hell and get on with life. Piper doesn't trust him to not turn on them - she knows him for about a month and a half now, a third of which he was in hell - but if he is going to destroy someone, is probably Gaea. Or the gods - she isn't bothered either way.

They are all dangerous. Reality-changing, world-ending dangerous. A skilled warrior? That doesn't scare Piper. Not anymore. Not in the middle of a war.

"Huh. Can you teach me?"

Perseus gives her a feral smile. Across his cheek, there's a streak of gold - for a second, Piper wonders if he is not a god himself.

Annabeth wonders if the gods will let them survive after the war. They got too powerful, too much. Sometimes, she looks at their eyes and sees they're more god then men. Their powers accumulate - evolve. Better.

Before, she was a sharp mind. Now Annabeth feels her godly blood spurning her further and further - no longer just mind, but the body. She sees attacks before they come - she is a goddess.

And she likes it. The power coursing through her veins - the ability to control. She then swears to herself they'll be that way - forever.

The following day, they stop by an island - Perseus feels a big gathering of ghosts. It's Odysseus' palace. They go in a group to investigate: Perseus himself, Hazel for her mist, Annabeth and Will. Nico would go - but he hasn't talked to Perseus for two days now, and is mostly sulking.

Annabeth - who is as cunning as Odysseus himself once was - asks Hazel to cloak her as a beggar. She asks around - but all suitors give vague answers. Even her wordplay cannot get a single phrase out of the ghosts.

Until Perseus puts her hands on a ghost - Eurymachus is his name - and the ghost is possessed - it tells them anything. Annabeth is clocking information from it - devouring with an avid look. Her grey eyes gleam in the blueish light of the spirits.

For Will, is almost otherworldly. It's Hades and Athena. It's more - it's Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase, controlling and pushing something they never did before.

They trade looks, and their glowing hands stay entwined long after the ghost tells them that Apollo no longer controls Delphi and that Nike is lost - running free.

Victory, Perseus thinks, Victory. A goddess so vain, that she thought the tides of war depend only on her - not on Tyche, or Bia, Enyo, and Ares. So many gods of war - so many superiors - and she thought herself capable of defying them - and the demigods. For a charioteer, Nike is quite a proud little goddess, isn't she?

So they have their next goal - finding the elusive arrogant dickhead - and following travel to Athens. With Victory on their side or not.

With the glowing phantom, their disguise is blown. Perseus himself was never proficient with ghosts - but he is very proficient with his Ax, and that cut spirits very well.

They fight - but Perseus is just so tired. He just wants them all to go away. With his powers fully restored, even if the earth doesn't obey him anymore, increasingly possessed by Gaea, the shadows should.

He is fond of his shadows - they are a comforting presence, so different from the corrupted ones of Tartarus. He revels in them - Perseus is their master. As he is master of the green ghostly fire, that seems to burn the spirits away.

He hopes sincerely that they don't even get the pleasure of the Fields of Punishment. He hopes they disappear forever in the void - Perseus has no time for petty enemies anymore in this long war which has absolutely nothing to do with them.

Will is hurt in the side - a gladius - but doesn't stay like that. As they climb back to the ship, his wound closes under the fiery light of the morning sun across his fingers - magic that was supposed to help only others, and never himself.

His father disappears, and Will is getting more power. He is not the only one - Perseus fear they'll become too much like their parents, that their powers will amplify their faults and take their humanity away - but is he even human anymore?

He looks at his "leg". It's not him - he is a cyborg. There's a dead piece of metal in him. Perseus could feel the vitality around him - their sheer youth, blazing like a light to burn all the empires. He could take it all for himself. He could kill them all, grind them to dust - they wouldn't even have time to fight him.

Perseus could take it all for himself - become immortal, a parasite latching unto others - how does that make him human? How is he any better than a flea?

They decide on a group to go to Olympia after lunch - Percy, Leo, Hazel, Nico. Four is a good number - a solid number, made of people who are non-competitive. The ones who loathe themselves - isn't this fun? Maybe they'll debate who is the worst.

They divide when they get to the island - Leo and Hazel go one way, the Nico and Percy go the other - Leo is the one to engineer it, but Percy wholeheartedly approves - it's tiring to coexist with a passive-aggressive Nico. He is done with this situation.

While the couple walks, Nico and Percy stand in awkward silence, side by side. Eventually, Percy sighs - he doesn't want to cave, but they have bigger problems to work on, and he kinda misses Nico's sarcasm.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being harsh with you."

"No, you aren't."

"I am!"

"Will you let me help you? Will you let anyone help you?"

"I don't need help. I'm better."

"Then let me touch your hand."

"Go on."

"With no gloves."

"What? Why? No!"

"See? You aren't better!"

"We're in the middle of a war. I was in Tartarus a week ago."

"Promise me then. Promise me that after the war, you'll get help."

"Nico..."

"Promise me Percy. And don't... don't break this one."

It's the lowest of low blows, but Percy's acquiesces. They start talking - stiltedly. Percy still doesn't touch him. Then Nico sprouts something he'll later regret (or maybe not): Calypso is again locked up.

Nico sees now - before, when Perseus was mad, the earth trembled. With no earth to answer to him, the shadows curled around his ankles and his covered fingertips - rounding behind his ear and on the curve of his smirk.

The son of Zeus is not a fearful person - but that doesn't make him afraid. It makes him remember why he is so infatuated with Perseus - he is not only a hero - he is more. He is a rebel and a challenge - Perseus only follows his own rules. It's a bravery Nico lacks, and one that attracts him like a moth to a fire.

Perseus just asks him to repeat, and then hums when he does, stuttering over his stupid blush. It's mercy that the demigod is not looking in his direction.

"Fret not, Nico. Let Calypso enjoy her vacation. The beaches are really pretty this time of the year."

It's scary - there's no one in Percy's voice. It's like the demigod is on the brick of a really bad meltdown - but they both know they don't have time for it now. So Perseus breathes in - once, twice.

Calypso will be free, and he is not even using his winning wish for it - he already used one once. She did nothing wrong, they are the oathbreakers. Perseus should know better than to trust any oath in a river that they never put a finger on.

So he lies back on the rock. If they survive - when, because he didn't go to hell to die because of Tartarus' less impressive sister - she'll be free. And well prized for this stunt.

Leo and Hazel get back accompanied by Tempest, who, again, appears always following some big revelation - maybe the venti also serves Hazel's new mistress.

The group heads towards the ruins which are roughly twenty kilometers wide. They decide to walk through them, looking for something to pop up - the earth doesn't answer to Perseus, but that doesn't mean that he can't feel the power on it. Eventually, they head toward the Temple of Zeus where an old Nike statue used to stand.

Leo provokes the goddess to come forth by hurling insults at the Nike brand - it's his specialty, sassing up gods. Perseus is more of a shade kind of guy if he can say so himself.

The goddess' Roman and Greek side, Nike and Victoria, are at war with each other trying to decide which side will be victorious. It's ridiculous.

The goddess challenges the four to a fight to the death, with the Romans and Greeks against each other. But there are no Romans and Greeks here. Nico and Perseus lived on both sides - and even if Hazel is Roman-inclined and Leo didn't have time to meet Nova Roma, it doesn't change anything. They wouldn't fight each other.

The time to fight is long gone - they should be rallying against Gaea. But Nike is too proud to admit to a tie - to both sides of herself to have peace.

She demands them to fight in an arena and gives them four minutes to be present. To make sure that they get there she sends four metal statues after them. But instead of fighting each other, they will fight the goddess.

Nike can try and influence their minds - but in the end, with her so weak, battling against herself, it's no match for four strong-willed demigods. Perseus is so tired of gods with petty struggles in the middle of something so much bigger.

The goddess-es fight for him and Nico - what side should they be. They trade verbal blows - Senatus, Praetor, Titan War are all used as arguments.

Funny isn't it? She wasn't on his side a month ago. Perseus fell - into the depths of the abysm - and while he won - again, and again, and again - it wasn't truly a divine victory.

It was not her victory. The merit is his, only his. She didn't sweep down in her great golden wings to save him, did her? Nor will she help with a war to save herself and her family. So why should she exist at all? Why should Perseus abstain from draining her and...

Perseus clenches his fists - he can't, he won't kill Victory. That's not him. He is not a murderer. That's just the remnants of the Pit in his good-for-nothing mind.

She is horrible - but if she dies, she'll end up in Tartarus. And not even her colossal hubris deserves that.

So, they subdue her - her powers aren't enough to stop the four of them, not when Percy alone and twelve defeated her superior - Ares himself. And, when defeated, Nike concedes her blessing for the upcoming war - they just won Victory.

It's a good omen - but she does advise them that one of them shall die - and that they would need the Physician's Cure.

When they go back to the board, Annabeth and Will start researching - both of them know the name, but can't link it to anything else. They find it in the Infirmary Archives - some that Will brought for light reading. It's not very hopeful, since none of them are brewers, but Hazel is a magic user and Will is a healer - they can do this.

Daedalus laptop holds the answers to the formula: Pylosian Mint, Makhai, and the Curse of Delos. They would also need Asclepius himself - but seeing that he was condemned to Tartarus and probably still there, it's more probable they'll do this themselves.

Frank, Jason, and Annabeth go to the port of Pylos looking for the poison - obvious options for the small mission nearby water.

They walk for a while. Annabeth notices a weird tension between Frank and Jason - Frank is giving Jason pointed looks, while Jason gives Frank worried ones - that has been that way for a few days now.

She couldn't possibly know that was about not only Jason's obvious crush on Perseus - which Frank is pushing the blonde to act on - but about Frank's own feelings.

Yesterday morning, while Frank was coming to take his shift on the patrol, he saw Hazel and Leo kissing. And the worst part is that he is not only sad but longing.

He is not jealous. He wants that - he wants all. Is too much and he doesn't deserve it - Frank feels so small, compared to the demigods he is traveling with. And with such... disgusting desires. The son of Mars only feels guilty - he has to erase this from his mind.

Eventually, Annabeth helps Frank to force an old soldier ghost to give them answers - she tells them they need to go to Nestor's Cave and gives them the directions.

Frank goes in and talks to a man who hands him a bottle. The son of Mars explains that his cousins, other descendants of Pluto, have been living there for generations.

They dinner together - Jason is not very welcomed. Most people there still remember the last war - and aren't all that fond of the progeny of Poseidon and Zeus - but as they are close to the sea, at least they're civil.

Some of them recount fondly about their own days at Nova Roma - they are all clear-sighted mortals, even if the godly blood is too diluted in their veins, but these are the ones that have it closer - great-grandkids of minor gods attracted to the old blood.

There's even a daughter of a minor river deity - and a pair of twins that are direct descendants of Juventa, in her travels to visit Hercules. It's an overall paradise, in the middle of a war.

Annabeth misses her dad. And Thalia. And Luke. She misses having a family - she wonders if this war will turn her unrecognizable - or else if it already did. If they are too godly for the mortal world - if they shouldn't take their rightful place.

As a parting gift, the cousins gave Frank the small vile of poison - it's the Pylosian Mint, the first piece to their puzzle. Before leaving, they tell the trio about a chained god, in Sparta.

They go back to the ship - in the mess hall, Frank muses that the chained god might be Ares because the Spartans believed that if they chained him up the spirit of war would never leave them.

Hazel disagrees - she thinks it might be Aphrodite Areia - Sparta was the first place where the goddess was worshiped, and if the Romans have aspects, wouldn't the greeks too? It's quickly shot down - Dyonisus said they were reborn - their aspects changing with their cult, if they weren't worshipped at the same time.

Perseus thinks he heard once that Aphrodite Ourania, Aphrodite Areia, and Aphrodite Pandemos were worshipped at the same time - but doesn't mention it. It doesn't seem important - he might be wrong.

Piper herself argues that it might be one of their sons - Anteros, Himeros, Phobos, Deimos, Harmonia, Pothos, or Eros - for which Jason, Nico, and Frank flinch - they wouldn't want to meet the divine couple's offspring again.

Other possibilities are the Erotes - which seems to make Piper happy, for one of them is Hermaphroditus theyself - or one of Ares or Aphrodite other children - too many to list here.

Anyway, they set course to Sparta - for the happiness of Annabeth and the general tiredness of the group. It is like an RPG play - Nico muses - they have a ton of mini-quests. It's tiring, and it's boring - flicking like bees after something or other for a bigger purpose that never seems to come.

They go to sleep, and Piper has a vision: it's her, Annabeth, and Hazel, running through the ruins of a temple - the temple of Phobos, her half brother. There's blood on the blonde's forehead - and Piper looks like she did before.

She doesn't want to go there. It's fear - she understands it - but that's one fear she is not keen on facing. Her old short hair, the boy clothes, the adam's apple, the stubble.

But they need this - someone might die. Someone will need this. So damn her half-brother. Her mother promised her, that when this ends she'll be herself like she always wanted.

So she goes and tells the group - no one is really happy to send them to somewhere they might get hurt - especially because the last time Annabeth went on a mission on the Underground, shit happened - but the daughter of Athena starts to list all of their mistakes and they have no real say in what the girls do, so off they go, into Sparta.

The six boys stay behind - but no one is slacking. Will ropes Frank into helping to research for anything they might have on the Physician's Cure; Leo finally convinces Perseus to have a look at his leg - even if just to see how much time before Perseus has to go to the Phlegethon to get more fuel; and Nico and Jason are stuck in patrol together.

Which is no good - they haven't really talked since the Cupid episode, and the last few days, the worry about Perseus and the small missions clouded everyone's personal turmoils. But now that the son of Hades is somehow adapting, they have time.

And time is a dangerous thing. Before the two weren't alone in the ship - there was always one on the mission, one otherwise occupied. Leo - and probably Frank and Piper - have been running interference.

Jason had no courage to approach Perseus, as Nico did. Nico knows that - it's in the way that Perseus treats Jason, just like he does Frank - pretending that the Pit never happened.

It's impossible to do this with Leo, who looks at his leg and his medical history and see far more than the others. Or Annabeth, Will, and Hazel, who he is closer to. Or Piper, who just seems to know everything. And Nico, who confronted him face to face.

Jason, however, only knows him one-sided - Perseus doesn't know him. They are friends, and before all this happened, they seemed to spend more and more time together. But they aren't close - the camaraderie didn't have enough time to develop into the trust.

That's why is so weird - he knows what the blonde is going through - the wish to be closer, to be able to at least help in any indirect way, but unable to gleam more about the situation. The information didn't come so easy in real life as it does in dreams.

They don't talk anymore, him and Jason. They just sit in silence or walk around their rounds in opposite directions. Eventually, the son of the sea god can't help it.

"How is he?"

Nico has the urge to answer "Wouldn't you like to know?", but that's petty and unnecessary. Jason isn't a bad person. It's just too easy to love Perseus sometimes.

"Better, I think. After the war, he'll be."

It's more for their sake than the truth. They try to talk again, stilted and trivial. Nico feels awkward - he misses their natural friendship. It won't stop because of a mutual crush - but they need to work for it.

So he settles for this trying. It's bad, and it's mostly both of them skirting around topics, their upbringings making it difficult - both have the emotional development of teaspoons. But they're trying, and it's okay.

Meanwhile, the girls are descending the Temple of Phobos, which is under a blazing hill. Hazel goes in front - manipulating the mist to stop the fire and looking for traps - and Piper and Annabeth follow the hike, talking quietly to fulfill the silence.

"What are you hoping to do, after this?"

"I don't know. Spend time with my dad. Fight for trans rights. Learn how to use more weapons. You?"

"I want to reshape the world - to build something. Maybe a city for the greeks. Maybe go into politics - Nova Roma looked directly out of my dreams."

"I do like politics - I'm more on the activist side, though."

"I was all for the Nobel Woman Initiative last year - there were two of my half-sisters there. You know, I did think it would be cool for schools to take this more seriously - I did my freshman year the same school as Percy, and like, barely any girls at the honor roll - even though most PA classes were brimming with them."

"I'm guessing traditional boarding school - I went to a lot of those, y'know. I was finishing my sophomore year before this mess, taking three AP classes. Stretched out like hell."

"I was taking five - because crazy over-achievers Perseus and Rachel took four, and I couldn't decide on the options. I was overworking for a while, but I did manage better than them - I think Rachel was high every time we visited her on the St. Claire's Academy, but maybe it was just the sheer amount of coffee and Redbull."

They keep on talking. It's the first time Annabeth talks to the daughter of Aphrodite and doesn't think she is an airhead. Piper is a conversationalist - exactly the type of friend she lacks, someone that can keep up with her streams of random thoughts.

Maybe they could have a girl's night with Rachel when they go back to camp. Maybe invite Hazel, and even Reyna too - Annabeth has never had one of those, stereotypical girly things. But maybe it could be cool.

It serves as a good distraction - the longer they stay on the temple, the worse it gets. Annabeth feels crawling in her skin and a sucking - a sucking that she remembers coming from the Pit, taking her in like if she was trash.

Hazel feels cold - her skin flickers. Some moments, she can't touch anymore. It's like being dead again - the rustle of the leaves in the trees of the Asphodel Fields ring in her ears as she walks through the marble halls.

For Piper, it's her nightmare vision all over again. It's like she never came out, never took the estrogen. There are mirrors everywhere she looks - there's no escaping the image that she hates the most - Piper, the boy.

It's not that "Piper, the boy" is ugly. He is just not her - that's not her body, that's not her face, that's not her. Her gender dysphoria is rising high in the back of her mind.

They keep going into the temple anyway - it's not easy to find the "chained god". They find instead Mimas - the giant supposed to kill Hephaestus, and, apparently, Ares - now that his stupid brother Damasen is dead.

Annabeth can't connect the dots yet, but the way the giant talks about Damasen helping an enemy - in the end, it all ties up to Perseus. What doesn't, these days? She is just so frustrated about the lack of information - and her new powers of extracting stuff won't work on a giant, she's pretty sure.

The titan is the opposite of Hephaestus - where the man is silent and intelligent, he is brute force and loud voices. He remembers them of Ares - Hazel even notices that he shares features with Mars Ultor.

To fight a god meant to fight intelligence, they must be emotional - Aphrodite would be excellent for this quest. But Hazel herself takes the lead - her magic is not mind-based - while Piper follows her routine of never being where is expected of her.

But none of the three are in their best shape - fear, the mental manipulation, drains more of them than the actual physical effort. Hazel is able to drive her broadsword across the god's shoulder - but the backlash of him shaking her off throws her towards the wall.

Annabeth - the strongest of the two remainings, physically at least - hoist the younger girl over her shoulders and starts to run. Around here, there's a faint grey-ish light - her mother's blessing shining through her skin.

He nearly strikes the vulnerable Annabeth with her extra weight, managing to hit her in the thigh. Piper, however, is quicker - love always is - and stabs him in the calf.

"You think that would hurt me? Silly little thing, just like your mother - I fought against two gods in the last war - you are nothing, little gallus puella!"

Piper doesn't get Latin, but she knows enough to think that's a trans-related insult. This is not her first rodeo - not even in her old boy's body - but it stills fill her with rage she cannot name.

"You should be more worried about how the makhai will castrate you, instead of caring about what's inside my shorts!"

The giant laughs - but there are doubts in his voice. The makhai hasn't been seen in centuries - but it all connects. It's not Ares or his children - it's the spirits of war that the Spartans thought to be pieces of Ares himself.

Piper takes advantage of his distraction and charges at him with her blade, causing the giant to stumble backward into a wall and destabilize the temple.

"You're worst than that godling that was manipulating my weak, useless brothers - that one lost a leg. I wonder how many limbs I can chop off you before offering you to Mother Gaea."

That is enough to incite Annabeth's rage. She puts Hazel carefully on the floor and attacks He barely managed to deflect her attack, and as he reaches out to grab the prone girl in the ground, Piper slices off Mimas' arm and hair off.

While Piper is keeping Mimas occupied, Annabeth released the makhai from the statue of Ares. The makhai follow the girls - they couldn't forget the smell of Aphrodite Areia and Pallas Athena, not even in a thousand years. They swarm Mimas, and as he staggers off-balance, both of them deliver the final blow by stabbing the giant in his gut.

Mimas topples face-first into the nearest doorway and disintegrated into ash when the stone face of Phobos falls onto him.

The god appears only to deliver the final blow, but doesn't help at all. He just laughs at their predicament and leaves them to find their way off this maze of terrors.

It trembles over them. Hazel is still unconscious - there's a trickle of blood running through the side of her face. Something is slowing down Annabeth - she shivers every time they take a step. So it comes to Piper to try and guide them through the falling building.

She is still a boy - and she hates it - but maybe it's just an illusion, and when they get out of here, she'll get her two-year estrogen body back.

Piper guides them out, with the makhai in tow. It doesn't feel like a victory - not when, even though she crossed the border of the hill, she keeps her boy's body.

Climbing back on the ship, she hides herself in her room. She - he, because that's a he body, and a he person, and she is not a he but when she looks in the mirror, he looks back.

Piper works herself into a panic attack alone in her room - and it's actually Annabeth that comes to check on her.

"Tell me five things you can see, Piper"

Annabeth's golden tresses. A blue sweater that is probably Percy's and got mixed in the laundry. One of Leo's screws that are everywhere he goes. A crown of flowers Katie Bell did for her. Malcolm's favorite book sitting at her nightstand.

"Good. Four things you can touch."

A calloused hand beneath hers. The soft jeans Annabeth is using. The cold hardwood floors. The wall against her back.

"You're doing amazing. Now three things you can hear."

The ship's engine rumbling beneath them. Annabeth's voice. Nico's brooding rock music coming from his room.

"Almost done. Two things you can smell."

Annabeth's lavender cologne mixed with the grime and sweat of their taxing day. The salty smell of the ocean.

"One thing you can taste."

Her mouth on Annabeth's. It's Piper who starts it - she is just so overwhelmed by Annabeth's everything, still worked up about the anxiety attack she just had, and they are so close.

The daughter of Athena is surprised and pushes back - she sits side by side with Piper, holding her wrist so she can't flee.

"Piper, I... I didn't mean to pass the... wrong... signs. I don't like girls. And boy body or not, you're still a girl."

It's the best and the worst let down of Piper's life. She nods - she is the daughter of Aphrodite. She should've known better. Annabeth is in love with Perseus - for years now.

"We can still be friends, right?"

Piper nods - Annabeth thinks it's ironic. It's the same interaction she had with Perseus - and she knows that, deep down, being friends is not enough, how much this rejection is just as bad as any other.

But she wants to keep Piper in her life. Is unfair - but there's something guiltily pleasurable about having someone that likes you, to know that you're not undesirable.

It's selfish, but Annabeth never claimed to be altruistic.

Up in the deck, Frank and Jason are receiving news of Reyna. She says she and Malcolm were attacked by Lycaon and his pack - and that Malcolm had a vision about Orion, the giant meant to oppose the twin gods, heading towards the Hunters and the Amazons.

With Apollo and Artemis missing, it comes to them to help. Jason thinks they could try and help if they cross paths, but that they should inform them by IM and go on their way - they have little time to dawdle, even if they're using Malcolm's mother transport company to carry the giant statue.

They are able to rest for the remainder of the day - it's more or less eighteen hours before Reyna sends the next message - they met the hunters and the Amazon in the Lisbon's Harbor and fought Orion, but no god came to give him the final blow.

So Reyna and Hylla had to run - the statue was already shipped off to America, and nymphs were helping them to get to the Long Island Bay within the next two days. Malcolm wasn't so lucky.

Orion smashed Malcolm against a boulder, breaking his arm and a leg. As they fled, Malcolm told them to leave him behind - he would stall the giant for a little while.

With most Amazons and Hunters out of commission or dead, they had no other choice. The last thing Reyna saw was Orion raising Malcolm above his head, and the sickening crunch of it breaking against the sea rocks.

Will is the one on patrol - and the one who has to relay the news to Annabeth. He doesn't want to wake her, but it's her right to know - so he goes and wakes Perseus too, to help deliver the blow.

"Annie, I... We... We have bad news."

Annabeth screams - that was her big brother, almost her father. He taught her how to hold a shield and how to swim - he was her only family left on Camp.

It's unfair. That shouldn't be his battles anymore - he is twenty! She screams and she throws a statue of her mother - and that damned coin - into the wall. Then Annabeth sobs on Perseus' shirt.

"It's her fault Percy, all her fault if she didn't send us in this goose chase if she didn't choose Malcolm..."

Will solves to tell the others in the morning - it's late, and most of them had little to no sleep. He goes back on deck, but there's a storm brewing in the ocean - and it's not a natural one. It's some kind of deity - and that's not a good moment.

He goes to Perseus - he is still awake, asleep Annabeth with tear tracks in her cheeks and scrapped knuckles in his arms, and tells him about the situation - Will is not that good of a fighter.

"I'll deal with it. Stay with her. I'll be back shortly."

Will should be alarmed - with Perseus more recent behavior, the way he always hated the gods' trivial troubles, should he really be sending him upstairs, with an ax, a tiger, and a mad expression into his eyes? Maybe not, but he won't stop it. The deity chooses their own fate - even Will is done with their willful moods, compromising a much more important journey in their own name.

Let whoever it is burn - The son of Apollo covers the sleeping girl's ears softly. She doesn't need this kind of stress now.

The storm stops, but the screams in the deck don't - they are like music to his ears.

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 22

Drugged | Withdrawal

Ao3

Note: Jason is Robin

-o-o-o-o-

It's the same thing every day. The day begins with nothing. Just sitting here, with his hands chained to the wall, watching the table in front of him and waiting for Dick—who's strapped to the aforementioned table—to slowly wake up. Dick's been waking up later and later every day, but that's not really his fault.

It's the drug's fault. But Jason's getting ahead of himself.

Because, after Dick wakes up, the shakes would begin. Dick will insist over and over again, every time Jason asks, that he's okay. But Jason doesn't believe him. He's seen this before in his own mother. As the day progresses, the symptoms would as well. The shakes would be joined by a sweaty parlor. Dick's stomach would grumble angrily. He'd constantly shift and move in his bindings in a clear state of anxiety, tugging at his wrists and ankles to the point that they began to bleed.

By the time they bring lunch, Dick's barely able to keep a sentence, his voice wobbles so much and his memory begins to hold onto less and less. Their captors are practically formless, their faces and body types all hidden behind layers of cloaks and black masks. They don't speak either. They just toss Jason a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich that definitely came from a gas station. Then, they spoon feed Dick some sort of broth with soggy vegetables and very unsatisfying looking chunks of meat. At first, Jason and Dick both refused to eat, even if the caps were sealed and the packaging untorn.

But days passed. The withdrawal made Dick starving and malleable, willing to eat without arguing too much. With Jason, he started eating because it became clear that if they wanted to poison or drug him, they clearly would have already.

After lunch, they were left alone again. For hours. Hours that Jason spent curled up against the wall, tearing strips into the plastic packaging of his eaten sandwich and tying knots with them… just to keep himself occupied as Dick would begin gagging and sniffing and groaning and trembling. Jason would look up at him every so often to see him deeper and deeper into withdrawal and being able to do nothing about it except writhe.

Hours would pass. Then, the people who captured them would come back with dinner. They'd confiscate Jason's plastic knots and braids, give him another sandwich, then immediately inject an unmarked syringe filled with a yellowish liquid straight into the crook of Dick's elbow.

Dick would immediately go still. Silent. Lax. He'd stare at the ceiling, completely calm and breathing deep. At first, Dick didn't go so still so quickly. It's clear this kind of drug has some sort of tolerance that has to built up to.

Dick screamed and jerked in his restraints the first time. Cried during the couple after. And isn't that strange? The guy is a legend. While Bruce doesn't talk about him often… Jason knows the legacy he's trying to carry while being Robin. He honestly can't believe that he's this guy's… adopted… younger brother. No one in Gotham doesn't know who the original Robin was. Jason's still trying to earn even a smidge of the same respect, even from the criminals.

Sure, in the beginning, Dick and Jason started off a bit rough. But it ended out alright, yeah? Dick gave him his blessing to be Robin, and then handed him a slip of paper with his apartment's phone number. They went skiing a couple weeks ago, and Jason had a lot of fun.

Dick Grayson is so perfect. And Jason's just watched him scream and struggle and sob because of drugs.

Jason really hates drugs.

Now though, Jason's not sure if Dick's instant dissociation is better or worse. They've worked Dick up to a point where his body feels like it needs the drug more than air to breathe. The withdrawal is getting more and more intense every day that passes, to the point Jason's sure that if his mom…

Well... to the point that most druggies would be taking multiple doses a day by now.

"What do you shitheads want?" Jason asks for the billionth time. He tries to ask every time they enter the room.

They don't answer. They never do. They don't even look his way.

Jason's begun to think that he's just there as collateral. They haven't done anything to him. Not even an annoyed slap when Jason screamed his voice raw at them the third time they drugged Dick.

They just use Dick's gagging reflex to put more brothy soup in his mouth, and then they leave.

This is when it gets absolutely awful. Jason's known even before becoming Robin that when someone is this high, there's no point trying to talk to them. It's like his mom- it's like Dick isn't even in the room. It's just Jason, alone, sitting on the moth-eaten sofa and forcing himself to pay attention to Treasure Island even though he's already read it a thousand times.

No. No he doesn't sit on the couch. He sits against the cold wall, his tailbone aching, his wrists stinging against the shackles, trying to work up the energy to eat his sandwich while Dick falls deeper and deeper into a forced addiction.

The night wears on. What Jason assumes is… the end of the ninth day? He's mostly measuring days by meals and when they come to drug Dick. The little cell they are chained up in doesn't have any windows to know for sure. Could be more than nine days, could be less.

Jason does his best to just... ignore Dick, because it's this stretch of hours that has Jason's anxiety spiking the most. There's too many bad memories with drugs. Too many awful moments that conspired because of them. If he looks up, he won't see a completely relaxed and high-off-his-ass Dick Grayson.

He'll see Catherine Todd, foam leaking from the corners of her mouth and her body colder than what it should be. He'll see the syringe still in her arm. He'll see a still chest.

He busies himself by moving as much as the chains allow him. The tether to his shackled wrists is welded about half a foot above his head, and there's just enough length for him to touch a small diameter of stone floor around him. When he stands up, he's not able to lift his hands above his head. He's not able to move more than a few feet towards Dick. He makes the best of it though. He stretches as much as his shackles will allow. He leans forward against the wall and does makeshift pushups. He counts the links in the chain. He goes down to touch his toes.

He keeps going until Dick finally groans, the drugs wearing off hours later.

Though, it feels sooner than normal. Maybe Dick's accidentally built a tolerance and the doses are starting to wear off quicker.

Whatever the case, Dick groaning out of a nauseating trip is the sign for Jason to finally sit down and curl up the best he can on his side. He watches Dick's twitching fingers. Listens to his small whimpers and noises of confusion. He sits there and watches Dick be alive until his eyes fall closed and he doesn't dream of Dick being still. Dead. Next to the body of his mom while his dad (Bruce?) screamed about how Jason's a failure and he should have stopped it.

He falls asleep, wakes up a little while later, and the day repeats.

-o-o-o-o-

"How long…?"

"I think… thirteen days?"

"…"

"Nightwing?"

"N-nothing. It just… it just…"

"Hurts?"

"Yeah… it- I- everything just really- b-but I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"… You don't have to lie to me. I know. I understand."

"Sorry… I just… hngh- fuck"

"…"

"Is it… getting worse or-?"

"Ca-can we talk about something else?"

"Yeah. Sure, big bird. I'm okay to talk about something else."

They talk about something else for about fifteen minutes, both of them persistently not talking about drugs or withdrawal or addiction or dead mom's and angry deadbeat dads. They also don't talk about Bruce, because while Jason's still holding out hope that Bruce will come for them, Jason's pretty sure Dick doesn't.

But it's okay. Jason will hope for the two of them.

Twenty minutes pass before Dick simply can't keep a conversation anymore. The stuff he's one must be strong. Severe. The kind of stuff someone like Black Mask would sell. The stuff that would get you so deep on its hooks that you'll lose your job, house, family, everything just to have a single more drop in your system.

Thirty minutes pass. Then more. And Jason sits quietly as Dick falls apart.

It's not even close to lunch yet.

-o-o-o-o-

Something finally changes on what Jason's pretty sure is day fifteen. He knows something has changed when lunch passes without a single visitor. He knows something has changed when the time ticks ever onwards and Jason's left clutching his completely empty stomach and watching Dick suffer. Cry. Writhe. Gag.

He knows something's finally changed when the door finally opens, but it's a long time after lunch; and yet still a little while before dinner.

He knows something hasn't changed for the good when their captors enter in a group of six instead their usual three or four.

He knows somethings definitely changed for the worse when they surround Dick like a pack of hungry cultists around some poor virgin.

"What are you doing?" Jason demands, standing up and walking forward as far as his chains will allow. It's not very far. He's not even within kicking distance of the closest person.

One of the kidnappers reach into their cloak and brings out that stupid syringe. However, instead of immediately injecting it into Dick's practically torn apart arm, they hold it above Dick's head.

Jason feels like he's swallowed something sour when Dick immediately stills.

Oh.

Jason understands now.

"Tell us the name of Batman, and we'll let you have it," the person says. Voice is deep, probably male, but Jason doesn't care. All he cares about is that the man waves the syringe back and forth above Dick's bound form like it's a bone and Dick is a very, very desperate dog.

"You sick bastards," Jason breathes. He can't... even process how much he hates this. It's not fair. Addictions shouldn't be… used against someone like this. They've patiently worked Dick to this point, and then they're going to give Dick a choice between something he never wanted but feels like he needs… or something he cannot tell. "You fucking fuckers."

Jason goes completely ignored. By the kidnappers because they've been ignoring Jason this long, why stop now. By Dick because he's too focused on watching the syringe and licking his chapped lips.

Finally, Dick speaks, and Jason really wishes he hadn't.

"P-please…"

"Tell us who Batman is," the man repeats and Dick immediately dissolves into pathetic sobs.

"Please… puh-please… I- I can't-"

Dick jerks in his restraints, like he wants to jump forward and stab the needle into his own arm himself.

The man repeats his question and Jason finally has enough.

"HEY! YOU CULT WANNABES!" He shouts, tugging on his restraints and snarling. "Get the fuck away from him or I'll tear your throats out!"

"Batman's name, Nightwing. Then you can have this."

"N-no- st-stop- I don't-"

"Listen to me! Stop ignorin' me!" Jason tugs harder on the chains, but all he succeeds in doing is breaking the scabs next to the biting metal, allowing blood to flow down his filthy wrists. "Don't listen to them, N! Ya don't want it!"

And for the first time, one of the kidnappers turns to face Jason. They walk forward so suddenly that Jason takes a startled step back. Before Jason knows it, his cheek is stinging from a vicious slap he didn't expect. He doesn't get a chance to recover from it either, because suddenly his wrists are grabbed and the tethering chain is hooked onto something high above his head against the wall. Something he hasn't even noticed till now. Jason struggles to place his footing as he finds himself almost hanging by his wrists; helpless to the kidnapper as they shove a strip of tape over his mouth.

Effectively gagged, Jason goes back to being ignored while the kidnapper returns to the others surrounding Dick.

Jason growls and tugs in the chains, but he goes nowhere.

He can only hang there and watch as they continue to wave that stupid dose of drugs above Dick's head, asking the same question over and over again with the same steady, manipulative voice.

Jason's seen Dick cry many times these past several days, but never as desperate and broken as this. Jason sorta hopes that Dick just… throws everything away to tell them Bruce's name. Just so this could end. Just so they'll give Dick what he needs so his body will stop torturing itself.

"Br- n-no-"

"Batman's name."

Dick shuts his eyes and shakes his head, tears escape the corners of his mask as he twitches and chokes on gags.

The kidnappers seem to be getting impatient now. The man holding the syringe sighs then bends forward and presses the tip of the needle on the inside of Dick's arm. Dick jolts like he's been electrocuted, his eyes flying open and the tears doubling as the needle enters the already severely scarred area of skin. The man doesn't press down on the needle and Dick wails.

Jason feels like he's going to throw up.

This is so sick. So messed up. He wants to scream but all he can do is throw himself against the chains and slam his back uselessly against the wall. He tries to work the tape off his mouth, but he can't quite move his jaw or tongue the way he wants to.

"Batman's name, Nightwing. And make sure it's honest, otherwise we have smaller needles for smaller people."

Well, at least Jason knows why he's here now.

The bad thing is, it works. Dick shutters around the needle in his arm and chokes back another sob. "Ok-kay- d-don't- hurt Robin- kay- okay-"

Jason falls still. There's nothing he can do. At least, when Dick tells who Batman is, he won't be in so much pain anymore. But that's only if the kidnappers actually decide to let him have the dose.

"Name, Nightwing. We don't have all day."

"-kay- I- n-name… bah- Bru-"

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Jason sags against his restraints in sheer, knee numbing relief. None other than Batman makes it in the nick of time to slug the closest bad guy straight across the jaw. The kidnappers go down hard, and immediately the rest are scrambling to figure out if they should fight or run.

Batman doesn't give them a choice.

In a terrifying series of events every single kidnapper in the room ends up in crumpled heaps on the floor. Without a single pause, Batman stalks towards Dick. Jason doesn't have a single chance to stop him before he grabs the still full needle in Dick's arm, and rips it out before tossing it across the room. Dick goes perfectly still for a single moment, ridged like his body is desperately trying to figure out what to do. Then, he completely falls apart.

Bruce stills as if he has no idea why Dick is reacting this way.

Jason has enough.

"Rrs!" Jason shouts behind the tape, tugging on the shackles so hard he feels a streak of heat travel down both of his arms. Blood is dripping from his elbows by the time Bruce rushes over to Jason and picks him loose.

The moment Jason's hands are free, he doesn't even bother to rip off the tape on his mouth. He ducks under Bruce's arms towards the disregarded syringe. Thankfully, it's not broken and it's still full. Jason wipes off the needle with the torn remains of his cape as he rushes back towards Dick.

Bruce makes a noise of both shock and questioning when Jason jams the needle into the inside Dick's elbow, pushing in the liquid until only a few drops are left.

Dick lets out a few more sobs, but slowly relaxes, then goes completely still. It's eerie. Jason feels like he's going to be sick.

He pulls the needle out and holds it in his shaking hand. He reaches the other to his mouth to rip off the tape, blinking tears from his eyes. Maybe from the sting of tape. Maybe from guilt.

Either way, he looks at Bruce and holds out the syringe.

"It's not his fault," he whispers. "It's not."

"Robin…" Bruce says slowly, taking the syringe.

"It's not… he… he tried to fight it- but they- and he-"

Bruce suddenly wraps Jason into a hug while Jason finally shatters.

But a good kind of shatter. The kind of shatter that makes you feel like you can make a stained glass window with broken beer bottles and string.

Dick's not okay. Jason's not okay. Neither of them are anything close to okay.

But Bruce is here. He came, even though Jason went against his wishes and went to visit Dick. Even though Dick and Bruce are still fighting. He came.

And it will only get better from here. Jason knows it.

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fearfulkittenwrites · 4 years

Text

Safe - “Don’t. Don’t ask.”

Summary: Jason is great at getting into awful situations. He's really bad at getting out of them. Dick is a little tired of his impulsive little brother, but comes to the rescue all the same.

Word count: 2613

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435032

Notes: Hello! Thank you for clicking this, I hope you enjoy this work! This has been beta'd by @3ambird, they are an amazing person and I don't know what would be of me without them making my works this much better with their sharp eyes. Thank you so much!

Also, I’d like to say that I may be a little absent because my classes are going to start up again this monday, but I’ll try my best to post at least every ten-twelve days. Don’t let that stop you from requesting stuff though! I love them, because they give me a clear direction and keep my mind from wandering away into places I don’t want to go to, ahahhaha

TW: Blood, Killing, Deaths.

Dick’s cell rang in the middle of patrol. Jason was calling. He frowns at the phone, but picks up anyway.

“Hey.” He says, sitting down on a rooftop, looking up at the stars “What’s up?”

“Hey.” Jason answers, and Dick can tell he’s struggling to breathe, as if he had run a marathon. He immediately straightens up, more alert “Are you... Can you get to my place?”

“Yes.” Dick stands up, already planning the best route to his brother’s apartment “What happened? Why didn’t you use the usual way?”

“I... I don’t want him to know.” Jason admits “It’s bad Dick. Really bad. I just need... A little help. Please.”

Dick sighs, and turns off his comm.

“I’m on my way.” He hangs up, shoving the phone back into its designated pocket.

Dick sees this kind of situation way too often with Jason. His impulsive brother would launch himself into situations he couldn’t always handle alone. Dick tried to remember that it was not his place to judge; he was just as impulsive as his little brother, but a part of him would always get irrationally mad over his actions. A small part of him, a part that he carefully buried deep inside his chest before he’d talk to his brother wanted to yell, tell him to stop behaving like a selfish child.

Swallowing these thoughts, Nightwing tapped on his brother’s window before opening it.

“Jason?” He called as he stepped into the dark apartment.

“I’m here.” Jason answered, sitting in the corner of the living room.

“I’m gonna turn on the lights, okay? I can’t see anything in here.” Dick warned as he placed a hand on the lightswitch.

“No, wait!” Jason tried to stop him, but it was just too late. Once the living room was illuminated, Dick gasped at the scene ahead of him, feeling sick.

Two corpses were laying on the ground, each in one end of the room, and Jason crouched against the wall, covered in blood. There were puddles of it under both of the bodies, and there were splashes on the walls and couch, indicating that the murders had happened inside. The stains were still a deep red. The stench of it burned into Dick’s nostrils, making him gag on the metallic smell.

“Jason, what did you do?” Dick asks as he shoves his hands inside his hair, pulling a little at the sides.

“Don’t.” Jason starts “Don’t ask.”

“Fuck man, why would you do this?” Dick kneels next to one of the bodies; a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead indicated the cause of death “Jason, what the fuck?”

“Dick, please.” Jason gets up, holding his brother’s hands with his bloodied, trembling ones “Please, man. You have to believe me. I didn’t mean to do this. I just... Shit, man. I need help.”

Their eyes met, and Dick’s anger and resentment dissipated for a second, noticing how deeply desperate his little brother was. How lost his little wing felt, covered in the blood of two strangers, face riddled with bruises and eyes so, so scared.

Slowly, he nodded at the younger man, finally understanding what this was about.

Because it wasn’t about the killings. Jason was far too used to it by now.

It was about the place. It was about it being here, where he should feel safe. And now, he didn’t feel safe anymore.

“Alright. I’ll help. But we’ll need to talk about this eventually.” Jason opened his mouth to protest, but Dick interrupted him “I don’t need it to happen tonight. I just need it to happen, and it’s going to happen, Jason.” His brother swallowed and nodded, backing off and looking at the ground “Okay. Now pull yourself back together, because we’ll need to get rid of these bodies quickly. Do you know who they were?”

“I don’t know their names... I just know that they were Roman’s hitmen.” Jason rubbed his face in distress, smearing blood all over it “Fuck, Dick, what am I gonna do now?”

“Breathe.” Dick said “Breathe, and get control over this. You can freak out once we’re done.But right now, I really need you to cooperate with me.”

“Okay.” Jason nodded “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“Get me trash bags and rope. We’ll tie these bodies together.”

Jason goes into his kitchen and Dick crouches down to roll up his brother’s carpet and drag the two corpses closer. Once his brother comes back, both of them cover the bodies with black trash bags and tie them up with the rope, in a nauseating dead man burrito.

“Listen, Jason, I’m gonna need to call someone else.” Jason’s eyes widen “We need to get these bodies out of here so we can dispose of them, but I’m on foot. It’s either Tim or Babs.”

“I...” He takes a deep breath “Call Tim.”

“Alright.” Dick says “Start getting cleaning supplies. And some strong ass scissors or whatever, so we can cut up and burn this carpet.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s drenched in blood and I don’t feel like spending hours cleaning it. Do you?”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll… we’ll burn it.”

Jason leaves the room again and Dick calls Tim.

“Hey. It’s me.” Jason can overhear the conversation, even if he doesn’t want to “Listen, I need help. I’m at Jason’s. Two bodies that need to be gone. Can you handle it? Thank you, Tim.” Dick turns to Jason, who had just walked back into the room “He’ll be here in ten. Let’s get started on the cleaning.”

Dick removed the stains from the couch quickly before cleaning the walls as Jason moped the floor to the best of his skills. When Tim arrived on the Batplane, Dick went to the roof to greet him, bringing the two bodies.

“Fuck, man.” Tim says “What did he do this time?”

“He doesn’t wanna talk about it.” Dick shoves the bodies in the small plane, grunting from the effort “Can you find out who they were and maybe make them disappear?”

“Pfft. Of course I can.” Tim answers “This is all kinda dark, but it’s not like I’m not me.”

“Yeah, right.” Dick smirks “Thank you Red Robin. Really. And, oh, maybe don’t mention this to Batman?”

“Nightwing, do you have me confused with Robin? Because I do have brains.”

Dick snorts. If anyone would be able to make him laugh in a situation like this, that would have to be Tim.

“Whatever. Thank you for the help. I’m gonna go back to cleaning.”

“Go on. Good luck.” Tim gets on the plane and flies away.

Dick quickly hops back into the apartment, and Jason had already started cutting the carpet into strips. He shoved the pieces his brother had cut inside another trash bag.

“We’ll burn those in a proper place.” Dick explains.

Once they are done with the living room, Dick directs his brother to the bathroom.

“Okay. We’re done now Jay. If you need to let it out, to... break down, go ahead, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Jason shoved his hands in his hair, overwhelmed, and he leaned on Dick and cried on his shoulder until his body went limp.

“What the fuck is wrong with me, man?” Jason cries, face buried on Dick’s neck and shoulder “Why do I... Why can’t I just be like you? Why does this keep happening?”

“Shh...” Dick ran a hand through his brother’s hair “It’ll be alright Jay. We’ll handle this.”

“How?” He steps back, searching his brother’s eyes, but Dick still has his mask on “How can we handle this? I... ‘s my apartment, Dick! They figured out where I live! I’m a failure, and a danger! To others and myself.” Jason’s eyes fall, fixated on a crack in his bathroom’s tiles “Y’know,” He starts again, whispering “When a dog kills someone... they put it down.”

“Hey, look at me.” Dick says, grabbing Jason’s shoulder “You’re not a dog, Jason. And we’re not putting you down. We’re family, okay? Not by blood, but by something stronger: choice. And I’m not giving up on you.” He squeezes his brother’s shoulder a little “So don’t you dare give up now, do you hear me?”

Jason nods, trying to regain some of his confidence.

“I just...” He sighs, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand “I don’t even know where to start.”

Dick’s expression softened, and so did his grasp on Jason’s shoulder.

“Let’s start with a shower, yeah?” He suggests.

“Yeah. That- that’s a good idea.” Jason answers, pulling off his jacket and staring at a blood stain on it “What... What about my clothes?”

“Let me worry about them.” Dick takes the jacket from his brother, waiting for the next items patiently, back turned to his brother.

Dick left with the clothes, going for Jason’s small laundry. He ran some cold water through the fabrics, getting rid of most of the stains, and used some hydrogen peroxide on the most stubborn, already dried ones. He hung the clothes up so they wouldn’t stench up the whole area, hoping that Jason wouldn’t take them as clean clothes. After that, Dick opens his communicator’s channel again, clicking on it to call for Batman.

“Batman,” He starts “I’m off for the night.”

“Nightwing, you’re not done with your patrol time yet.” Batman replies.

“I know.” Dick sighs and presses the middle of his forehead with his middle finger, stressed “Something came up.”

“What came up?”

“What usually does.”

“And what would that be?” the Bat growls.

“What do you think?” Dick rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to say I’m stuck playing dad again because you’re too busy punching criminals in a bat suit.

The line goes silent for a while.

“Is he... Okay?” Bruce asks. And this is definitely Bruce’s voice, not Batman’s growl.

“Physically? Yeah, just a couple of bruises. Mentally? Getting there. Or at least trying to.”

Dick hears the man breathing on the other end of the line.

“And I don’t suppose you’re telling me what happened?”

“You know I won’t.” Dick answers “It’s none of your business. He’s a grown man, he’ll share it if he feels like it. Don’t go demanding answers he isn’t ready to give.”

“Nightwing...” Batman’s voice sounds almost sad through the device “If you can... Bring him home. Please.”

“I will. If he wants to.” Dick takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, tired. “I’m signing out for the night. Be safe.”

As he pulls the device from his ears, Dick wants to throw it against the wall, step on it when it falls, take one of Jason’s pistols and shoot it three times in a row. Instead, he places it on top of the washing machine, bringing his right hand to the back of his head to take a fistfull of his own hair, the strands closest to his neck, and tugging at it. Barbara’s words came to mind. “You have to stop doing that,” She had said to him once “You might just end up going prematurely bald”.

Dick had argued that that is not how balding works, plus, his biological father kept his hair for as long as he lived, so he most likely was all good on that one. He hoped.

Walking to Jason’s closet, Dick opened the last drawer on the left corner, picking up the sweatpants and t-shirt his little brother kept for him, if he ever needed to change from his Nightwing outfit to regular clothes. As he stripped, he noticed a sharp pain on the right side of his torso. There was a big, dark bruise covering that side of his ribcage. Rolling his eyes, he pulled on the comfortable clothes, annoyed at the pain as he rubbed the area harshly, not sure if that made it better or worse.

In the living room, Dick shot the kitchen door a look, trying to decide on whether or not he should try to make Jason a warm meal. He wanted to, but his tiredness and sore muscles got the best of him, deciding to settle on the couch to wait for Jason, hoping that the man wouldn’t be hungry.

It doesn’t take long for Jason to come out of the shower, hair dripping wet.

“Hey.” Dick turns his head to look at him “Do you need some ice for those bruises?”

“No.” Jason replies, groaning as he sits down next to Dick “Are you... Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

“Of course I can.” Dick answers, offering a weak smile to his brother “But... Maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t think that you’ll be able to sleep here, Jay.” Dick says, leaning forward a little.

“Are you... Trying to drag me back to the manor?” Jason squints as he speaks.

“No.” Dick sighs “I just... I had to offer. But it’s your choice.”

Jason stops for a moment.

“I... I would. But... I don’t think that... Bruce really wants me there.” He rubs at his eyes for a moment.

“Hey, c’mon, that’s not true at all.” Dick hugs him, resting his chin on Jason’s shoulder “Bruce wants you there. He’d be thrilled with having you back, Jay. You’re his little boy, no matter how much you grow.”

“Are you sure?” Jason whispers.

“Yes.”

“What if he... what if he finds out about... This?” He gestures towards the room “He’ll throw me out... for good.”

“He won’t.” Dick answers softly, the vibrations his voice sent through his chest helping calm Jason down as he spoke “He loves you too much.”

Jason cried again, sobbing violently until he was out of breath, gasping for air between tears. Dick hummed softly, the tune of an old lullaby he knew calmed his brother down, a hand brushing through Jason’s hair.

“C’mon, Little Wing,” Dick whispered “Let me take you home, hm? You’ll sleep better there.”

“Okay.” Jason whispered back “But... we don’t have to tell Bruce why, do we?”

“Of course we don’t Jay.” Dick rubbed his arm.

Jason sniffled, and they sat quietly for a while before the younger man got up. Dick helped him pack some clothes and other personal items, enough for a week. If Jason decided he’d stay any longer, they could always drive back to get more things. When they reached the manor, both of them went straight to Jason’s room, and Dick sat on the ground, by Jason’s side, humming lullabies he had learned from his father, mother, Alfred, Bruce, and even Jason until his brother fell asleep.

Dick went down to the cave, wanting to work more. He wouldn’t be able to go back to the streets now, as much as he wanted to. Everyone would scold him for leaving Jason alone, and he didn’t really have the heart to do so anyway, but he also knows he won’t be able to sleep yet. However, in the cave he is still useless. If they needed information or help of any sort, they’d all contact Oracle, not Nightwing.

So he settled for practicing, using the bars on the cave to let off some steam, performing difficult and elaborate flips, practicing different grips, using his core muscles as much as he could, strengthening them. He wanted to be sore when he went to bed, and he was. The extra exercise helped him fall asleep faster, and the next morning, when he felt his entire body ache, he might’ve regretted his decision, but Jason was at the breakfast table, sliding him a cream for bruises and winking at him, so he didn’t, because at the very least his little brother was safe at home.

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