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addicted-to-dc · 2 years

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Survivor (Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader) - Part 2

I finally decided to continue some oneshots into small series. Maybe I’ll make them into 3 or 4 parts, idk. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, jumping off buildings, crime, the usual Jason Todd fanfic.

Standing over Gotham brings back so many memories. It’s raining, the cold water nearly slicing your skin open with the harsh wind around you. Despite how calm you were forcing yourself to be, your heart wouldn’t stop beating at a variable rate. You couldn’t help it.

The distorted lights and little people moving below you remind you of a time when life was simpler. You were just a stupid kid to believe you could make a difference without any consequences. The cuts and bruises were expected, but there was nothing you could do to even prepare for the emotional torture you’ll endure for the rest of your life. At least the physical won’t be a problem anymore. You shivered just thinking about the Pit flowing through your veins, your body so used to it you’re practically a walking Lazurus Pit.

It had only been a few months since the visit. Despite Jason’s protests that Bruce didn’t know, you had a feeling that he did. It wasn’t because he was the world’s greatest detective, no, it’s because he’s your father. Despite everything, no matter what you’ve been through, he’ll always read you like an open book. You’re lucky that it goes both ways, allowing you to see through his tricks and mind games. Maybe that’s why you haven’t shot him yet, even if he was standing a few feet away.

“What do you want, Bruce?” you ask, removing your foot from the ledge. “Afraid I’ll jump?”

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face as you toy with a detonator. Jason had a busy night setting up the bombs, and you’re so damn excited to give Gotham the best light show since the Fourth of July.

“When did he get to you?” Bruce gently says with obvious sadness in his tone.

“Oh, no, you’re not going to play that game with me,” you respond, walking away from the edge. “No monologuing, no distractions.”

“You were healing, (Y/N),” he pushes, not even twitching a finger as you slowly approached. “You were so close and he just took it all away.”

You sigh and press the detonator, turning away from him to watch the explosions all over the city. The smile returns on your face even when you’re tackled to the ground, laughter spilling from your lips as he held your face in his hands.

“I was never going to be the kid that I was, you know that,” you chuckle and look to the sky. “Just another casualty in the crusade to cleanse Gotham.”

The bright smoke illuminating the sky felt like looking at shooting stars. It nearly made you want to make a wish on it, but Bruce interrupts it by pulling you to him. You’re too focused on the sky to notice, but his voice brings you back to reality.

“Is this really what you want? To become the very thing that changed you, to become Him?”

You instantly push away, and he lets you go. He’s just playing mind games, you tell yourself. It’s just a distraction. What time is it? You should have met with Jason by now.

“I will never be like him,” you growl, your body sagging after a few moments. “How could you even say that?”

You’re hurt, insulted that he would even think that you would allow yourself to be like that clown. Tears threaten to escape as you press your lips together.

“You just don’t understand yet,” you say, closing your eyes as you fall off the edge.

Bruce screams your name and jumps after you. You reach for your grappling hook and notice that it’s missing. Eyes wide, you look back to Bruce and quickly adjust your body. Reaching an arm out, you grab at the first thing jutting out of a building. A scream erupts from your mouth as your shoulder tears from the force of your falling. Looking down, you only have a few more floors until it’s ground level.

Not even a few seconds after you tear your shoulder, you let go and land on the ground. Rolling to the best of your ability, you snap your ankle as soon as it meets the concrete. You suck in so much air it feels like your head is floating. Bruce lands softly behind you, not saying a word.

“You really didn’t think I’d do it,” you laugh, reaching up to snap your shoulder back in place. “You have too much faith in me.”

Your shoulder and ankle quickly heal, cracking a few times as you roll them experimentally. It’s risky to keep entertaining him, especially when Jason warned you so many times against it, but you can’t help it. It’s nice to talk with him without a filter. It’s nice to see what he really thinks you’re capable of. You can’t wait to destroy what’s left of that weakling he still thinks you are.

“Maybe you don’t have enough for yourself.”

“Quit twisting words, say what you want to say. Communication is key to healing after all,” you quip, mentally planning a way to leave without leading him to Jason. “Or is this just a distraction so Dick can help you take me down? How long until he gets here? A minute? Maybe he’s waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in.”

“It’s just us,” Bruce responds. “It’s always been just us. No Nightwing, no Red Hood.”

It’s sad that you actually believed him. You almost say something, but the sweet scent of smoke fills your nose. Your eyes flash in recognition, and Bruce notices.

“Don’t, (Y/N),” he starts but cuts himself off. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you say, and your tone of voice makes him twitch. “We’ll see each other again soon enough.”

Taking one step backward, you run to the epicenter of the smoke. Using it as a cover, you quickly enter the sewers and run towards your rendezvous point. You chose to take a long way, giving yourself enough time to make sure that Bruce was not following you. Everything was checked over and torn apart just in case if there was a tracker placed on you. There was nothing that you found by the time you arrive.

You push the door open and lock it as soon as you enter. Jason places a hand on your shoulder, his fingers quickly running down to trace the damage on your suit. Your eyes follow his movements, finally noticing a hole with glowing blood surrounding it. Your blood.

“You okay?” he asks, hands still trying to soothe you.

“Yeah,” you reply, allowing the tension in your shoulders to dissipate. “Didn’t even know I hurt myself that bad.”

“He got to you, didn’t he?”

“No, he didn’t.” You say, removing your jacket and tossing it next to the door. “It’s funny, he said the same thing about you.”

“Of course he would,” he grumbles, guiding you to the couch.

“How long before phase 2?” you ask, sighing as you sat next to him.

“Don’t worry about that right now, we have plenty of time,” Jason smiles, dragging his fingers down your cheek. “You were amazing tonight.”

You smile back, relishing his touch, “I’m gonna rest, tonight took a lot out of me.”

He nods, retracting his hand. You stare into his green eyes, feeling right at home as you lean forward and mold your lips against his. Jason pulls you close, drawing a hiss out of you. He stops, casting you a worried glance.

“Sorry,” you mutter, pushing yourself up. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Silently, you enter your bedroom and shut the door. Taking in deep breaths, you force yourself to remove your clothes and enter the bathroom. As soon as you see yourself in the mirror you can’t help but stare. Your usual eye color is long gone, replaced with glowing green eyes similar to Jason’s. The consequences of using the pit was costly, but even now you still feel pieces of yourself disappearing.

You don’t usually lie to Jason, especially when it comes to Bruce, but you couldn’t help it. There were too many coincidences, too many gut feelings ignored. Gripping the countertop, you looked everywhere else but your eyes. Your wounds healed perfectly, but your thoughts still ran wild.

Was Bruce right? Who took your grappling hook? You move yourself away from the mirror. What would have happened if you didn’t catch yourself?

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine

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pjo-whore · 3 years

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Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years

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you reap what you sow

prompt from @mialuvscats : i hope this meets your expectations ! im sorry this took so long, i tried uploading it from my phone but it glitched and i could only get my hands on the computer today

i’d like to say that i think if sabine and mari are there, damian and talia willl be relatively looser and not as uptight . mari and sabine are cold but loving and sunshiney. they keep talia and damian in check, essentially. which is why i wrote them in to be loose and free but able to be openly happy when they want to be, even if they are only happy around each other.

with sabine here i also thinkt hat talia will be slightly easier on damian, which also ties to the fact that he will not be as cold and uptight.

talia will be a good mother in this fic bc i want her to be and itll be ooc but its okay its my fic anyway

and the timeline is kinda messed up and all over the place sorry

that aside, have fun reading and i hope you enjoy!

talia and sabine are best friends, and before most of the class joins francois, marinette ruled the school after coming to paris with sabine. mari and damian are betrothed and the two are best friends. they can be icy one minute and sunshiney the next, although the sunshiney part is more mari than damian.

maybe the waynes come to paris, bc if theyre in gotham the others wont really know if the queen is back, and theyre kinda unsure why marinette is being timid and very unlike her ice queen demeanor she sometimes uses. mari is closest to jason in terms of batfam because firstly maybe she cleanses jason of the lazarus pit after helping damian using tikki's creation magic to counteract plagg's destruction one. since the waynes are here theres no point in mari hiding her queen status anymore and queue lila reveal

Talia al Ghul and Sabine Cheng were an unlikely combination, but worked perfectly well.

The two women were extremely close. Sabine was almost as deadly as Talia, but she made up for it with her devious mindset. She was the one who steered Talia away from doing anything wrong --well more wrong than usual-- and the one who was assigned to dish out punishments to usurpers.

The two could read each other like open books, and hence, when both Talia and Sabine became pregnant, Talia one month before Sabine, the two knew immediately.

They had debated whether or not to have their kids be betrothed, and eventually decided to let their children make the final call when their kids were old enough to understand.

Nine months later, Marinette and Damian were born. In the League infirmary, an hour after the two were cleaned and left there to rest while their mothers did the same, the two had already grown rather close.

Their baby cribs were next to each other, and somehow they were staring at each other through the walls of the crib, and were making small grabby hands to the other.

When Talia and Sabine were sufficiently rested and came to pick up their children, they were slightly shocked, yet gratified by their children. Sabine smiled and draped an arm around Talia’s shoulder, smiling lazily.

“I guess they’ll be as close as their mothers, non?”

Talia smirked, and the two walked forwards, lifting their respective children in their arms and walking to their quarters.

The two mothers did not regret it. Their kids were enamoured with each other, practically joined at the hip.

By the time Marinette and Damian were 5, they had a very extensive vocabulary, since they had learned to speak Arabic, French and English. They were also extremely smart and skilled with weapons.

Marinette was extremely adept at using a yoyo. It seemed weird, I know. But when the League was stormed when she was 3, she had taken out 4 men with her yoyo alone. Since then, she had been teaching herself how to use the yoyo effectively.

Damian preferred to use a katana. He looked much scarier than Marinette, even if the two were the same age. He had found a natural talent in using blades, knives, katanas and daggers included.

Marinette was the Rain to Damian’s Fire.

She was the only one who could calm Damian down when he was mad, mad.

But make no mistake, Marinette could switch personalities in a heartbeat. She was one of the League’s most skilled interrogators at the age of 5.

After all, who would suspect a pigtailed 5 year old in pink to be scary?

Damian much preferred his stoic and icy attitude. The only people he ever let loose around was Marinette, Sabine, and Talia.

Talia and Sabine loved the children to an almost deadly extent, and the four were extremely overprotective of each other.

Marinette had taken to magic as well. She had been trained by many people in the League about sensing magic. Damian did not have the patience for magic and rituals.

Marinette knew Damian was more of a ‘attack first ask questions later’ type of fighter, a stark contrast to Marinette’s ‘i will curse you and you will suffer in agonising pain for the rest of your life’ preferred type of fighting.

She’d never really liked getting her hands dirty, hence the magic. Killing people with magic was so much cleaner.

Sabine and Marinette had to leave for Paris when she was 9. For what, she wasn’t sure, but regardless of the distance, she and Damian constantly traded calls and letters. They would never go even a day without contact.

They were staying with one of Sabine’s old friends. His name was Tom Dupain, and he was an old wrestler and had worked with the League before. He and Sabine pretended to be married and Marinette’s name had hence became Marinette Dupain Cheng.

Damian and Talia stayed at the League, although all of them knew that Damian was to meet his birth father when he turned 10.

Marinette adapted her icy demeanor in Paris, never wanting anyone to get as close as she was with Damian.

A few hours in, walking around Paris, she had met an elderly man in a red Hawaiian shirt, emitting the aura of magic. She had confronted him, and eventually, he opened up to her about the Miraculous. Tikki, the Ladybug kwami, and Plagg, the Black Cat kwami had taken a liking to her.

Marinette was apparently something called a True User, a reincarnation of the first Ladybug miraculous wielder. Plagg just rather liked the aura of death and chaos she apparently gave off, from the League.

She and the other Kwamis also had a rather amicable relationship, and she’d go to the ends of the Earth for the tiny gods, and vice versa.

The elderly man, named Fu, had also started to train her into becoming the new Guardian of the Miraculous.

Before, Marinette had been planning on laying low and not drawing atention to herself, but once she had beaten up two upperclassmen for bullying her classmate and somewhat accquaintance Nino, she had been fiercely regarded by both the students and faculty.

As a result, she eventually grew close to Nino, and his friends, Kim, Alix and Chloe. She only ever let down her icy demeanour around them, showing the bright and bubbly girl persona she kept hidden. She wasn’t as close to them as she was to Damian, but they were all still quite close friends.

It wasn’t long after that Marinette became the queen of her school, at the tender age of 10, earning her title as the Ladybug. Or, as Chloe liked to put it, the Lady, because she was lucky enough to ‘get a friend like her’.

Marinette didn’t protest. She rather liked Ladybugs, and besides, it was ironic and it reminded her a little of Damian, who sometimes liked to call her his Maribug. Because she was sometimes a pest, he deadpanned. Marinette had whacked him with a pillow.

Everyone in the school feared the Ladybug. No one knew anything of her past. She was a mystery, an enigma that no one could solve. When new students came in after Marinette turned 14, everyone was slightly shocked to see their Lady change.

She was much more bubbly and approachable. Word had spread around that Marinette, the Lady, was trying a clean slate for the new kids. After all, not everyone should fear her.

Probably.

School eventually returned to what it was like before Marinette became the Lady, although she did still rule the school, she did it much more subtly, with more restraint and secrecy.

One of the new kids, Alya, had taken a liking to her. Marinette did not like her very much, she was loud and clingy and drew a lot of unwanted attention.

Marinette and her old crew, who had playfully called themselves her Consorts before the name stuck, had split up temporarily, to cover more ground and spread their branches.

Chloe was to pretend to be Marinette’s bully, Kim and Alix rivals, and Nino a shy recluse. They had had a good laugh about it beforehand, before watching Moana, because Kim wanted to compare the size of his muscles to Maui’s.

None of them had accounted for Adrien Agreste, who had tried to get the gum off Marinette’s seat like the naive, sheltered boy he was. Marinette had admittedly gotten mad at him for screwing up a perfectly good plan, before ramping up her ice persona to like, a 2/10, to get the newbies off her scent and scare Adrien away.

It hadn’t worked, because the boy was apparently as stubborn as he was naive. But besides that, Alya had been really grating on Marinette’s nerves, especially since she was convinced that Marinette had a crush on the model. It was not true, of course.

Honestly, Marinette thought dryly, as Alya dragged her all over the place to.. somewhere, she wasn’t even sure anymore. But frankly, she didn’t particularly care. Honestly, the only boy she’d probably ever have a crush on would be Damian.

Not that she’d ever admit it.

When Marinette and Damian turned 10, she and Sabine had taken a plane to Gotham to meet up with Damian.

Damian had not been having a good time. He was very much unwanted here, that was clear.

Grayson seemed to be the only one trying to interact with him. His father, had been trying his best to stay out of Damian’s way, which he reciprocated. Todd was flat out ignoring him and Drake just seemed to be busy all the time.

After all, who would want to interact with a grumpy 10 year old assassin?

He missed Marinette.

It was the day Todd finally tried to open up to Damian, that Marinette had arrived. No one had told him that she was finally meeting him again for the first time in a year. Sabine had left Marinette to figure out where Damian was on her own. She was more than capable of it.

With a quick scrying spell, she found him, and Kaalki opened a portal headed in the direction of Wayne Manor.

Meanwhile, Damian just appreciated the fact that Todd was finally extending an olive branch. He was lonely.

It hurt seeing his father care for everyone in the manor apart from him.

He had been walking along the gardens in the manor. Todd had joined him.

“Listen, I know it’s hard to feel accepted here. Sometimes, I do.” Jason gazed wistfully at the sky above him.

Damian was unsure of where the ex-Robin was getting at, so he just kept quiet. It wasn’t as if Damian didn’t know who Jason Todd was. Before he had come to the manor with Talia, he had read the Waynes’ files. In addition, Damian had known of Jason while he was affiliated with the League. They had never talked, or interacted, but he had known of the elder boy.

“I just, uh, wanted you to know that if you ever need anything, you can come to me.” He finished lamely, running a hand in his hair.

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating. “Thank you, Ja--Todd. I will.” He settled on saying dryly.

Jason visibly relaxed and cracked a miniscule smile. There was a sudden ‘swoosh’ sound, and both Jason and Damian turned around, bodies automatically going on the defensive.

Stumbling out of Alfred’s rose bushes, trodding on a few accidentally, was Marinette.

“Angel!” Damian exclaimed, moving forwards to help her forwards.

She brushed her shoulders off, looking around before freezing, staring at something behind him.

“Jay?”

“Pixie?” He asked, sounding incredulous.

Marinette rushed forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Jason laughed and hugged her back, chuckling.

Damian quashed down the bubbling feeling of rage in the pit of his stomach and settled for casting a frosty glance in their direction. Not that they noticed, since they were too busy embracing each other, Damian thought scornfully.

The two pulled apart after too long in Damian’s opinion, laughing.

“Angel? How do you know Todd?” Damian asked coldly, ever so protective.

If Jason noticed the sudden reversion to his surname instead of his first, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, he came to Paris with Lia once and I cleansed him of the Lazarus pit madness, like I did with you.” She replied.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked. Damian had forgotten about that.

“Visiting, of course!” She winked. “Now, let’s give your old man a good scare.” She pecked Damian on the cheek before vanishing. (Thanks, Trixx.)

Jason and Damian looked to each other. “Did you know she could do that?” Jason questioned. Damian shook his head before pausing.

“Wait.. how did she get into the manor?”

The only response was the faint echo of a laugh.

It was time for dinner anyway, and only Damian, Jason, and Alfred knew of Marinette’s presence. Marinette had voluntary evelaed herself to the elderly butler after noticing his aura.

It was Miraculous tainted. If Marinette could guess, he had been either one of Duusu’s, Sass’s, or Nooroo’s.

When the butler had retired to the kitchen alone, Marinette had unraveled Trixx’s magic veiling her and waved at the butler.

To hi credit, he didn’t so much as bat an eye before his eyes widened as he took her in. Marinette cut to the chase.

“Who was your kwami?” Alfred had surveyed her for a second before seemingly trusting her.

“Duusu.” He answered.

Marinette smiled. “I’m Tikki’s.” From her perch in Marinette’s left pigtail, the red Kwami pried open the folds of her hair, waving once at Alfred before sinking back into the recesses of the bluenette’s locks.

Alfred blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m presuming you’re staying for dinner?”

Marinette beamed. “I’m gonna scare the big bat.” Alfred nodded, accepting this. Marinette clapped her hands and she disappeared again. Alfred shook his head, smiling faintly.

Conveniently, it was one of the times where everyone was there. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. Rare these days, what with Dick in Bludhaven, Tim at WE, and Jason off being Jason.

Bruce was currently on his way back from WE, although it would take around half an hour. He had told everyone to start eating first. Perfect.

After Marinette’s encounter with Alfred, she had reappeared in Damian’s room, where she and Damian caught up. Just like old times.

She had disappeared again once she left the room, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure where she went.

Alfred set the the table as per normal, which Damian and Jason noticed right away. They looked to Alfred, who merely winked before stepping back into the kitchen and laying out the food.

There was a screech of a chair as Marinette, disguised as Bruce (Trixx in her right pigtail and Tikki in the left) sat down. Dick looked startled.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back till later!” Dick exclaimed.

Mari-Bruce shrugged. “Faster than I’d expected.” She answered, securing the veil of Trixx’s magic around her vocal chords, making her voice sound exactly like Bruce’s.

Jason inched away slightly from Bruce, though she pretended not to notice.

Alfred nodded at her as he reentered the room.

Everyone dug in, occasionally talking. It had been about 25 minutes before the sound of the door opening could be heard. Damian and Jason’s head shot up, thinking it was Marinette.

Mari-Bruce smirked. Showtime.

Bruce entered the room, not noticing Mari at first. Until the batboys gaped at him. He looked confused. What--?

Mari-Bruce was a pretty great actress. “Who are you?” She thundered, internally laughing.

“Who are you? I’m Bruce Wayne.” He answered, looking befuddled and frustrated.

“Impostor.” Mari-Bruce accused.

Bruce spluttered. “No! I’m the real Bruce!”

Mari-Bruce scoffed. “That’s what an impostor would say.”

Damian and Jason seemed to figure it out, although they probably weren’t sure which Bruce was the real one yet.

Tim rubbed his eyes. “Am I seeing double, or?”

Bruce said, “Ask me something the real Bruce would know.”

Dick looked torn, but did as requested. “Who murdered your parents?”

“Joe Chill.” They both said at the same time. Mari-Bruce and Bruce winced, selling the act.

“When’s my birthday?” Tim asked.

“July 17th.” Both Bruces answered.

Tim looked surprised. “You actually know my birthday?”

“No shit, Tim.” Mari-Bruce said, rolling their eyes. She rather wanted to proceed to the next part of her plan.

“Would I say that to you, Tim?” Bruce asked slightly desperately.

“Maybe?”

Bruce facepalmed. In the confusion, Mari took the chance to slink into the shadows where she rewrapped Trixx’s invisible magic around her.

Only Damian noticed. He smirked. “Where did he go?” He asked, placing a hand on the hilt of his katana for emphasis. He didn’t see Marinette smile at him.

Everyone looked panicked. “Search the manor.” Bruce ordered.

Jason still looked slightly skeptical but did as he said. Damian drew his katanas and tilted it in the direction he was going.

Amongst everyone, Bruce was the most attacked. While Jason and Damian paired off, Tim and Dick did as well, ("Don’t go alone!” Was Bruce’s admonished cry), Bruce had gone alone.

If she were being honest, Marinette had always had a grudge against the billionaire. He hadn’t saved his son, he had tried to kill his son, even though he had a no killing rule --which Marinette thought was plain stupid--, and he had left Damian to suffer at the hands of Ra’s Al Ghul.

Talia could only do so much to save her son.

Yes, Marinette was aware that Bruce hadn’t know Damian existed, but now he was still treating Damian as if he didn’t exist. Marinette knew how much Damian craved affection, even if he never admitted it.

Yes, maybe Bruce was getting better, but maybe she could.. spur the process.

So Marinette retaliated in one of the many ways she knew how.

Messing with them.

So when the Waynes regrouped in the dining room, Jason, Damian, Dick and Tim came back unharmed, and Jason had been filled in by Damian of his suspicions. But Bruce?

He came back covered in honey and feathers, drenched with water and covered in pink slime.

“Why is he going after me?” Bruce had questioned in that annoying voice of his, after looking over his spotless sons.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t like you. God knows he’s not the only one.”

Bruce looked slightly hurt but Jason didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Maybe this person is infatuated with you and is vying for your attention.” Damian deadpanned dryly. Marinette had smacked him on the back of his head, still invisible.

But the damage had been done.

Bruce snapped his fingers and ‘aha!’-ed at Damian. “That must be it!” Bruce crowed.

“Are you that narcissistic, you arrogant plebeian?” Marinette’s normally cheery voice was dry and dripping with distaste as she unwrapped her magic.

Bruce, Dick and Tim immediately went on the defensive, shifting into a battle stance. Marinette only scoffed.

“If I wanted to harm you, I would have already done so.” Marinette waved a hand in their direction dismissively.

Dick looked confused. “You’re like, ten.” He pointed out.

Damian glared. “I am ten as well, Grayson.”

Tim butted in. “Are we not going to acknowledge the fact that this tiny ten year old broke into the manor unnoticed?”

That brought everyone to their senses.

They were suddenly surprised by Marinette running at Jason, full speed. They expected him to duck or whip out a weapon, but all he did was stand still as she flipped in midair to land on his shoulders.

To their utter shock, Jason grinned, even as she fisted her hands in his hair for a better grip.

Damian only smiled fondly at his Angel. She was as short as he remembered, Damian noted.

He missed her. More than anything.

Marinette beamed, and slid off Jason’s shoulders.

“Why did you attack me?” Bruce asked. “Isn’t it obvious, fool?” Marinette revamped her icy demeanor and glared at the civilian Batman. “I despise you.”

Bruce looked very affronted. But Mariinette ignored him, even as he continued talking and made her way over to Damian.

“Damibear!” Marinette sang, as if she hadn’t seen him less than an hour ago.

The Waynes looked as if they expected Damian to attack her just for calling him that. They were not expecting him to grin and say, “Angel.”

Mari jumped on his back, and Damian merely repositioned himself accordingly, used to this from all her previous piggybacks.

“Okay so Jason and Damian helped her get into the manor.” Tim deduced, only to notice Jason and Damian shaking their heads.

“All by herself.” Damian and Jason chorused. Marinette made bunny ears on top of Damian’s head.

She kissed Damian’s forehead lovingly, replying to his ‘i am older than you’ with a ‘yeah by like a week’, and looked to his family.

She winked.

Then disappeared.

There was silence, and then, “Wait, we didn’t even get her name!” From Dick.

Damian and Jason were interrogated that night, and they refused to tell them anything related to Marinette.

Marinette smiled from where she had hidden in the shadows, and made her way back to Damian’s room. She curled up in Damian’s bed, drifting into sleep. She was almost asleep when Damian returned.

And when Damian pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered, “Goodnight, Angel”, a smile made her way onto her lips.

By the time Damian had slipped into bed with her, her head leaning comfortably on his chest, she had fallen asleep.

When the two turned 15, Talia and Sabine sat them down and told them about the betrothal. Damian had been visiting with Talia.

It had been almost two months since Lila had turned her classmates against her, not that she cared, of course. She still had her Consorts after all.

“Marinette, Damian, we’d like to tell you something. An offer? Of sorts. I’m relatively sure you will accept, however.”

Talia smiled as Marinette dragged a grumpy Damian over to them by the head, beaming brightly.

“Oh come on, Mian! Don’t be such a grumpy banana.” Marinette reprimanded the older boy who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The boy only smiled lazily, and ran another hand through his best friend’s hair, the girl making a small noise of protest. “Thats what you get for calling me a noodle, Angel.” (if you didn’t know miàn means noodle in chinese)

Sabine cleared her throat but looked at the two with amusement clear in her eyes.

They straightened. “Sorry, maman,” Mari muttered.

“Now, before you two were born, Sabine and I had an agreement. We are perfectly fine with this and the implications of it, so it is up to you to whether to accept or not.” Talia got straight to the point.

The two children looked to each other curiously before turning back to their parents. Damian nodded in acknowledgment and Sabine picked up where Talia left off.

“How do you feel about each other?” Sabine asked, watching the two closely for their reactions.

“If that’s your way of asking us if we’re okay to be siblings, since you and Lia are dating, Maman--” Marinette started but was quickly interrupted by a barely noticeably flushed Talia.

“No, not that, and we aren’t dating, Nette.” Talia aimed a playful glare at the girl, who grinned and blew a raspberry at her.

“How would you and Damian like to be betrothed?” Sabine asked, smiling at her friend and daughter fondly.

Marinette spluttered and Damian coughed.

Talia and Sabine burst out into laughter.

After the adults got their laughter under control and after a few glares from their kids, Damian spoke up.

“Marinette is my best friend. If I had to be betrothed to anyone, I’m glad it’s her.” Damian looked away and Marinette coughed awkwardly into her elbow.

“You misunderstand us. You don’t have to be betrothed. The choice is yours.”

Damian felt slightly attacked. He really did like Marinette, and the betrothal was an easy excuse to ask her out (even if he was a 15 year old). He didn’t know if Marinette felt the same way, and he didn’t want to impose that on her, so he kept quiet.

Marinette, who was looking deep in thought, answered.

“Can I talk to Damian for a while, privately?”

Damian, despite his better judgement, winced. This was probably the first time in a really long time that Marinette called him by his full name. It was normally Dami, Damibear to annoy him, or some other weird nickname like Mr Grumpy Banana this morning.

Regardless, the bluenette hadn’t called him “Damian” for a very long time. Two years, maybe.

She walked out of the room, Damian trailing slightly behind, before stopping a few feet outside the room.

Marinette slid down onto the floor, her back pressed against it and head in her hands. Damian frowned. He didn’t want his best friend looking so.. dejected. He ignored the slight pang of hurt that the thought of being with him could get this kind of reaction out of her.

He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder like he always did when any of them felt upset. He was happy to feel her lean into his side like she always did.

She turned her head and buried it in Damian’s side, breathing in his comforting scent of paints and nature. He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly and she almost burst into tears.

It wasn’t that she was opposed to being in an engagement with Damian, it was just that she didn’t particularly want to be with anyone or love anyone, especially after her father died and Damian’s father abandoned him.

Her mother and aunt didn’t show it, but they were sad about their fathers. She had heard Talia interacting with her ‘beloved’ before, and it almost always ended up in tears or frustration. (Not that Mari blamed her, Bruce was kind of an asshole.)

She felt Damian’s chin press into her scalp and a hint of a smile grazed her lips. But this was Damian. Damian who was her best friend. Damian who supported her no matter what. Damian who comforted her and was there for her whenever she needed it.

Damian would never hurt her. And she was determined never to hurt him, ever, if she could help it.

She looked up and smiled at Damian. The smile he loved so much, the smile she always had on whenever she saw him, the smile that would unconsciously fly to her lips whenever she heard his voice.

Maybe it was then that Marinette should’ve known that she loved her best friend, but then again, she was only fifteen. She didn’t know what love was. But she would. Very soon.

“We accept.” Damian told Sabine and Talia when they reentered the room.

“We thought you would.” Talia replied.

When Marinette turned 16, her last year at Francois Dupont, six months since she’d made Lila’s time a living hell with her Ladybug (both in suit and in school), and fashion clients connections, the Waynes had visited.

Turns out, Damian and Jason got caught trying to sneak onto the Wayne private jet but instead of stopping them, they insisted they came along too, having pieced together that Damian and Jason were going to visit the mysterious tiny girl they couldn’t find the name of.

So they had no choice.

And os that leads to now, with the Waynes standing in the courtyard, elicting a growing crowd as they waited for Marinette, looking the part of scary rich people that can end your life without a problem.

Damian suddenly started running, and he hugged a girl. No one could see who the girl was because her head was buried in Damian’s chest and his body was shielding hers.

Not many people in the courtyard was surprised when they pulled away and standing there was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all, she was one of the most successful students in class that didn’t get fame from famous relatives. No, al her fame was hers alone.

In fact, the only people surprised were Marinette’s class, not-so-fondly referred to as the Akuma Class. Her Consorts were the only one who knew of her betrothed, Damian. Other than that, Marinette had never been willing to share.

When Marinette saw the other Waynes however, after hugging Jason, she rolled her eyes. Bruce, Dick and Tim stalked forwards, looking every inch the scary billionaires they were.

It was broken by Dick hugging the girl and gushing over how cool she was. Tim smiled at her and she had smiled back. Marinette flipped Bruce the bird.

“Why are you... so sunny? You definitely weren’t like that when you threatened us in Gotham. You were such an ice queen.” Tim mentioned, failing to keep the amusement out of his tone.

“What do you mean? Marinette’s always been like that, even if she is a bitch now. There’s no way she can be cold.” Alya remarked snidely.

Alix and Chloe stalked forward, raising thier fists threatningly. But Marinette only laughed coldly.

“You wanna see cold, Cesaire?” Marinette snarled, dropping all acts of being nice.

The Lady was back. Publicly.

The silence was interrupted by Rose, who asked, "But Lila, don't you know the Waynes?"

Said Lila had been trying to slink away unnoticed, but when her name was mentioned, all attention diverted back to her, effectively keeping her in place. Her pale face and scared eyes were enough to tell that she had indeed been lying.

Yells and screams broke out across the courtyard as the Akuma Class berated Lila for lying to them all this while. Until, Marinette interrupted, face set in a ice cold, stony position

"Okay, blame her for lying." She started. "But why did you believe her?"

The Akuma Class drew a blank and didn't respond. Partially because they didn't know what to say, and partially because Marinette's mere presence was overwhelmingly intimidating. Marinette sighed and pressed on.

"Everything the Liar has said can be found faulty by a simple internet search." It was true, and the class knew it. When no one replied, Marinette shook her head sardonically. "You reap what you sow."

She turned to her betrothed. In an instant, her icy mood was gone, replaced with the sunshiney-ness the Akuma Class had grown used to.

"C'mon, Dami!" She gave him a quick peck on the lips, hoisting herself up on Damian's back. Damian grasped her legs tightly, as she continued to be piggybacked by him.

"Onward!" She cried out dramatically, pointing to the school exit.

Damian only rolled his eyes fondly at his beloved, steering themselves out, her Consorts and his family behind them.

None of them looked back.

If they did, they would've seen the expressions of disbelief and regret etched onto every one of her old classmates' faces.

Not that they would care.

5k words yay

also uh yeah again, sorry this took so long, i kept hitting a mental block while writing this and it didnt manage to upload from my phone for no good reason :(

but anyway its up now, i hope u find this acceptable! :)

#maribat #mari is raised by the league #talia is actl a good parent in this fic bc i can #sabine is a queen as always #marinette is a godess #she is an icy queen #yes ik i spelled goddess wrong #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc x ml #betrothed #daminette #okay i think im done #i dont really know what else to tag

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iloveitwhen · 4 years

Text

Soulmates

Last Jasonette July post that I should have dealt with ages agooooo! yay me!

@jasonette-july-2k20

Sibling Jasonette I did first meetings here though I guess it can be read without it

“Soulmates?”

Marinette had brought Jason and Adrien up into her room to not freak out in front of her parents and potential passerby/customers and also figure out how Jason saw through the magic. The freaking out was done and Plagg and Tikki were explaining possible reasons for the cause of it.

“Yes, the true wielder of the Black Cat Miraculous should be able to see through Ladybug’s identity and vice versa. They are Soulmates, the only ones in existence, there have been a few platonic and sibling pairings but they are usually romantic, obviously this is not the case.”

“Ok,” Jason says slowly, eyebrows scrunched together, “but he’s Chat Noir,” he pointed at Adrien then looked back at the black Kwami. “And I caught that the moment I saw him, same hair, same shade of green in his eyes, and same terrible puns. I mean I wasn’t sure at first but the puns really sold it for me.”

“Hey!” Adrien protested while the others laughed at him.

“From what you’re saying everybody else can’t even remember what their faces look like and they immediately get distracted by something else when thinking of the identity, but that doesn't happen to me. When I think of the others I can see their faces clearly in my mind and some of them have distinct looks that I could probably use to find their identities.”

The other four began to ponder this when Plagg and Tikki began talking in a strange language. Adrien looked at Marinette but she just shrugged, she was the guardian but she didn’t know that language.

After a minute or so Tikki spoke up in french again.

“Jason, what do you know of the Pits of Life and Death?” Immediately Jason thought back to the Lazarus Pits and shuddered.

“Green pools of nasty looking water?” Tikki’s eyes grew wide and Plagg huffed.

“Yes,” Tikki replied. “You’ve been revived, haven’t you?” Jason paused for a moment but nodded.

“They’re known as the Lazarus Pits now, I was dead for two years before I was thrown in.” He looked up from his spot on the floor to the standing Marinette expecting a reaction from her but she was only chewing the inside of her cheek with her arms loosely crossed.

“You knew.” he stated, watching her. A guilty expression crossed over her face and she looked away.

“Hey Adrien, can you leave for a moment? You can help Maman with dinner.” The boy quickly took the hint and nodded and slipped down the trap door. After he was gone Marinette sighed and started slowly pacing her room.

“A long time ago I learned from my mother that my biological mother, Sheila Haywood, had a son with another man and when he came to visit her he was killed by the Joker in an explosion. My biological father knew this because he was there and met you and Bruce Wayne briefly, but when I looked it up Robin was brutally beat and killed by the Joker and he was the only one who fit your description that was there that day. Later Bruce Wayne revealed that his adopted son, Jason Todd, had died in an accident. When I found articles of your return I grew suspicious since it was clear you died so I assumed someone else took your place and name but when Tikki told me about the pits I figured that that was how you came back. She was giving me a history lesson of her and Plagg’s wishes when the Pits of Life and Death were mentioned, I was interested and dug deeper and found that two years after your death Red Hood appeared, and not long after Jason Todd did too. Red Hood was apparently on a mission to kill the joker and cleanse the city of crime. What first made me suspect that you were Red Hood was the way you treated the Joker, the same way he treated Robin. Soon after that I made all the necessary connections and confirmed that you were alive and taking the name of Red Hood. After that all I had to do you find out where you lived.”

Jason was honestly a little horrified that she knew so much about him, that he had done so much bad and she knew all about it. His face was slack as he looked up at his sister who was growing in anxiety watching his reaction.

“So you knew everything,” he whispered.

Marinette nodded her head. “I’m sorry Jay.” Jason shook his head as if to shake out the bewilderment.

“It’s ok, you’d find out sooner or later anyways I suppose. That’s why you picked me from the bats didn’t you?”

“Yeah. That and we don’t want the news of this spreading, it would not be good to have a bunch of evil people in search of the Miraculous.

#sibling jasonette #i did research i promise #maribat #jasonette july

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xatanna-troy · 3 years

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The Performer.

okay this is very messy, so full disclaimer.

i've seen some headcanons go around on what exactly would Dick grayson's job be now that people finally realize how horrible cops are. And it sort of makes sense why it wouldn't work out smoothly for him to continue pursuing a career in law enforcement.

i've seen a lot of good headcanons on his job but they never sat right with me. no offense to the authors of those. But may i introduce my personal headcanon--

@batwngs talked about how Dick is very well versed in literature and a few instances where he's narrating or acting out a story to a loved one. and they followed it up with the notion of him acting out hamlet or a scene from romeo and juliet for his lover.

They also mentioned that we do, typically, as a fandom place the trope of a literature geek onto jason's character; when he's more of a theatre geek. If i had to pick a job for Jason i would think it would definitely have to do with pursuing an academic career, something which would definitely work into his favor and let him choose which subject he prefers--be it literature or the arts.

But for Dick? i think it would make sense for him to be an actor.

Like to an extent, an actor atleast of musicals or literary adaptions. He is already a well known and charismatic public figure, being Bruce's son, so it would make sense for him to hop in and out of an acting career.

To quote Anne Carson, *Grief lessons: Four plays by Euripides

"There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn’t that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life. Within it you watch [yourself] act out the present or possible organization of your nature. You can be aware of your own awareness of this nature as you never are at the moment of experience. The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours."

In essence, this would make sense for me. Dick is already an established character where performing is in his blood. As well as service to others. The joy of bringing a performance that involves something he is passionate about but also helps bring joy and happiness to his audience is something which he could only get when he was a Flying Grayson.

He could pursue a life of acting, he could provide an interesting version of service that doesn't involve putting his life on the line. He could be flexible with his work as he is already a public figure and the idea of who wouldn't want to see a movie or play starring the most attractive wayne boy?

Dick is talented and he is versatile and if he were to take part in movies depicting harsh realities, i feel like he would do well in those too--considering some of them could be from experience.

And when it gets too much? He can always take a break. He could do one movie or play or show or a set of them and then never come back to the spotlight because he can. Actors can and have done it!

Tl:Dr

Dick Grayson as an Actor is a headcanon which would finally sit right with me.

#i have to thank batwngs for this #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing headcanon #officer grayson #actor dick grayson

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runnfromtheak · 3 years

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tagged by @icosagens!!! such an eloquent and stunning writer with a sharp sense of humor srsly go check him out on ao3! <3 Specifically check out his JayDickDonna fic, CHCl3 which is beautiful and painful and just E V E R Y T H I N GGGGG.

I'll put everything under the cut so there isn't a terrible amount of scrolling for those wishing to skip <3

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Anchors of Mortality

AKA my new passion project where Dick has a savior complex and no self-preservation skills featuring a Constantine who just wants to Tap That, a Zatanna who is tired and also wants to Tap That, and a host of resurrected characters because Dick can't let things lie or die. Ships include JayDick and Magic^2Dick (or Dick/Zee/Constantine)

Life ends and life begins in rain, at least as far as Dick Grayson is concerned. His parents died on a rainy day, ice-cold droplets seeping in through the bright, thick cloth of the circus tents. A drizzle, Haly had called it beforehand, telling them not to worry. But rain is an omen – a warning – of an uncertain future, of conflicting emotions and thoughts. It had been a sign he’d been foolish to ignore, a sign Haly had been foolish to ignore.

everything casts a shadow

AKA SladeDick with Slade being the Worst and Dick straight up not having a good time

Zatanna used to say that rain has a cleansing effect on the heart and the soul – and the cock, Constantine would always interject with a filthy leer of promise. Rain purifies negative energy from a space, murder or magic, and rain settles the anxious mind. The three of them had made love in the rain once, intertwining limbs and the glow of magic refracted throughout the cold droplets. Three hearts aligned in a crystalline world of skin and water, for a perfect moment.

a prayer for which no words exist

JayDick where Dick has issues and needs therapy. Like a true emotional support/projection character, he reads instead.

On nights he can’t sleep, he reads.

Dick’s always enjoyed books, had grown up with yellowed pages musty with the scent of age as comfort and entertainment, but he’d stopped reading frequently when he’d grown up. With everything else, with responsibility atop responsibility atop responsibility as he’d aged, he hadn’t the time or the mental capacity to love reading like he had before. He hadn’t been able to focus or concentrate, always oscillating between too keyed up and too exhausted. The words, when he’d try and sift through the neurochemical adrenaline high and sift through the luring temptress of melatonin and sleep deprivation, would float and float and float away like distant birds migrating to a new land.

i'm addicted to the way you hurt (i don't mind if you fuck up my life)

JayDick where Dick is a female and also depressed but not in a sexy way. Very Spuffy s6 vibes if ya know what I mean.

When she comes back to life, her world is a nuclear green.

She’s embraced by something; it cradles her, like she’s a precious bundle of jewels, like something perfect to be coveted. There’s warmth where she rests her head, breasts pillowed beneath her, and she’s held close enough to feel that rhythmic cadence like a siren call to life.

warning signs can feel like they're butterflies (i won't stop 'till i get where you are)

Johnlock fic because I got into the fandom late where Sherlock just can't say no and everyone is sad.

He shoots her blackmailer on Christmas Day on the front porch of a cold mansion.

It’s a good shot – clean, precise – with an entry wound and an exit wound. Bits of brain matter coated in blood spatter at Magnussen's back, a dead-eyed look of shock in his empty eyes.

hold your breath 'till we're in too deep (my love is a mood ring)

JayDick where Dick just wants to love Jason and people (*cough* Jason *cough*) make this a difficult venture.

The thing is: Jason Todd is dead.

The thing is: Jason Todd is holding a detonator in his right fist and a gun in his left, both pointed in Dick’s direction in a fairly menacing way.

The thing is: Dick’s vision is blurry from what may or may not be a concussion and there are little floating Batmen spinning around his head in diapers like a horrifying rendition of Cupid, so his assessments may not be entirely accurate.

i wanna waste my youth on you

DickDonna where Dick Grayson is a fucking simp for Donna Troy but aren't we all? (the correct answer is yes. if you said no, only god can help you now.)

He’s ten and she’s eleven and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved (running in circles now look what you've done)

Johnlock and Adlock where Sherlock picks sex over drugs and John is Not Pleased.

It starts right after the funeral dressed up as a wedding. Tables of decorations he’d picked, dishes he’d selected, color pallets he’d painstakingly coordinated and plotted. John and Mary’s song, weaved from his tears and his blood spilt like ink over the dancefloor as his violin grieves with him.

She’s pregnant. Sherlock smiles, as the best friend is meant to, and John smiles, as the father is meant to, and Mary smiles and it’s all normal and proper and Sherlock’s frozen before she pulls John away with something so horribly knowing in her eyes, before they kiss sweetly on a dancefloor he’d helped pick and lose themselves in throngs of friends and family.

light at the beginning of the tunnel (but he tells me that i'm dreaming)

Johnlock where Sherlock pines and does drugs post T6T.

He hadn’t intended to return. Victorian London holds its own sort of allure, delicious danger at every corner, nothing but pure intellect unaided by modern machinations to solve puzzles of every sort—

(a John Watson that still looks at you like you hung the sun and the stars just for him, like you’re the center he orbits, a gravity he doesn’t care to escape. A place where deductions still evoke tenderness, approval. Where John Watson still wants to hear your voice and cares for you, even with Mary.)

—but it had been dangerous. It had been utterly reckless, a calculated OD with no less than five compounds of varying effects, each boosting the others into a delightful failing of his heart that hadn’t lasted because his transport’s tenacity outweighed his mind’s desires. The fanciful realm where his life hadn’t gone to complete and utter shite had never been a conscious plan. Sherlock hadn’t intended for his brain to grasp for a chain, a link to reality in the form of delusions and hallucinations and awful attempts at honesty. He hadn’t planned for a did you miss me? Despite all his claims to the contrary at the time.

me and you are such a beautiful tragedy (in love with agony)

JayDick Jason wants to be a good person but he's horny. AKA the new pitch for evil: come to the dark side, we have great sex or your ex that can and will kill you if you don't.

The thing about the Lazarus Pit is it consumes you. It’s greedy, like Midas’s touch on a cellular level. It replaces the old with the new – with it – carving a home in blood and soul for its will. For its intentions, passive though they seem at first. Mental stability is only one cost of such a bargain, but it’s by far the worst.

I mean, I used rain as a symbol/parallel twice but mehhh. I don't think I'm super duper set in any formula as far as first lines go. I think my fave would either be the Lazarus Pit line or the nuclear green one. I love my Pit consequences, okay?

Tagging @boyblunder-thedarkheir, @behindtherobinsmask, @luthienluinwe, @stevieraebarnes, and @bitterleafs!! <3

#tag game #my writing #snippets #snipples #fic #fanfic #jaydick #dc #johnlock #sherlock #adlock #dickdonna #ZeeConstantineDick #Magic^2Dick

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jasonspetertodds · 3 years

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the skeleton with a scythe

warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

Jason glanced around the basement that they were in, trying not to suffocate at the sheer amount of velvet that was covering the walls. There were fuchsia colored scones on the walls that illuminated the large neon purple light on the back wall. He squinted, not being able to make out the name, but he didn't supposed that mattered. He rolled his eyes at Steph who was merely grinning up at him, her hair had been pulled back into two small ponytails at the crown of her head with the rest being down. It gave her the illusion of having even more volume then she normally did with her curly blonde hair.

She was dressed in her trademark color, but this time it was a soft lavender instead of the royal purple of her uniform. She had talked to him endlessly on the way there about how she had found her shoes, which were vintage white leather platforms, at the thrift store Jason had recommended. Trying to distract him from the fact that she was leading him to seedy basement in the heart of the Alley. A basement that housed a self proclaimed 'psychic'. Jason knew realistically that soothsayers, at least in some part, existed. He did exist in a world full of aliens and magic.

But Jason knew this was a scam and so did Steph. He hadn't been able to taste the tell tale nectar sweetness of magic when he stepped foot into the parlor. She had sourced the fact that it was just a fun thing to do at least once in his life and Jason had begrudgingly found himself staring into the depths of the weird vintage poster on the back wall. The pink neon light flickered in the corner behind him. He was, for the most part, down to try something at least once. And he didn't really see the harm in indulging Steph, especially when she was trying so hard to make him feel comfortable.

And Jason was only going to admit this in the privacy of his own mind, but it was actually kind of sweet.

And Jason wanted to maintain the best relationship he had in the family to the best of his ability, especially because it offered the unlimited possibility of tag teaming his siblings but also Bruce.

"So?" Steph asked, gently prodding his side with her elbow, pulling him away from being entranced by what looked to be a rat skull with a peacock feather coming out from the eye socket. It also had a top hat on and a little bow tie. Jason looked at her flatly and then shrugged. He was interested to see where the night went, with what story this psychic was going to spit back out to him. It was at the very least going to be entertaining.

"I don't know," He finally, eyes shifting around the room, "It should be fun, I guess."

He saw her roll her eyes and cross her arms over her chest. He shrugged again, unbothered. His eyes settled on a stack of crystals sitting on a bookshelf next to a book. Jason squinted, not wanting to step any closer to the center table with a deck of cards spread out over it, trying to read it. It looked like a copy of Daemonologie by King James of all fucking people. Jason almost huffed out a laugh. Almost.

"Can you at least pretend to be excited about the prospect of spending time with your favorite honorary sibling?" She grumbled, exasperated. Jason gave her an amused smile, but before he could respond he heard footsteps outside of the parlor.

There was the small ringing of the bell behind him and Jason immediately regretted his former words. He could taste the stinging sweetness in the lower part of his jaw, pooling just under his molars as he heard the soft approach of footsteps. Steph must've seen him stiffen, but he was so thankful that she didn't say anything about it, just threw him a questioning look.

Why was it that he always attracted magic users?

He sighed internally, steeling himself before he turned and saw a rather young looking witch smiling back at his companion. Steph had mentioned offhandedly that she had also dragged Cass and Tim to the same psychic a while ago with interesting results. She had bright lavender dyed hair that was piled up into two buns just behind the crown of her head and a blinding smile. She was also wearing a full length velvet dress, which seemed like an oddly formal attire choice, but maybe Jason was just being judgemental.

She gave Jason a strange look when she slide past him, heeled boots muffled on the strange astral Persian rugs beneath their feet and the skirt of her dress swishing gently as she wandered back behind her table. Had Jason forgotten to greet her?

"Hi," He said, hesitantly, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he watched her. He didn't know why he was on edge. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up and like he wanted to claw his skin off. Maybe he should talk to Zantana or Constantine about how magic was affecting him in his second life, because the woman sitting in front of him didn't seem like a threat. If she was, Jason already would've taken her down. Besides, maybe she wasn't a psychic in the way that she was able to tell that he was a dangerous, murderous vigilante. Maybe she was just a witch who misread his discomfort for skepticism. Was that too much to hope for? For Jason, it probably was.

He was wary, to say the least when he finally followed suit and sat down at the table to the right of Steph. She still was looking at him weird, but he figured he could explain himself later. He forced himself to relax, trying not to flex his jaw as it tingled like it did when he ate sour candies, covered with acetic acid. Piercing through the muscle and down to the bone. At least he didn't feel like throwing up... yet. He straightened his posture, trying to keep as close to a neutral expression on his face as he possibly good, trying to ignore the way his eyes glowed in the mirror of to the side of him.

Steph tapped him gently on the forearm, feather light, a question. Jason's face softened and he nodded, trying his best to convey that he was alright. He was fine. This was okay. He could deal with the unease worming around in his soul for the forty five minutes it took for this to happen. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as the blond relaxed, nodding once and offering a slight smile to the woman with the cards.

The woman before him offered him an unsure smile, before motioning to the deck in front of her before she began cheerily, "Welcome!"

Jason offed a nod of acknowledgement and Steph's smile morphed into a brilliant one, mischief alight in her eyes at the night's events. He was focused more on keeping his face as politely blank as he possibly could without it being mistaken for rudeness. He watched as she reached forward, ring clad fingers curling around the majority of the deck of tarot cards. At first he thought she was going to start shuffling them, but instead she knocked three times on the top of the stack. Maybe to cleanse it? Jason glanced back up at her face, uncertainty writhing around in the pit of his stomach.

"My name is Iris and I'm hoping to do a reading for you tonight...?" She trailed off, waiting for Jason to answer. Her voice was cheery but Jason was still hung up on the name. Iris... like the Greek goddess of rainbows and a messenger of the Gods? Because something was tugging at the back of his mind, like the Pit often did and Jason didn't believe in coincidences.

"Jason." He responded, watching as Steph relaxed further into her chair, shoulders slumping as she leaned further back, completely at ease. The witch nodded, handing the cards over to Jason. He looked at her confused for a second before he started to shuffle. Iris smiled, "It's better for you to shuffle, so the cards can have a better sense of your character."

Jason raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. She continued, "I'm going to have you pull three cards first, since this is a general reading and then we can go from there, okay?"

He nodded, feeling how worn the corners of the cards were in his hands and how soft the glossy backing was, almost like the backing of a well loved paperback. He furrowed his brow, methodically sliding them around in his hands, trying to keep them from getting caught on each other before he finally decided that was enough. Three cards. He placed the deck on the edge of the table with great care and with a splayed palm he spread them out to the best of his ability. He sat back, suddenly noticing how sweaty his palms were before he took a deep breath, readying himself. The fact that a stupid throw away magic trick was having this much of an effect on him was ridiculous.

He eyeballed it, before tugging free a card in what he thought was the middle of the pile. He pulled it in front of Iris before he took two from each of the ends of the pile. He waited, licking his lips in anticipation when his mouth was suddenly dry, watching as she turned over his cards.

She painstakingly overturned the first card that he had pulled and he nearly choked back a laugh which turned into a choke when Steph elbowed him harshly in the ribs, glaring. There, looking tauntingly back up at him, was a skeleton draped in a black cloak upon a horse, holding a scythe with the neat little letters spelling out Death underneath the scene.

And oh god, was that fucking funny.

Iris seemed a little confused, as she tapped one purple talon against the card, before speaking, "Don't freak out about that card. Everyone always freaks out over him."

She flipped over the next two cards; One of a man looking over a cliff, a stick in hand with two others driven in the ground next to him. It read Three of Wands and one showing three swords piercing a bleeding heart. From Jason’s position the last one was upside down. Three seemed to be a big number for him tonight.

Jason remembered very suddenly three motifs in literature, when he was in high school slaving endlessly over research papers and book analyses, more often then not it was a Holy number. But it is the repetition of the cycle: birth, life, death. Of the passage of time, past; present; future. Jason again had to keep himself from snorting.

Omne trium perfectum.

Iris leaned over the cards, humming to herself as she flattened them, eyes glowing faintly under the scrutiny of the lights around her parlor. Steph looked curiously at her, “So? What does it mean?”

“Well,” She started, talon back to rapping gently against the glossy front of Death, drawing Jason’s attention, “Death is the first card you pulled. It means that you’re going to undergo change— growth if you will, but it’s specifically change followed by a period of renewal to yourself and your strength. That change leads to closure, an end to a chapter of your life.”

Jason was smirking now and he could see some of the humor return to Steph’s face at the acknowledgement. It was more than a little on the nose. He watched as Iris moved to the next two cards, flipping the wand cards around in her hand as she was thinking, "Three of wands points to foresight and a journey..." She trailed off, glancing at his other two cards, biting her lip in concentration and Jason felt his eyebrows raise further up to his hairline, "But in the context of your other two cards I think it's going to be more of a spiritual journey instead of a physical one. It also is going to lead to monumental growth. Whatever you decide, you'll have an immense amount of confidence in your plan."

"And the three of swords reversed also points to growth and recovery. You recently went through a rough time? Maybe some animosity between those in your family?"

Jason nodded. He wasn't going to offer up any more information that absolutely vital and he may have had one particularly bad fight with Dick in his little kitchenette the week before. It was interesting that the cards did seem to represent past, present, and future as he had originally suspected. He frowned, though. Death wasn't in his past. Based on the way the cards were set up, Death was his future. It was the first card he had pulled, with the three of wands being in the middle, as his present, while the three of swords being his past.

"It points to reconciliation, even though it was on the past, I think you're journey currently is learning to forgive your family--" God, Jason was trying so hard not to laugh. He heard Steph snicker beside him. "All signs point to reconciliation on both sides. Once that happens you can finally put to rest this chapter in your life and start your renewal as Death wants."

She tapped the three of wands again, "And you're on that journey, though I can't say when you'll achieve the final outcome."

Jason nodded, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he absolutely was not going to process his feelings about this reading until he was home, safe and sound, alone in his apartment. His head was already swimming. Sure, he had reconciled with Steph, but he hadn't really done anything to wrong her in the first place. He had tried to kill her ex a couple of times while they were together, but she seemed to have forgiven him. And they just clicked. Shared background and feelings of being the failed Robins. And Alfred. Alfred hadn't been the one to excommunicate him. He knew the butler could never do that. He saw Jason as a man who had simply lost his way in the whirlwind of his life, but he had never once doubted Jason's character...

And nope, Jason was going to back out of that emotionally charged alleyway before it overtook him in public.

"It's interesting," Iris said, breaking him out of his thoughts as she started collecting the cards and shuffling them back into the deck, "You also seem to have a very strong connection with the color green. You have a lot of rebirth symbols surrounding yourself, Jason."

"His birth cards are the chariot and the tower." Steph admitted, a cheeky grin on her face. Birth cards? Jason shot her a bewildered look before she rolled her eyes, "You add up the date of your birthday and you get pair of twelve sets of tarot cards. I did it before we came."

"Why?"

She shrugged, unbothered by his harsh tone, "I was curious."

"The chariot and the tower are a powerful combination. You'll be able to overcome anything thrown at you in your life. Though, you'll be in a constant state of change because of the Tower. Ripping yourself down to the foundation again and again to rebuild a stronger and better foundation for you to stand on while the Chariot brings stabilizing energy and the will for you to be able to complete your tasks, overcoming every obstacle every inconvenience on its way to deliver you to fate. It's often the card of warriors. They're painful cards, but eventually pain will stop being the driving force behind your transformation. You'll be the driving force behind the change you inflict both on yourself and the world."

Jason titled his head with a look of disbelief painted on his features, a small uncertain frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even if he did believe in this particular brand of magic, which he hadn't fully decided on at that exact moment, this wasn't exactly a positive reading. It wasn't like he was a stranger to any pain, his entire life had been seeped in the worst kinds of emotional and physical trauma most people could conjure up themselves. But what she had just said rang very similarly to what Ducra had said to him. Something about how glorious it will be when his heart shined brighter than his fury.*

And, something something, he needed to recover. Which he did it's just kind of hard working through his complex emotions featuring his adoptive father, all of his siblings, the clown that killed him, his own self worth and his ethics when there was an almost world ending event biweekly. And he did think he was being significantly more successful in terms of his recovery. He had at least started paying attention to shit that triggered him and was trying to take care of himself more than he ever had in his entire life. And that was something, right?

He still had a shattered mirror in his bathroom that held all the memories of him hunched over his basin, blood sometimes dried but always sticky on his hands as he tried to make sense of who he was. He was a mosaic of every person he had ever come in contact with, of a dead kid, a murdered robin, a current outlaw, of his father, all of his mentors and all of his siblings. He was full of jagged edges and unholy rage, but it was hard not to get lost in all the different patterns and colors he possessed. His breathing would be ragged and his eyes unfocused, he was the combination sum of everything that happened to him. Both good and bad and sometimes the bad one out the night, but more frequently it was the good. He was Jason. In ever manner that he acted. He was a vigilante. A fighter. A protector. He protected the people of Crime Alley to the best of his ability, he was a protector of children, of sex workers, of anyone who needed it. And he was trying to be better. For himself and the people he was so admit on protecting.

"Jay?"

He hummed a response, pulled from his thoughts at Steph's voice. She gave him a questioning look and he was very suddenly hit with the crisp cool air of the night. They were outside, walking through the Alley in the direction of her apartment. His hands were jammed in his pockets, feeling the sharp edge of something as he rubbed his thumb along the edge. He furrowed his eyebrows, "You good? You seem pretty spaced out."

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't really expect for that to go the way it did," He offered, still tracing the thing in his pocket, "I don't really know why it effected me this much."

She tugged her jacket closer around herself, nodding, "Yeah. The first time I went all of my cards seemed to be linked back to my, uh, death. Do you want to talk about it? I know I didn't actually die, but it might help?"

Jason flinched at her mention of her death and the casual admission that she didn't actually die. As if that made it any less traumatic. Immediately he shook head, "No. No, I'll be okay I think. It was largely positive. It's just..."

He felt his entire face screw up as he tried to think of what he was trying to express, he finally settled on, "Weird."

Steph nodded, both falling into a comfortable silence. He palmed the card, slipping it out of his pocket to look at it and was torn between an exasperated sigh and a smirk of amusement. Death seemed to be rather attached to him.

#this has nothing to do with anything #i just wanted to have some practice writing steph #did my wattpad writer come out when describing steph's outfit? maybe #jason todd #red hood #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #my writing #stephanie brown #spoiler #*jason absolutely remembers the exact quote that Ducra said to him he's just in a weird place with his emotions #i'm not super happy with this one :/#just because i don't think i have enough developed dialogue between steph and jay #ill take a crack at steph again soon #becuase i love her as a character i just have to flesh her out a bit more #i'm sorry! i'm trying

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caffeinatedtimdrake · 5 years

Text

Eye See You

A/N: about 2.5k of Jason Todd/Red Hood x female!reader FLUFF in which Red Hood is soft for a school teacher, walks her home like the gentleman we all know he is, and opens up like the blossoming flower we also know he is.

The rain falls steadily. The gentle patter against the pavement serves as soothing company on her walk home. Though clouded, dull sapphire hangs above her head. She’s always enjoyed the rain. When a gentle drizzle cleansed the world, she felt most at peace. There was a flash of worn leather and red, followed by a loud splash. “Is there room for two underneath that umbrella?” Two months ago, she would have shrieked and swung the umbrella in a panic before sprinting away. Now, however, she answers the inquiry with a shy smile and sidelong glance, shrugging. She’d been wondering when he’d appear out of thin air to join her walk home. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.” “Gladly.” Jason’s voice is low and gravelly, but his grip is gentle as he takes the umbrella from her hands and holds it above them both. “I guess even people who wear masks and fight bad guys need cover from the rain.” “You know it, doll. Plus, I’ve gotten too much gutter water in my eyes. I try to avoid that when possible.” “Tough guy can’t handle a little dirty water?” “No, I’m a princess. You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” He chortles. “Prettiest one I’ve ever seen.” She laughs. His heart aches. “Says you.” He mutters. “Hm?” “Oh. Nothing. Ah-choo. I sneezed.” She scoffs. “Bless you. Although…if you only wear that flimsy jacket when you’re out saving the city and it’s this chilly, you’re bound to get a cold.” “Thanks, mom.” She rolls her eyes. They’re the prettiest color he’s ever seen, vividly deep and movingly soulful. Jason hates feeling lost, especially after everything that’s happened, but he knows he’d get lost in those eyes any time. “Listen, Red Hood. I know you’re some big shot superhero – or, vigilante, whatever – but while you’re out here looking out for everyone else, someone’s gotta look out for you.” His face hurts a little, and so does his heart. “You can’t see it, but trust me, I’m smiling fondly beneath this mask.” She looks up at him, grinning playfully as a hint of sorrow crosses her soft features. “I trust you.” She supposes she must thank those wannabe-thugs for the friendship she now has with Red Hood. If they hadn’t tried to corner her in an alleyway and demand money, among other things, she would have continued life as school teacher in the roughest part of the city peacefully. But it must have been her lucky day because Red Hood simply dropped down from the rooftop and took them all out. Now, she continues life even more peacefully than before because she has undeniably earned a soft spot in Red Hood’s heart. If he’s looking out for her safety, the least she can do is look out for his health by scolding him to get a proper jacket. “Have you had a quiet night so far?” “As quiet as Gotham can get.” “Well, I hope you continue to have a Gotham-quiet night so you can go home and rest. And recharge to kick more butt. Also, to get a proper coat.” His laughter is throaty and wholesome. Jason tilts his head back, thoroughly amused. “Thanks, cupcake. You should get some rest, too. Recharge for another day of educating Gotham’s youth.” She grows warm as they reach her apartment building. The streets are vacant, and the eerie emptiness might bother her if she wasn’t with him. The pair halts in front of the revolving door beneath the awning and she closes the umbrella. “Thank you for walking me home, Red.” She looks up at him earnestly, timid but genuine. “It’s always a pleasure, Y/N.” She moves to duck inside, but hesitates, rooted to the spot. Here goes nothing. She clears her throat, blushing. “If you’re not busy, and if you want to, you could…come up with me.” Jason Todd, the infamous Red Hood, freezes; but she can’t see his eyes get wider than the moon. “No pressure though. Maybe that’s conflict of interest, going into civilian homes without a reason to protect? And maybe you’re just…not interested. Which is totally okay too! I just…thought I’d offer a warm caffeinated beverage since you have a long night ahead of you and things are kind of calm now and I don’t really know how else to say thank you for looking out for me.” She looks so vulnerable, even more so than the day they met. Her eyes are wide but her gaze flits around nervously as she shuffles from foot to foot. He finds it very hard to deny her. He can’t quite explain why he finds himself so enraptured with you. Maybe it’s the warm innocence she radiates, or the way she treats everyone with compassion, or how not even the dreariest of days can dampen her brightness. He comes from darkness and despair, so maybe it’s only natural that he’s attracted to her light. In a way, he envies her students. Yes, they get to spend the whole day with her, but that’s not what nags at the pit of his stomach – it’s the haunting thought that his life might have turned out much differently if someone like her had been involved. Those echoes of his anguished past never last for long though because when he reminds himself of the big picture – that she is making a positive difference in the lives of so many kids like him – Jason can’t help but like her even more. So, before he even knows what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Yeah. I’d like that, Y/N.” The whole way up, she prays her apartment isn’t too much of a disaster. She had been so anxious to spend just a few extra moments with him that she hadn’t considered the potential disarray. Oh, well. No regrets. She tells her herself that he’s probably seen worse. Jason notifies Dick that he’s taking a little break. Dick responds by saying that crime doesn’t take a break, laughing at his own bad joke, and then telling his bat brother to enjoy. “It’s cute.” He muses. “Very cozy. Very you.” He walks around, looking at framed photos and music albums and DVD cases while she heats some hot water. When she woke up this morning, she certainly didn’t believe that Red Hood would later be in her apartment, laughing at her boy band albums. “Don’t tell me that you don’t sing aloud to One Direction when they come on the radio. Because then I will know that you are a liar. A distasteful one, at that.” “Okay, okay, I admit it. Their first album…it really spoke to my teenage self.” She adds that to the tiny cache of information she knows about Red Hood. She doesn’t know how old he is, but with his cheesy pop culture references, she knows he can’t be much older or younger than she is. She knows he likes ice cream more than popsicles and that he’s allergic to pollen. She knows he, at the very least, has a little brother. She knows he fights to kill bad guys, but he doesn’t always do it, especially not when terrified school teachers are watching and begging him with their eyes not to murder. She knows that beneath tough, jagged layers of bitter emotion and a blood red mask, he is good. She wishes she knew his eyes. She knows better than to press him for personal information. Though it is in her nature to get to know people and their stories, she holds back and appreciates each tiny piece of himself that he gives out. She can’t help but feel jealous, though. He can look at her eyes whenever she wants, but she’s left guessing the color of his irises and imagining the length of his lashes. As cheesy as it seems, she believes the eyes are the window to the soul. She knows that if allowed the chance to gaze into his eyes, if only for a heartbeat, she could know him more intimately than words would ever allow. “What are you daydreaming about? Me? Or some other hunk?” Jason leans against the counter, casually. She laughs, shaking her head. “Just lost in thought. Sugar?” “Yes please, sweet thing.” He nearly purrs, relishing the rosy hue that creeps up the back of her neck and across her face. She glances at him shyly out of the corner of her eye. “Actually, I was wondering something. About you.” She admits quietly. His heart thumps loudly. She’s never directly asked about his personal life before. It’s easier to keep her at arm’s length when she barely knows him, but Jason finds the distance increasingly difficult to endure. The devil on his shoulder hates how thoughtful and polite she is because sometimes Jason really just wishes she would demand he rip off the mask and kiss her senseless. His voice comes out raspier than intended. “What’s on your mind?” She wrinkles her nose, unhappy with herself for prying. “Well…I was just curious...about the color of your eyes.” The answer startles him so much, he chokes on his own spit. It’s a bit difficult to cough with the mask on and she doesn’t know if it would be appropriate to pat his back, so she just stares at him, disconcerted. “You…okay?” She asks nervously. He nods. “Yes. Just, um, surprised.” Suddenly she looks horrified and he grows concerned. “What’s wrong, darling? Are you alright?” He approaches her space, frowning deeply underneath the mask. “I just had an awful realization.” She groans, hiding her face in her hands. Panic rising, he gently places his hands over her own, prying them loose. “What is it, Y/N?” Of all things, she pouts. “How are you supposed to drink your coffee comfortably, in my home, with the mask on?” He freezes for the second time today because of her. “I can totally, like, face the other way. So you can drink in peace without worrying about giving away your identity. Or you could blindfold me, I guess. But I promise that I wouldn’t open my eyes if you just let me squeeze them shut. Crap, I really didn’t think this through, I just wanted to talk to you more so badly that I didn’t even consider – “ “Y/N.” Jason says her name calmly, ignoring the devil on his shoulder at her mention of a blindfold. She shuts her mouth instantly, bashful. “Calm down, sweetheart. You definitely don’t need to stress about my mask and my coffee.” He reaches out to smooth out her furrowed brow. She huffs and then she melts when he tenderly cups her cheek. She doesn’t know his eyes, but if his gentle touch is any indication, she thinks he must look at her as warmly as she looks at him. “Sorry,” She mumbles, embarrassed at how she’s gotten all panicky and flustered around him twice today. Normally she saves Red Hood-induced spazzing for when she’s alone. “Don’t – don’t apologize, Y/N.” Jason tells her softly. She sighs into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. “I feel bad that I can’t help but wonder about you. The color of your eyes. The way you smile. If you sing in the shower. The Red Hood beneath the hood. But it’s not like you owe me that. And you, as Red Hood, are so good to me and to this city that it shouldn’t even really matter how pretty your smile must be. Everything you do and stand for is so beautiful, on its own.” She continues to ramble, eyes squeezed shut in distress. “I want to know you, but I do know you! I do know you and I’m just greedy because I only get, like, half an hour with you at a time. But that’s more than most people get! And usually when people get time with you, it’s because you’re kicking their butts. So I should just shut up and be grateful. Don’t get me wrong though, I am grateful. I am so grateful for you.” When she opens her eyes, she’s met with an ocean of shimmering sapphire, flecked with emerald and gold and so much sorrow she thinks she might drown. It makes her feel a little woozy so when her knees buckle, Jason is quick to wrap his arms securely around her waist. “Easy there, tiger. I know I’m handsome, but not that handsome.” He chuckles. He easily lifts her onto the counter, and she finds herself at eye level with Red Hood – without his hood. She has to blink a few times for her vision to clear. When it does, she thinks she might collapse all over again. His olive skin glows in the dingy lighting. Freckles are littered lightly across his cheeks and nose, softening the sharp angles of his face that, not too long ago, must have been boyish and forgiving. His brows are dark and strong, raven locks tousled and flopping over onto his forehead endearingly, giving way to a streak of white. His lips, rosy and smooth, are curled into a bitter half-smile. It’s his eyes that really get her, tearing into her soul, all dark and beautiful and blue. There’s a scar across one of his cheeks, curved into the shape of a J, and it’s instinctual when she places her palm against it, as if being so gentle could heal every one of his scars. She doesn’t know how much time passes, but he seems unbothered because he only gazes back at her through sad sapphire. Silence has wrapped around them comfortably in the same way that his arms wind around her waist and her legs lock behind his back. Eternity might have passed before she finds the words to speak, but it was their eternity, suspended in moments of beauty and vulnerability. She swallows hard. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen so even if you work some superhero magic on me and erase my memory, I’ll be sad but I’ll know in my soul that I laid eyes on the most breathtaking creature to walk this earth and it will be okay.” He smiles now, completely, and she nearly wheezes. He’s so stunning it makes it hard for her to breathe. “I’m flattered.” No longer hindered by the mask, his voice is even more like velvet and melted chocolate and she thinks she really might die. “You – you didn’t have to…do that.” She breathes, guilt nagging at her stomach. He shakes his head, looking down. “I wanted to, Y/N.” He hated being vulnerable, but she looks at him like he brought her the moon and somehow that utter adoration made him feel safe. She sighs very deeply, slumping her shoulders. “And my name…it’s Jason.” “Jason,” She says, rolling his name off her tongue. “That’s me. In the flesh.” She blushes, but he registers a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Her voice drops to a purr, dripping with affection and maybe a little bit of seduction. “Jason.” It makes sense that the only thing he can really do in response is kiss her senseless.

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rctribvtn · 4 years

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Have you ever noticed that ( JASON TODD ) from the ( DC UNIVERSE ) looks a lot like ( CURRAN WALTERS )? But ( HE ) also go/goes by ( RED HOOD ). Having the ability to/of ( EXPERT MARKSMAN/TACTICIAN, SKILLED MARTIAL ARTIST & HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT, ENHANCED WEAPONS TECH, AND ENHANCED STRENGTH / SPEED / DURABILITY DUE TO LAZARUS PIT EXPOSURE. ) sure makes them a force to be reckoned with. Rumour has it they are ( 21 ) and is working as ( MORALLY GREY VIGILANTE ).

𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌.

willis and catherine todd didn’t have the perfect marriage. in fact, it was barely a happy one. willis would later serve time in prison, a career criminal by day and a shitty husband by night, and when his time was up ? he’d leave his family behind. their only child, jason, was forced to raise himself as his mother turned to drugs. petty crime was how he kept a roof over their heads, and food in their bellies. there was no one to look after him so he looked after himself. after his mother died of an accidental overdose, he avoided the eyes of the system and continued a life of petty crime, of ripping parts off cars to sell for cash, and did so until he was caught trying to jack the tires off the bat-mobile. he’d managed to get one taken off but got caught going in for the other three.

a brief stint in boarding school, which failed epically, led to him eventually being brought on as the new robin. batman figured channelling his anger into catching criminals might prevent him from becoming one. jason, however, was a problem. he didn’t listen, was incredibly impulsive, and was more violent than he needed to be. he was frequently breaking batman’s cardinal rules, even going so far as to presumably murdering someone. this was the #1 rule. bad jason. all the same, bruce kept trying to beat positive ideologies into him. he tried to teach him right from wrong, allow him to see things from a less grey perspective, but growing up on the streets had already twisted his sense of right and wrong. it was too late.

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊.

from there, most of what happens to jason in titans is canon for him. he’s robin, albeit an impulsive one, and ends up joining up with dick and the titans to get some space. shortly after where the show ends in season two, when jason’s peaced out to go out on his own, he finds out that his biological mother wasn’t the woman who gave birth to him. after tracking her down, he finds out that she was being blackmailed by the joker to lure him into a trap. the who’s and why’s aren’t important but in the end, she turns him over to the joker where he’s beaten bloody and left to die with a bomb counting down. batman doesn’t make it in time and he dies. or does he?

turns out, he wasn’t dead. for argument’s sake, given that bruce isn’t a dumbie, i’ll say maybe joker dosed him with a paralytic or something. it stopped his heart long enough to pass for him being dead. so when he claws his way out of the grave shortly after, injured beyond comprehension with no sense of himself, it’s simply sheer luck that sees someone find him. a doctor named august takes him in and nurses him back to health as best he can. yet over the months that his body recovers, his mind never does. he has no recollection of who he is, or where he belongs, so when a petty criminal recognizes him and tips off talia al-ghul, he sees no reason to be distrustful of her when she comes for him. she uses the lazarus pit to heal his body and his memory, twisting his beliefs and convincing him that bruce didn’t properly avenge his death. that his death meant nothing. that he was nothing.

𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙?

after determining that batman showed no remorse for sparing the joker’s life, jason decided to take matters into his own hands. he attacked the joker, beating him in a similar fashion to how he’d been beaten, and took the red hood from him. he took on the mantle for himself, inserting himself into gotham’s criminal underground. as the red hood, he assumes control over several gangs in gotham and starts a one-man war against the black mask. overall, his goal is to cleanse the city of its corruption, such as drug dealing and gang violence. he also aims to kill the joker but hey, who doesn’t.

presently, jason’s moving on up in the world to new york. he still has his roots in gotham, keeping an eye on the criminal populace and busting in when need be, but with the people he used to know and care about in the city ... he’s on high alert, slinking in the shadows. watching. waiting. he intends on making his presence known at some point, wants to know why the people that claimed to care about him did nothing to avenge his death, but there’s something holding him back. maybe he’s afraid of the truth, or maybe he’s afraid of feeling something other than the rage that’s been poisoning him

tldr: jason’s a loud-mouth, impulsive, kind of a dick, former vigilante ( robin ) turned anti-hero ( red hood ). he died roughly two years ago and is back now, but the only people that likely know are august and talia.

𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘.

there’s a lot of abilities listed on the wiki, but i’ll give you a few as examples. the rest can be found here if you’re curious!

lazarus-enhanced capabilities: he no longer ages, or if he does it’s at a degraded rate, and he regenerates from injuries at a fast rate. his strength, speed, stamina, agility, reflexes, metabolism, etc, have also been enhanced.

peak human conditioning: between talia and bruce, he’s had extreme physical training and meditation techniques drilled into his head. he’s also proficient in martial arts and is a master marksman.

he’s multilingual, a skilled swordsman, expert acrobat, blah, blah, blah. basically the batfam are crazy talented and geniuses.

with his red hood costume, i’m going with version 3 babey. the brown biker jacket, form fitting black costume underneath with the red bat signal on the chest. everything’s breathable and probably made of something similar to kevlar even if he is almost impossible to kill at this point. he still wears the red helmet, as he’s been keeping his return a semi-secret from the important people in his life. his weapons of choice vary but are normally jericho 941′s, shurikens, a flame dagger. depends on how spicy he’s feeling that day.

#thephoenixintro #child neglect tw #guns tw #character death tw #manipulation tw #amnesia tw

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msephy · 5 years

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Upbringing chap 12/13

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

The climb to Nanda Parbat was even harder than the one to Ra’s al Ghul’s stronghold and Jason could only feel relief at them being so close. Was it a coincidence or had Ra’s been looking for the place? Coincidences were rare, where he was concerned.

Only a small group accompanied them: five bodyguards and, of course, Bruce. Jason counted on Talia to insure Damian would get back to Gotham or, at least away from the League. The brat himself might be able to elude her if she tried to bring him anywhere else.

Besides, he was wearing his gear from the Cave. Knowing Bruce, several pieces had to be bugged. They’d find him alright – if they managed to get away from Ra’s.

It wouldn’t be long, now.

They reached the top of the crater where the temple laid. It was an ancient construction, looking both immovable and strangely out of place in this landscape of even older mountains. A single monk in orange robes was walking in the green gardens which surrounded the temple and made it even more unseemly in the blinding whiteness.

“The temple of Rama Kushna,” Ra’s breathed out. “I’ve looked for it for so long.”

So even he could still be impressed from time to time. Though Jason guessed he was more interested in his objective than in the place itself. Yet it had its own power, and so did the order within.

Jason let himself drop to the edge of the monkey bridge which connected the temple to the outside world. Good defense, Jason though. Even for him it would be hard to reach it from the other way, the climb being much harder from that side.

He started on the bridge before Ra’s could, unwilling to let him be the first to contact the monks. Jason might be disrespectful most of the time, but he didn’t think himself to be above those people. Ra’s thought himself above everyone.

The others followed, making the bridge swing gently from one side to the other. By the time Jason had reached the end, several monks had gathered, anxious and surprised.

“Welcome to the temple of Rama Kushna, traveler,” one of the said.

Jason bowed politely. “My apologies for interrupting your peace. The man who follows me asked for a guide to the fountain of life and so I brought him here.”

“I’m Ra’s al Ghul,” Ra’s said in an authoritarian tone. The jerk. “Where is the fountain?”

“It’s not hidden,” the monk answered in a moderate tone. “It’s right beyond the temple, in the garden. But you should know… Only the pure of heart can enjoy its blessing. It brings death to those whose spirit is not pure.”

Jason tensed, worried about Ra’s reaction. He’d known, of course, but thought mentioning it to him would be a bad idea.

To his surprise, Ra’s scoffed, sounding rather amused. “Not being straight with me, Shadow of the shadow? Do not worry, I don’t fear the fountain’s judgment. Do you know, I’ve always believed it must be the prototype of the Lazarus pits I myself use.”

“Yeah well, sorry but that’s not exactly good news,” Jason commented.

Ra’s ignored him to follow the monks’ instructions. Bruce joined Jason, looking at him intensely through his white lenses.

“If you expect Ra’s to die…”

“I expect Ra’s to be Ra’s,” Jason interrupted. “Either he’ll die, or he won’t. Either way it will be his choice. You can’t force right decisions out of people, Bruce. You know that.”

But didn’t he still wish to. Yet Bruce didn’t protest further, following Ra’s with a frown. Jason rolled his eyes. Worst-case scenario? Ra’s was hurt without dying and demanded Jason’s body. As far as he was concerned, Ra’s dying was the best scenario.

Still, he shadowed them, as did the leaguers.

The fountain was of the purest water, far from the toxin green of the Lazarus pits. Jason swallowed. He’d seen it before, once, yet it was still breathtaking. Not that it looked like much: just a naturally formed rock sprouting water, which was gathered in a round basin dug into the stony ground.

Ra’s removed his tunic while one of his guards unlaced his shoes, leaving him only in his pants. His state was even more visible now: his ribs showing under a fragile, gray skin.

Yet Bruce stepped forward. “Ra’s. You can’t possibly think to go inside. If what the monk said is true…”

The Demon’s Head raised a hand.

“Detective. Do not presume.”

Jason snorted, which removed some of their impact from Ra’s words. Yet, it sufficed. Bruce stepped aside, fists clenched. There would be a backslash if Ra’s did die, Jason suddenly knew. Bruce would blame himself. Didn’t he always?

Well, fuck him. People did have the right to make bad choices. You couldn’t control everybody, or else, you’d be – Brainiac, or something.

Ra’s stepped inside the fountain, sitting down under the gentle stream. He didn’t scream, didn’t start burning or melting. Was he really pure? Jason hadn’t dared to test the fountain, the one time he’d come.

He had come for it specifically, of course, like most people who reached the place. He’d found its coordinate in the Batcomputer and had thought – why not? Maybe if would clean him from the Lazarus pit’s stain, or maybe it would kill him, putting things back how they should have been.

But in the end, he had not dared. Yet here Ra’s was, sitting fearlessly in the inoffensive water.

Inoffensive, but healing. Already Ra’s skin was looking better, his flesh and muscle filling in, youth coming back to his face. He smiled, noticing their surprise.

“Do not confuse purity and morality, Detective,” he told Bruce without heat. “The values you think so highly of are very new to this world. As positive as you might think them, such a stream wouldn’t judge them more worthy than any other.”

“You kill people,” Bruce answered, tense. “Nothing can find that pure. You seek unbalance, in others, by killing them, and in yourself, by staying alive for so long.”

“Maybe it is so, from your point of view. Yet my intention is indeed to cleanse this world.”

Ra’s closed his eyes, breathing in as the fountain kept healing him, a clear dismissal. Jason moved to Bruce’s side, taking his arm to thug him away. “We should leave.”

“The monks…”

“Can defend themselves. They’re blessed by Rama Kushna, you know.”

Jason wasn’t even kidding, and it must have been apparent in his tone because Bruce didn’t resist further. They politely saluted the monks, who escorted them back to the entrance. Maybe Jason would go back, in his world. Not right away but – later. When he would have found his center at last.

They’d left the League’s stronghold at dawn and, even though the return trip was long, they managed to reach the Batplane right before dawn. To their relief, Damian and Talia were waiting for them there.

“Father!” Damian stopped just short from Bruce, clearly unwilling to behave like a child. To Jason’s surprise, Bruce ended the movement by hugging the kid. Damian squealed his protests without pushing him away.

Talia inclined her head at Jason. “My father?”

“Healed and well. We left before him but I don’t expect him to meet any surprises on his way back.”

She nodded, looking relieved, then she smiled. “Thank you, Shadow of my shadow.”

“Isn’t it Bruce who’s Damian’s dad?” Jason asked, just because, fuck, what was it with her coming into him?

As soon as he said the words, Talia’s face emptied of any expression and, from the corner of his eyes, Jason could see Bruce straightening up guiltily. Riiiight.

“Anyway, we have to go,” Jason decided. “Thank you for your help, Talia.”

“It should be I thanking you, Jason from another world. I trust the one from this one will soon return?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re looking into it.”

Bruce nodded at Talia awkwardly, then nudged Damian into the Batplane. The kid didn’t protest: the day had been a long one. They left without further discussion then put on the autopilot so they could take turns sleeping.

Even with a few hours of eyes-closing, Jason still felt wasted when they finally landed back in Gotham. He would be relieved to slip into his bed and have a real, good rest, knowing the local Batfamily was safely home.

He opened the Batplane’s door, hoping to head upstairs to do just that – and stopped dead as Jason Wayne looked up to him. He swallowed, looking around, not knowing if he wanted him to be alone or if he hoped he was.

But no: here he was, looking up at him from afar. Bruce. His Bruce.

###

Earth 53 – Jason Wayne

The first thing Jason felt when the Batplan’s door opened was relief: Bruce was there, mostly unarmed despite a few cuts he’d definitely want to check, and so was Damian, who jumped down without wasting time.

Then Jason took the time to properly look at his double and… yeah. Doppelganger might be the right word. He was wearing his own gear, the same type he’d found in the flat he’d woken up in the other Earth: reinforced pants, combat boots, leather jacket which likely was reinforced too, and way too many weapons for someone who moved like he was one.

He looked as bad as Jason had feared. Yet, from what Kal and Dick had told him, he hadn’t hesitated to follow Bruce when they’d found out Damian’s life was in danger so maybe he should take appearances for what they were.

Besides, it’s not like he didn’t understand where he came from.

It was also hard not to notice how this other Jason had tensed all over when he’d seen the Bruce

“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, going forward, hand raised, to cut the tension. “I’m the local Jason. Thank you for bringing back my brother and nephew in one piece.”

The other Jason – this was going to become tedious soon, thinking about him that way, he should think about him as Todd instead – looked taken aback, but recovered quickly and shook his hand almost without trying to crush it.

“My pleasure,” Todd said, his tone clearly ironic, yet… it was probably true.

Jesus. This really was like talking to a younger self. How weird.

Jason smiled his most Luthorian smile, and was rewarded by a frown. Bruce – his Bruce – damnit – rolled his eyes.

“I know, I know,” Jason said. “No need to antagonize our host. I can’t help myself.”

Forgetting his doppelganger for a moment, he went and hugged Damian, then pulled Bruce into the hug with them, because he could. Feeling their presence physically was a relief. They were there. They were fine.

Then Bruce winced. “Alright,” Jason said. “Damian, to the shower. Make sure you aren’t hurt anywhere and if you aren’t careful enough, I’ll check you myself. Bruce, to the med bay.”

Damian obeyed without protesting too much, which was unusual, but then, considering the circumstances, Jason was not surprised. Todd raised his eyebrows at Bruce, who grimaced back, removing his cowl.

“I wouldn’t have to behave like you mother if you behaved more responsibly by yourself,” Jason commented.

“Please, don’t,” Bruce grumbled.

The other Bruce – yeah, he wasn’t going to call him Wayne, that would be just too weird – almost smiled.

“If it makes you feel better, he did the same with me, and I’m ten years older than him.”

Jason’s brother didn’t seem to know what to do about that comment. “I’m not sure if I should be reassured, or worried that he’s going to do that my whole life.”

“That’s what older brothers are for,” Jason sing-songed, nudging Bruce into removing the top part of his armor.

Cuts everywhere. That’s what he’d though. He started cleaning them.

“Todd, can I ask you to go tell Dick you’re all back and fine? He’s hard to wake up and might just mumble something but he’ll remember in the morning.”

“Sure.”

The tone didn’t match the answer. Was he hurt, too? The other Bruce was checking on him from afar but Todd’s movements only broadcasted discomfort, which could be largely attributed to his adoptive father’s presence. Or was it because of Jason himself?

Nevertheless, Todd removed his guns and knives then the most obvious parts of his armor before heading back upstairs. The other Bruce raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment. Todd didn’t look in his direction, which wasn’t quite the same as ignoring him successfully.

“Bruce, a hand?” Jason called, mostly to distract him.

This brother grunted at having two people stitching him back up at the same time, uncomfortable himself with this unknown person being so close, but that’s what he got for getting himself cut like that.

“Ra’s?” Jason asked while working.

“Alive and well.”

“Mh. Talia?”

“Helped us,” Bruce confirmed, to Jason’s relief. “She says hi.”

“She doesn’t.” She never did.

“She doesn’t need to.” No, indeed.

Jason finished working alongside the other Bruce. When he was satisfied, he nodded and let his brother take his own shower, his wounds taped with waterproof bands. Damian had finished in the meantime and headed upstairs to his bed, not without Jason hugging him one last time. Damian didn’t even protest.

Jason sighed when he found himself alone with the other Bruce. “What a family we both have.”

“You take good care of them all.”

“Thank you,” Jason answered. “I’m mostly sad about how Damian has been treated by Ra’s, though. Even Talia… I like her, but even though she protected him this time, I’m never sure she will next time. Oh I don’t think she’d kill him, even to save Ra’s life, but manipulating him into doing what she wants?”

He shrugged. That’s how she’d been raised. She didn’t see the wrongness in it.

The other Bruce sighed. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. Sorry but I can’t believe two of you were stupid enough to sleep with her. I mean. It was obvious she tried to seduce because Ra’s wanted her to.”

“She did?”

“Well, she did like us, I think,” Jason amended. “It wouldn’t have been quite that effective if she didn’t. But still.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Bruce tempered. “I slept with her after having had a vasectomy and she still managed to have Damian.”

“Huh,” Jason said, very intelligently. Maybe he should have enjoyed the sex, then. He sure had wanted to, back then. Though the idea of her showing up with his son… It has been hard enough to have her show up with his nephew.

“Yeah well,” Jason sighed. “I’m still glad to leave that particular worry to Bruce. Besides, I get to enjoy Damian’s charming personality nonetheless.” He grinned.

The old Bruce smiled, likely understanding that he was only joking. They sat there in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, then Jason’s brother finished his showered and joined them, wearing the dark grey fatigues they kept in the Cave for such occasions.

“I’ll head upstairs, have some sleep before starting the day. How’s Dick?”

“Asleep, I think,” Jason said. “I just sent Todd tell him you were all fine, so you can head directly to your bed.”

“Hmpf.”

“If you try to hack into the computer from your room to fill the files today, I will see it.”

��Maybe I should prevent you from going to the office when you didn’t sleep either tonight.”

Jason yawned at the thought. “I might actually stay at home, today. I mean, I’ve been off for a few days, I assume you pretended I was sick?”

“I did. Take your Friday off, too. I’ll give you a hand to catch up on Monday.”

“Noted. See you, then.”

“See you, Jay.”

Jason smiled as he watched his brother go back upstairs. The other Bruce titled his head.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“You sure? Todd might go to bed right away too but if he comes back downstairs…”

“Then I’ll handle him.”

Jason looked at this older Bruce, who wore so many traces of the hard live he’d lived, and who didn’t seem remotely tired despite the lack of sleep.

“You’ll hold the fort?”

“I will. Go to sleep.”

Jason stretched, getting up. He knew he could rely on his little brother, of course, they’d both risk their lives for each other – and they did, numerous times. But he felt responsibility toward him, like he didn’t toward this other, older Bruce.

It was nice.

“Alright. Don’t kill each other, if Todd comes back down.”

“No corpses where Alfred can find them. Got it.”

Jason grinned, then, after a short hesitation, went to this other Bruce and hugged him like he’d hugged his brother. He felt him startle but then Bruce recovered and closed his arms around his adoptive son’s doppelganger. He was a very good hugger.

“G’night,” Jason said, letting him go.

“Good night, Jason.”

###

Note: comments are very welcome :)

#byme #my fics #upbringing #jason wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfamily

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