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mokulule · 1 year ago

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Almanac - Chapter 3

Been a while since I uploaded something. Had some real busy weeks, got sick on top, just all sorts of annoyances. Tbh this has been done for a while but I was contemplating where to split this chapter, and finally decided here, which means it was done.

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) First | Masterlist

Chapter 3 - 12th October, Full Hunter’s Moon

Danny was still angry and frustrated at what the Justice League had made him do, when they could have just asked Phantom, but now at least he was calm, centered.

He breathed in deep, tasting the ectoplasm, not with lungs or tastebuds but with his core. It was quite amazing what a week of intense meditation could do for the Realms. It made him feel a bit guilty that he’d prioritized living over his duties so much, but well, for the foreseeable future he would have plenty of time to play king.

The millennia of stagnation from Pariah’s imprisonment and the time before that of Pariah’s betrayal when the power had gone to his head, had not done great things for the health of the realms. Danny was slowly but steadily changing that.

It was certainly easier to focus on than the fact that he had been summoned as the freaking Ghost King to do something he’d been on the way to deal with, locking him into a deal. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them he’d already been on the way there.

If only they had been a little bit less desperate - a little slower in their setup, all this could have been avoided.

All this power - he breathed in - the Realms’ energy, his to command and shape, infinite, still heavy with Pariah’s madness, but getting better, more colorful, lighter the more he channeled it through his core. All this power and yet, or rather because of that, he was bound by rules.

There were laws governing creatures such as him, such as Clockwork and Pandora: Ancients. Danny chuckled, it was still ridiculous to think of himself as such, he was after all only seven years dead. But as Clockwork said it wasn’t so much a matter of time as it was a matter of power.

Danny had already been powerful. Halfas, because of their still living nature, were naturally inclined to change and gaining power at a rate full ghosts didn’t. Danny having died as a teen while going through puberty (a big change in itself) allowed for exceptional power growth. Coupled with the stressful environment where he fought for his half-life weekly if not daily he had been on the fast track to become an ancient before he hit fifty.

Becoming the de facto Ghost King on his eighteenth birthday stopped that in a way. After a bout of panicked confusion things had stabilized, especially after the coronation made things all official. Danny’s power growth had slowed. It would be quite some time before Danny would be considered an ancient on his own merits now, which was just fine by him. On the flip side becoming Ghost King had made him an ancient by job description.

“Hard at work I see.”

“Clockwork,” Danny greeted, blinking open his eyes. His mentor smiled back at him from an old face that rapidly morphed younger.

“Your Majesty,” Clockwork greeted in return with a flourishing bow in the air.

Danny grimaced. “Really, Clockwork?”

“But that is what you are for the foreseeable future, is it not?”

Danny looked away, biting his lip. Indecision warred inside him, but in the end he couldn’t help but look back up and ask, “will it work?”

Warm amusement shone in the red eyes. “As long as you’re careful, this is not an easy path you’ve decided on.”

Danny scoffed. “How could I not? It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You don’t have any obligation.”

“Clockwork, I took a man from his family, their grief is paying for my assistance. I never-“ his own grief and revulsion rose up in a wave, he felt as if he would drown.

“I didn’t ask for this.” The words were choked out and small.

Clockwork opened his arms and Danny rushed forward into the embrace. He held on desperately, as a sob wrenched through his chest. So much for his calm and meditation. A hand brushed through his hair beneath where the crown floated.

“Having a kind heart is not an easy thing for a king.”

“I wanted them to hurt too though, for putting me in that situation,” Danny admitted quietly.

“Mhmm, a very human emotion.”

Danny flinched, but Clockwork continued running his hand through his hair undeterred.

“And did you let this emotion affect your decision?”

“No, of course not. The world needed saving, that was the most important.”

“Then I don’t see what else you could have done, my King.” Danny sighed, letting it go and letting the steady tick tock of the seconds counted by Clockwork’s chest calm him down.

“In any case there’s no changing the past,” Danny announced with forced cheer as he pushed away.

Clockwork promptly bonked him on the head with his staff and he yelped.

“A hard earned lesson.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Danny grumbled rubbing at his head. It was barely a tap, but it still smarted. “I just can’t help but wonder, you know? They thought I was a city spirit, Clockwork! If I could just change that misconception.”

“How about you focus on the present instead, hmmm? Could there maybe be something you’ve forgotten?”

“Forgotten?” Danny felt a curl of worry in his gut.

“mmhmmm,” Clockwork hummed in agreement.

Danny wracked his brain, but simply couldn’t figure out what he’d forgotten.

“How is that new pet of yours?”

“Pet?! I don’t have- Wait, you don’t mean Jason? He’s a human, not a pet! Really, Clockwork.” Danny turned away, disgruntled at Clockwork, both for calling Jason a pet and also because thinking of Jason brought all that he’d done right back up to the surface.

“And how is the human?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Danny huffed. “I haven’t seen him. But I’m sure he’s fine, he’s a big boy and I gave him free rein of the castle.”

“The semi-sentient castle that responds to your mood?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Fuck.”

Oo o oO

“Jason!” A voice yelled frantically. There were hands on him shaking him. He blinked open his eyes, not quite focused and suddenly there were green eyes and cold gloved hands on his cheeks.

“Oh good, you’re alive.” There was a lot of relief in that voice.

Jason pushed away and the hands let him. He was normally faster to wake than this, but he must have really been woken up at the wrong time. He felt immensely tired. With a yawn he sat himself up. It took him a moment to comprehend the figure floating cross-legged inches off the bedspread; fluffy white hair and dark brows worried over green eyes, dark clothing, white gloves and a floating nebulous cape behind him that was like a rare view of the night sky. It was the burning crown that finally cut through the haze with a shot of fear through his system.

He moved back, away, until his back hit the headboard. His ears hurt in phantom pain and his eyes flickered searching for signs that the king was angry, but he seemed surprisingly solid, human except for the obvious glowing and floating. Also that was not anger, it was worry and pain and… sadness?

“It seems I have more things to apologize for than I realized.”

Jason met his eyes then and at that moment he just looked tired and sad. He reached a hand out to Jason.

“Will you join me for breakfast?”

Jason didn’t take the hand.

Eventually the king grimaced and looked away. “If you’d rather eat alone that’s also fine, but I think I owe you an explanation and an apology.”

“Okay,” Jason finally answered hesitantly.

“Okay?”

“Okay I’ll join you for breakfast.” Still, instead of taking the offered hand, Jason got out on his own on the other side of the bed. He felt a bit wobbly as he got to his feet but he refused to show any more weakness.

This time as they walked and floated respectively along the hallways there were windows. If the view was to be believed it was still night, clear and starry, with a full moon.

The king noticed him looking and floated over to a window looking out. His white starlight hair moved in a non existent wind and something in his expression softened.

“It is always a clear night sky here. The stars move with the seasons in the living realm matching the northern hemisphere. It is a way for me to tell time. It’s easy to loose track here otherwise.”

Jason would believe that, he’d already lost track of time.

“How long have I been here?”

The king hunched his shoulders. “It’s been thirteen days since the equinox. It is lucky you are as liminal as you are or you would be in a worse state.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you are to some degree feeding on the energy that make up the Realms, like a ghost would.” The king sighed and turned around.

“So first apology. I had thought I gave you freedom to explore but I forgot to take into account that the castle is semi-sentient and responds to my mood, and my mood haven’t been the best.” His face darkened and it was like the hallway itself got darker and more cramped. Jason’s heart beat fast in his chest, he couldn’t focus on that, he wanted to step backwards, but he couldn’t let fear control him. He had to focus on something else.

“You forgot your castle is magical?” Jason asked, putting as much disbelief into the tone as he could force through his tight throat.

The oppressiveness disappeared, but now the King just looked tired again. “I have been king for two years, Jason, of which I still spent most of the time haunting my hometown. But still I should have realized, so I’m sorry.”

He seemed truthful, but still-

“Two years?” Jason asked weakly, that was no time at all and it was so little compared to what Jason had imagined, compared to what he suspected anyone imagined.

“Yeah, which leads into the second apology. I am in many ways still getting used to the power that comes with the position. I get a bit hard on mortal senses if I’m not careful with my emotions, your liminality protects you some, but,” the King flew closer and hovered so they were at eye height, Jason stiffened. “I was upset and I hurt you. I should have controlled myself better and now you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Jason, I can taste your fear.”

A spike of fear shot through him and he gave in and stepped back. The king just gazed at him sadly.

“Again, I’m sorry.” He looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, but then his shoulders fell and he turned around. “The kitchen is this way.”

The drapes by the windows somehow seemed disappointed in Jason and when he stood still too long without following his section of the hallway tilted. He quickly stepped forward so he wouldn’t overbalance and followed the king - before the castle decided more drastic measures were needed.

Oo o oO

When Jason had imagined what it meant to join the king for breakfast, he wasn’t sure what he’d imagined. But it certainly wasn’t to be seated at a plain wooden table with benches in a medieval looking kitchen with what looked like a glowing, green skinned lunch lady complete with pink dress, hairnet and gloves.

“Thank you for coming with such short notice,” the king addressed the lunch lady from where he was seated across from Jason.

“Oh, it is no problem sweetie,” she replied in a kind voice as she set down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of each of them. “Growing boys needs lots of protein. And you are still much too skinny.”

Jason watched in fascination as the king rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. It was such a human gesture.

“Yeah I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for me to do more growing.”

“Not all growing is physical, dear. Cookie?”

The sudden subject change was enough to give Jason whiplash. But the king seemed to almost expect it from his fond smile.

“You’re right of course. And yes, if you’re willing, we’d love a cookie each.”

The old lady chuckled and procured two chocolate chip cookies seemingly from nowhere. She put them down on two separate plates.

“Kingship suits you, Phantom, you’ve gotten much more polite.” There was something there, a history Jason could only begin to guess at.

“You can thank Dora’s lessons for that.”

“The dragon princess? I will be sure to remember. But I must go now, you take care boys.”

Dragon princess? It was like Jason had walked into a storybook.

They ate for a while in silence as Jason contemplated the scene he’d just watched. The king, or Phantom, Jason remembered now he’d also called himself that, seemed very young. He looked to be around Jason’s age, but of course that didn’t necessarily mean anything since he was a ghost, but he had said he had only been king for two years.

“So you eat,” Jason said just to get a conversation going.

“I can eat, but I don’t have to. Especially not here in the Realms.”

“And me? You said I absorb some energy here because I’m liminal? What does that mean?”

“It means that your spirit, your soul, whatever you wanna call it, hasn’t entirely forgotten how to be dead. But you’re not a proper ghost, so you can’t entirely feed on just the energy here.”

“So if I had never died?”

“This wouldn’t even be an option. I would never take a fully living here for long, they would be driven mad.”

Jason looked down at his food and continued eating, it was delicious and doubly more so because he was starving.

It wasn’t long before Phantom stood up.

“Thank you for indulging me. I won’t force my company on you any longer. The castle shouldn’t give you as much trouble as before - it is not meant to be a prison for you.” He seemed to say the last more to the room than Jason, there was a stern almost admonishing edge.

He was starting to leave and Jason felt a sudden urgency in his chest. This was the first interaction he’d had with anyone in what was apparently nearly two weeks. The loneliness and inactivity loomed like a beast.

“No, wait!”

Phantom turned halfway back. “Did you need anything else?”

“You can’t just leave me with no purpose! I need stuff to do or I will grow mad,” Jason pleaded.

“I don’t-“ Phantom frowned, he made a resigned movement with his hands. “Well, what do you like to do?”

“I-“ And suddenly that line of questioning felt way too intimate and personal. Jason settled for “I like to fight.”

There was something almost disappointed in the king’s gaze that grated in Jason’s chest. He sighed.

“I should have figured. Fright Knight.” He raised his voice on the last two words and suddenly from one blink to the next, there was a figure in grey gladiator armor and a flaming purple cape kneeling in front of him.

“My liege, what can I do for you?”

“Our guest-” he indicated Jason, “wishes to spend his time mastering the art of combat and is in need of a worthy sparring partner.”

The fright knight rose and studied Jason, only now did Jason realize he could see nothing but darkness and a pair of eyes inside the helmet.

“He doesn’t look like much.”

“He’s still alive, make sure he stays that way,” the king said absolutely deadpan, before turning and flying off, cape flaring behind him.

- Yay! Jason got something to eat finally. And he's for sure not gonna be bored anymore, so that's something XD

Things are looking up, or?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Comments and tags are greatly appreciated. For continuations you can subscribe to the masterpost

#Almanac #dp x dc #dead on main #summonings have consequences

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astronomoney · 7 months ago

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bookends, bestfriends, deadends

Pairing + WC: Jason Grace x reader, 1.6k Warnings: slow burn, once again and as always with my love Jason this is NOT canon-compliant, Jason may be a tiny bit ooc but I tired Summary: In the months between saving Hera and setting sail for New Rome, Jason finds himself making a friend Authors note: ok, y’all, here’s the deal; I took a nap and woke up with an idea, so I started writing; then I realized I needed set up, so I wrote this. Now I have a full fic that doesn’t include my original idea, so I will have to make pt: 2, but at least it’s already almost all the way written

Camp was far too busy this year; even for the off-season, it felt like there were campers everywhere. With all the bustle, it was hard to find a moment of peace. That’s why you’d taken to the woods that day. Following the path you’d walked a million times to a little outcrop of ruins not far from the beach, deep enough to not be disturbed. You’d taken a thick blanket and draped it over a vaguely couch-shaped block of stone ages ago to use as a reading nook. It was calm and peaceful and empty, usually.

This time, when you got close enough to see your little piece of peace, there was already someone there. A blonde boy with a scar on his lip sitting on your faux couch and squinting at the book in his hand. Jason Grace. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew of him and Piper and Leo, all working to get ready for the next great prophecy.

Sneaking up on a former Roman soldier didn’t seem like the best plan, so you’d spoken out. “Guess this place isn’t so secret after all,” geez, what an opener.

Jason looked up with a start and got to his feet before you could say anything else. “Hi, hey, sorry, is this your spot? I wasn’t sure who’s it was, so I stayed to read some. I can go.”

“Oh no, please, you don’t have to,” you were quick to put up your hands and stop him from leaving. You two hadn’t necessarily talked before, but he had always seemed nice at meals and campfires, if not a little awkward. “You were here first. I can leave if you want to be alone.”

Jason paused, it seemed he was actually taking you in now, noticing the book in your hand, Don Quixote as opposed to the copy of War and Peace he held. “I don’t mind company,” he offered you a small nervous smile, it was so pure you had to just stare at it for a second before responding.

“Neither would I,” you finally said, returning the smile. You walked over and sat down tucking your legs under you and leaving plenty of room for Jason to sit on the other side.

He joined and read next to you for what felt like both hours and minutes. Two days later, you had beaten him there, so when he arrived, you smiled and scooted to the left, giving him room again on your right. Over the next month, you crossed paths at the ruins what must have been a dozen times. There was never much conversation; it was more of a silent agreement to enjoy each other’s company, and each day, the distance between your shoulders seemed to get ever so slightly smaller.

After a while, you got comfortable being directly next to him. Your shoulders would brush each time Jason moved to turn the page, and you couldn't help but notice how warm and strong he was. Silent meetings became small discussions about your current read, which turned into talks about other books you’d recommend to each other, which eventually morphed into a solid friendship. You would invite him to eat with your cabin since he had no one else at his. He would update you on the progress of the ship and the quest, you even got to know the other campers involved.

Over the next few months, your lives became completely intertwined. You spent most of your day with each other. You watched him train for the quest, pushing his limits in sparring sessions until he was too exhausted to do much of anything. You would drag him out to your spot in the woods on days when he’d gotten so focused he had to be forced to take a break. You’d even tried to help him get some memories back. He would eat with you, read with you, help you with whatever chores you had around camp, anything to spend more time with together.

He was the first person you turned to when you had something to say. He was the only one who remembered which campfire songs were your favorites or which books you’d reread depending on your mood. You cared about him so deeply, and you weren’t even sure how you’d come to feel so much in so little time. You truly hadn’t realized how much you needed him around you until you thought about just how soon he’d be leaving.

Of course, he would go back to Camp Jupiter; you knew that. This was never meant to be permanent; you were sure he missed his old life, his old friends, his old home. But part of you, somewhere in the deepest, most selfish part of your heart, wanted him to stay. You wanted him to forget about Rome, and Jupiter, and the quest. You wanted him to stay here with the strawberry fields and the books and the beach and with you. You wanted him to forget his sense of duty to a place that never cared and stay with someone who would give their whole heart away just to see him be happy for a moment longer. It was a feeling that filled you with guilt every time it crossed your mind.

It had occupied your thoughts nearly the entire day when Jason came to your cabin that evening. He knocked on the door until one of your siblings answered, and they called you over, muttering something about stupid and lovesick and so annoying that you hadn’t totally caught.

You stepped onto the porch and closed the cabin door, leaving Jason and you alone in the dim light of the setting son. He was handsome as ever, a fact that you had resolved not to dwell on; plenty of people found their closest friends to be stunningly beautiful, it wasn’t a big deal.

In fact, it was totally normal for someone to notice exactly when their best friend had skipped their usual haircut and started letting the military style grow or how their eyes exploded with color when the sun hit them just right. And, of course, there was no deeper reason for why you would pick up on every scrape or bruise he’d gotten from training. You were just hyper-observant, never mind that it only applied to one person.

As you took him in, scanning for the weariness you so often saw and he so often dismissed, you noticed more than anything how nervous he was. “What’s up?”

“Hey, um, I just wanted to, well.” He took a deep breath and let his words spill out a mile a minute. He told you that the Argo II would be ready to fly any day now. He told you how they were going to find Percy and how the first place they were going to check was New Rome. He brought up his old life, a life he wanted to remember, a life he thought he would remember when he got back there. These were all things you’d know and that filled you with dread, but you let him talk without interrupting. His rambling soon turned to a topic you haven’t expected, it turned to you. He told you how important you were to him, how much you’d helped him adjust to life at camp, and how much he appreciated everything you’d done for him.

As he went on and on, you felt your heart begin to pound. The way he was talking lit a spark inside your gut, and the borderline desperation in his voice made you dare to hope. The emotion in his eyes made you think maybe, just maybe, he felt the same kind of connection that you felt with him. You could tell it was going somewhere important, somewhere that made him nervous and hopefully at the exact same time.

“I guess I just realized while we were planning in the bunker,” he began to close in on his point. “How important you are to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like without you. You can say no of course, it’s a lot to ask of anyone but,” he took another breath. “Do you want to come with me to New Rome?”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. The funny feeling in your gut shifted and morphed, flashing through disappointment for a brief moment. As Jason waited for an answer, you had to process exactly what he’d asked. Going back to New Rome meant he was going back to his old life, a fact you were all too aware of, but now, maybe you didn’t have to lose him to it. He still wanted you by his side. He still wanted you to be a part of his life.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “Yes, of course, I’ll go,” you watch the relief wash over him, his nerves visibly dispersing as one of the widest smiles you’d ever seen etched itself across his face.

In the next moment, he wrapped his arms around you. It was a bone-crushing hug that squeezed the air from your lungs, and you wrapped your own arms around him as tightly as you could. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispered to you as you tried to stop your heart from exploding. This wasn’t how you wanted it, but at least for now, this would be enough.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

There's pt1 :) part two is almost done already because I wrote most of it before I even started all this, but what I can say, the keyboard got away from me. let me know if any of y'all want to be tagged in pt2 or in my general Jason taglist.

#jason grace x reader #percy jackson #writing fanfic #writing fanfiction #jason grace #jason grace x y/n #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #pjo x you #pjo hoo #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #heros of olympus x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months ago

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King and Prince 31

Part 30

The crowd was filled to the brim. Eddie’s inner circle was seated in the royal viewing box. Eddie wasn’t there yet though. Because of course he had to make an entrance. As a great black bird, he flew over the venue, his cry echoing through the field. He landed in the center of the arena in an explosion of black shadows as he took his human form to the cheers of his subjects.

“Dearest people of the land!”, he addressed. “We have gathered to settle the dispute between two men. But before I introduce them, let me settle the rumors. I am indeed courting Steven of the house Harrington.”

There was a hushed murmur among the audience. So it was true. Their king was trying to gain the favor of a prince from a country that had until recently been challenging their borders. The people had chalked up the lull in activity to the usual break when the demobeasts went into hibernation. But could it have been because of this? Eddie wouldn’t reveal that Steve had been taken hostage and had turned into a ward of his castle. That was Steve’s story to tell should he wish it. Eddie would only say what his people deserved to know.

“That brings us to today. For one man has sullied the names of us both and my intended requires satisfaction.” He was beaming, happy to have someone who burned with a righteous fury for him.”Without further ado! Our combatants!” He gave a sweeping bow to applause as Jason and Steve entered from opposite sides of the arena.

“Jason Carver has laid down words that he refuses to take back. Steven Harrington has thrown down the challenge. What are the terms?”

“Apologize to your sovereign and swear fealty, or meet your end at my hand”, Steve said, expression hard and unforgiving.

“I will do no such thing. And when you yield to me, your only path will be banishment”, Jason replied, face just as stern.

The clasped arms and then turned to go back to opposite ends of the arena. Eddie floated over to the viewing box and waited for both of them to grab their weapons of choice. Jason picked up a sword and shield, a classic decision. When he turned to meet Steve’s gaze, he could see that the prince’s choice wasn’t quite as common.

Steve went without a shield. And grasped tightly in both hands instead was a war hammer. The staff stopped just short of his shoulder, the head about twice as large as his own. The rod ended with an iron counterweight. Eddie looked to Lucas.

“Has he been training with that this whole time?”

“He’s a pro”, Lucas praised.

Dustin’s whole mouth showed with his smile. “Carver is about to get tenderized like a steak.”

“A brutish weapon befitting a barbarian”, Jason said, more to the crowd than to Steve.

Steve’s expression didn’t change as he got in his stance and waited for Eddie to officially start the bout. Eddie stood from his seat, his voice reverberating through all in attendance as he shouted.

“BEGIN!”

Jason did catch Steve a little off guard when he lunged first, closing the distance between them. With the kind of weapon Steve was wielding, most would keep away. But he could guess as to why Jason wanted the first blow. He wanted this to be quick and decisive. Anyone would fold with a few well placed cuts and stabs.

He was probably also hoping to tire Steve out. Steve would make sure it wasn’t so easy for him. When Jason lunged, he stepped out of the way and swung his hammer. Jason raised his shield to take the blow and blocked it well, but his eyes popping said he hadn’t been expecting the power behind it.

Jason re-evaluated, taking a step back. And where he retreated, Steve would advance, making wide swings that had Jason backing up even more.

Eddie’s hands were clenched into fists in his lap. He had caught Steve training Lucas a couple times and sure he took things seriously, but it was a master putting a student through his trials. Eddie hadn’t been allowed to view Steve’s personal training this week. But he’d seen knight after knight tending to their bruises. If he’d been able to watch Steve then, was this the sight he would’ve seen? Steve moving like both a dancer and a predator, his hammer his loyal partner.

The hollers of the kids told him that even this was different than what they had seen. He imagined Steve wouldn’t attack his knights with the ferocity he was meeting Jason with. At one point, Steve slammed it down and Jason just barely jumped out of the way. When Steve pulled it back up, Eddie could see the dent in the ground. A hit in the right place and broken bones would be the least of Jason’s worries.

Then Steve stopped his onslaught, taking a breath as he circled Jason. When he started again, Jason raised his shield to each attempt, seemingly blocking them all.

“He’s gonna turn Carver’s arm to paste”, Nancy commented.

Part of the crowd was raising their voices in cheer for Jason, unable to see what Nancy’s eyes did. Steve kept going for Jason’s left side, wanting him to use his shield. Because while it stopped him from hitting Jason’s entire body, it still took the brunt force of the hammer coming down on it. And that was evident as each time his arm was slower and slower to rise.

Tired of being on the defensive, Jason lowered his shield to jab at Steve. He managed to get a few knicks in, going for Steve’s head each time and giving him cuts on his neck and face. Eddie’s leg bobbed anxiously. He didn’t think Steve would lose. The only question was how much damage would he take before claiming victory.

The crowd wasn’t sure what to make of Steve, many recognizing him from dominating the spring games but not knowing his true identity then. In a shocking move, Jason dropped his shield and threw his sword at Steve. He dodged and it lodged itself into the ground, but that confusion was enough of a distraction for Jason to tackle him to the ground. The staff of the hammer stood between them, both men pushing on it.

“Forfeit and all will be forgiven”, Jason said. “We will wed and this can all be forgotten. I’ll make an honest man out of you.”

“What?”

“You know I’m the right choice.”

With a roar, Steve pushed Jason off and rose up to his knees. “You’re vile and I’m going to end you.” he set his hammer, head side down and grabbed the sword Jason had been using. He tossed it back to him, waiting for him to pick it up.

When Jason did, Steve picked up his hammer again. This time he didn’t hold back. He advanced, forcing Jason to make fruitless slashes. Steve used the end of his hammer to knock Jason’s wrist, forcing him to drop the sword. He could see the fear in Jason’s eyes but didn’t let up. His next strike was with the head of the hammer, getting Jason right in the leg and making him fall to the ground.

Steve stood over him, hammer poised to strike. But he paused to look at Eddie, his shoulders rising and falling as he panted.

Eddie’s eyes had been glued to Steve’s form. As had everyone else’s. But at this pause, the crowd hushed, waiting for their king’s decision. Would he smile with grace on the Carver boy? Or would he approve his execution?

Eddie stood up. “He is at your mercy, Your Highness.”

It had been so long since anyone had referred to Steve like that. With any sort of respect or reverence for his title. He looked down at Jason, imagined his head cracking like a melon and the crowd cheering for him. The rightful order restored. He slammed his hammer down, splitting the ground under it, but not Jason’s head.

“You live by the grace of me”, Steve said, picking his hammer up and raising it above his head to thunderous cheers.

Jason was stationary on the ground until people came to gather him and check over his wrist and leg.

Eddie jumped out of the box and ran right to Steve, grabbing his free hand and lifting it up. “Our champion!”

Steve was able to deposit the hammer with one of those employed by the castle’s armory and Eddie walked him out of the arena. Once out of sight from most of the crowd, Eddie scooped Steve up and Steve let him, exhausted from the fight.

“You were magnificent, a vision, unstoppable. Like a divine spirit of justice incarnate. Poets could spend ages trying to capture your excellence in words and would fail to do so.”

“Oh but I’m certain you’ll try”, Steve teased as Eddie carried him back to his tent to be tended to and freshen up. There were games scheduled for the small folk and for children as well. No need to let this good weather and arena only see one bout today.

When Steve rejoined the public, it was on the arm of the king and to his viewing box where all who could see observed their lord and ruler feed this mighty warrior by hand. And Steve had been right about Eddie trying his damndest to capture his feats in writing. Because just the next day, he awoke to about half a dozen love letters all about the previous day’s fight.

Part 32

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie

@goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble

@jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24

@justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void

@nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie

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that1emowitch · 1 month ago

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here me out

AU where instead of doing the whole red hood thing, jason just stays with the all caste. he finally meets the batfam when the justice league is facing a threat and need the help of the all caste. could be pretty good angst, since it directly disproves every shitty thing bruce said about jay, and bruce realises that his son was alive like way later than in canon

also it's a crime that jayessence basically doesn't exist, there are 11 fics on ao3. i want jayessence and competent!jason pls

That'll be so interesting, ur right! I'm definitely gonna go read RHATO issues again so I refresh my memory (if there r any other issues with the all-caste story PLEASE lmk cuz i have a very tumultuous love/hate relationship with RHATO lol)

I think Jason would've been happier, with the All-Caste. Talia would've visited him when she could (let's make her a mom not a pedo), Ducra would've trained him in every single war form she knew, putting hum on a path to surpass even her

Essence and Jay would've been her top students (if u don't mind, could u pls give me a lil recap on what Essence's story is? I kinda got confused in that part. Was she banished? She's one of the Untitled, technically, is she not? I don't rmbr 😭)

But basically, Jayessence! I've never read a fic about it or written one, but I've always thought it was an interesting dynamic! It'd be fun to try writing it out. Maybe I'll make a happier AU, where Essence and Jason train together under Ducra, both of them named her heirs. That kinda makes them play-fight with each other which ends up with them kissing. Oh god Jason would be so smitten by her, he'd pretend to be annoyed but he knows she's a goddess, knows she could kill him in a blink, knows his blade could kill her—but they both choose to love. AAHHABSBSHS I'm dying

Then the Untitled attack.

I love Ducra so much, she's their BAMF Granny, so let's not kill her. Maybe instead, she is kidnapped, in hopes of getting Jason and Essence to surrender (They know these two could destroy them). And at the same time, the Untitled are also attacking JLA outposts, for a reason I'll come up with later. Bruce remembers, back when he trained under the League, Ra's mentioning evil beings of this type, immortal and unstoppable by all but the All-Caste. Hence they seek their help.

And with Ducra gone, Jason and Essence are in charge, and they have to meet with the JLA—with Batman, Superman, and WW, specifically.

Jason makes sure to cover himself completely. Puts white nose generators in his mask and chest plate to ward off Supes. Makes sure to double, triple check his voice modulator. He cannot risk them finding out his true identity.

Not when he's finally recovering from his past as Robin.

I'm imaging they work together for a while, with everyone noticing the Red Hood (would he still be called Red Hood, if he never returned to Gotham? Maybe? Maybe he was reclaiming it, as a way to heal himself instead of for getting revenge) basically everyone notices RH being antsy around Batman. The amount of effort he puts into concealing his identity, unlike the other members of All-Caste. His name being Joker’s old name, something deeply meaningful to Gothamites.

Batman thinks RH is a reformed Gotham villain, who he's dealt with before. He thinks that's why RH doesn't ever face him, doesn't look him in the eye. He feels bad for him, but is strangely proud (just feel like mentioning, the thing about Batman is, he cares SO MUCH. About everyone. He feels sorrow when they lose themselves to their insanity, feels guilt over it. And he feels pride when they bounce back, grow better, like Harley Quinn did.) Like, this man, this absolute machine, clearly well honed and trained, who seems more than capable of taking on the entire Justice League by himself. Clearly he has experience.

Essence helps Jason through it. Soothes him at night when he has panic attacks, because his Dad is two rooms away from him. Helps him cope. Helps him calm down.

Then one day in some battle, one of the Untitled fatally injures Jason, and Batman is the only one nearby. Batman takes a hasty decision, rips Jason's mask off to save him.

And freezes.

That... that's his son. He looks older, more scarred, but thats... that's his SON!

(ALSO another addition: when they find Ducra she's like "uncuff me, and I'll show you just who Essence and Jason learnt from" BAMF!DUCRA FOR LIFEE)

Sorry for the rambling I just kept getting ideas and I kept writing lol

I promise I'll write this as a proper story as soon as I can, thanks so much for the ask! As usual, lmk in the comments if you'd like me to tag u in updates, also feel free to share any ideas u have! I'm just writing what yall want to read that makes me happy hehe

#note to self: write this later #jason todd #batfam #batman #red hood #all caste jason todd #justice league #fanfic #essence #ask

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igotanidea · 11 months ago

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Mistletoe: Jason Todd X reader

Christmas bingo day 15: mistletoe

Christmas bingo masterlist

"for the love of –‘’

She really should have seen this coming, right?

***

“Y/n?” she was barely reacting too distracted by what her beloved boyfriend Jason just told her “YN!” her blank face expression made Todd want to shake her a little to bring her back to reality. As for now he was effectively fighting that urge but each second of her acting like a lunatic were putting his patience to a very hard test. “How many fingers do you see?”

“Now that’s mean.” She came to life rolling her eyes at the charades

“Made you get back down to earth.”

“I’m shocked, not hazy.”

“Why?”

“Why?” was he even serious “you want the list on chronological or alphabetical order?”

“Humour me princess.”

“First: you’re attending a Christmas party at the Wayne Manor? You?”

“It’s only for Alfred’s cooking.”

“Mhm. Obviously.” she teased” Second, you are going to wear formal clothes? You?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like me in a suit, won’t you?” Jason reached for her waist pulling her closer to him and caressing the small of her back.

“I like you best when - “

“Oh, don’t I know that….” He murmured in her ear “we’ll get there too I promise.”

“Jace?” her sudden pulling back took him by surprise and when she raised her head to meet his eyes, the unclear message coming from them made him shiver.

“You don’t want to go?” a few years prior, if someone were to tell him he would actually have a girlfriend and wanted to show her off to his siblings and – well – Bruce- he’ll laugh at that person face. In the darkest times he was on the war path with his adoptive father and even being in the same city was almost unbearable. Not that it was sunshine and roses now, but they definitely worked through some differences and – a real miracle –talked for the first time in years. “It’s okay if you don’t.’ no matter the effort there was no way to hide the tone of disappointment in his voice. “we can spend the Christmas eve together, just the two of us and –“

“No! no, no! Jason. I do want to go. I mean , come on, Wayne Manor. Maybe I’ll finally wrap my head around the fact that my boyfriend is the son of a billionaire and start taking advantage of it.” She laughed happily ruffling his hair, that were calling for a hairdresser, but she loved that unruly shag regardless. “I just wonder-“

“what? You’re chickening out? You already know all of them, guess that eliminates the element of surprise when Dick climbs the chandelier or starts balancing on the chair.”

“Am I reading too much into it?”

“What are you talking about, princess? What’s there to overinterpret – oh!”

“Yeah….” She muttered and looked down, suddenly embarrassed of what she said, cursing herself internally for destroying the atmosphere as his grip weakened and mouth hanged open. “You’re inviting me to an official party. As your official girlfriend….”

“It’s not like they don’t know we’re together. Damn, Y/N, you had no idea how much teasing I had to put up with.”

“What did you to Tim, Jason?”

“Nothing! I swear.” he let go of her completely, much to her irritation, raising hands in surrender. The man build like a tank were trying to protect himself from his significantly smaller girlfriend.

“Jason Peter Todd.”

“Nothing permanent. Now, don’t change the subject.”

“Me? I’m still waiting for your answer.”

“You’re not reading too much into it. I want you there. Officially. Before someone get any stupid ideas of stealing you away from me.”

“Not a change, pretty boy.” She drummed her fingers on his chest, feeling his heartbeat “not when I almost give you a heart attack every time I’m near you. It’s the kind of power you don’t give up easily.”

“You say that now, you power-hungry woman. I’m sure you’d love some more hearts to your collection.”

“I have always been a fan of quality rather than quantity. And so it happens I got the best quality available on the market” she smiled at him lovingly, her pretty eyes sparkling.

“You’re mine, you little tease” in a blink of an eye he was holding her again, running fingers through her hair and connecting their foreheads, letting himself be vulnerable and wishing she could read his mind and hear the words he was unable to articulate “thank you…”

Thank you for existing.

Thank you for staying by my side.

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for accepting my broken, imperfect love.

***

As every real woman, she had nothing to wear and had to fix some outfit with the old clothes, found at back of the closet, about to feel terribly underdressed.

Or at least that was the plan, before she found neatly wrapped package with her name written across the paper and became a proud owner of the most beautiful and elegant dress she has ever seen.

Turned out Jason had an amazing sense of fashion, picking an outfit serving as a mix of style and quietness.

However, when she asked him about it, the only answer she get was I know what I want to see you in. In Jason’s language it was a sign of care that she won’t feel like an outcast around the female guests, but also a little hint at potential jealousy and protection against possible lustful glances from other men.

Doing a poor job at the second part of it, cause once they entered the manor, all eyes landed on her, leaving Jason gritting his teeth and refusing to leave her alone for even a second. This drove him to such an extreme that he even followed her to the bathroom and was giving responses on her behalf whenever anyone dared to ask her to dance.

“No, of course you can not dance with her. Can’t you see she’s already got a partner, back off, dude.”

Such words were followed by the tightening grip on her hip each time a man gathered enough courage to come too close.

Too close being a couple feet.

“Jason!” she whined at some point “don’t be mean. You don’t dance, you had grown attached to the chair and I'm bored. Come on, just let go off me, it’s not like I’m going to run away from you or anything…” she tried to break free but it was no use, considering both Jason’s strength and possessiveness.

“Sorry, princess. I don’t trust those fops. Can’t risk their hands wondering some place only mine are allowed.”

“But Jay-“

“No one but me dances with you.” He said sternly and much to her surprise dragged her to the dancefloor. What was even bigger shock was that he actually knew how to move. He knew the steps, had a perfect sense of rhythm and definitely did not stump on her feet, not even once, holding her gently, leading her to the music and being delicate and protective, almost making her swoon with the charm.

Apparently, she didn’t know her boyfriend at all.At least not from this side.

He never failed to make her feel safe and loved, but now – encompassed by his arms, held like the most precious person in the world, she felt like a true princess. Something she never experienced before.

“How do you like that, love?” he whispered in her ear, holding her a bit more firmly, causing her heart rate to spike.

“moderately –“

“Then why is your heart racing?” he spun her around perfectly, making sure she was quickly and safely back in his hold.

“It’s not.”

“Well then, it’s about to.” He smirked guiding her a little bit to the right, looking up with the mischievous look in his eyes.

Mistletoe.

“You’re not going to kiss me in the crowd with everyone -“

He was going to.

And most importantly – he actually did.

Luckily she didn’t know that plant wasn’t there earlier and only appeared because of some skilfull vigilante being jealous of the glances thrown her way. Luckily she didn't hear the muffled chuckles coming from the side of the stairs as Dick, Tim and Damian appeared all together out of nowhere, after being gone for a longer while.

She didn't care.

Not as long as she was standing under the mistletoe fulfilling the tradition that came with it with the most wonderful and sneaky bastard if a man there was.

And who couldn't care less about the glances now.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #christmas bingo

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gffa · 2 years ago

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ALL RIGHT SO I’M GONNA HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT JASON TODD. We’re setting aside the Tim characterization because it’s not actually Tim and what’s important is Jason’s reaction because that’s my Jason, the guy who I don’t think has ever really hated Tim, he hated what Tim represented. He hated that this life they lead got him killed and Bruce didn’t seem to change a goddamned thing and now there’s another kid caught up in this war and Jason hates that. Jason doesn’t want this kid to suffer and it makes him so fucking angry. So when Tim says he’s going to kill the person that hurt his parents, that they’ll have to fight him if they want to save those assholes in there, Jason decks him. Because Jason doesn’t want Tim to go down that road, he doesn’t want Tim destroyed by anger and vengeance, that Jason doesn’t give in to his own anger and desire for vengeance when he sees that it would help destroy Tim to do so. I will die on the hill that Jason Todd cares so goddamned much about everyone in his family and he’s angry because he doesn’t want them going through the same shit. I mean, also they’re incredibly annoying, but mostly because he doesn’t want them going down that path, he wants to protect those kids, even if it means punching them in the face to save them from a bad road.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #robins: being robin

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spectral-snippets-and-drabbles · 1 year ago

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Death Warrant!Au

When the rejuvenating, life-extending effects of ectoplasm to the dead and dying was discovered by planets across the stars, it triggered mass conflicts that left several systems obliterated beyond repair. Hundreds of Billions had migrated to the Realms in numbers that were never seen before by the residence of the dead. They had various forms of damage and disfigurement on their new forms as a result of the ectoplasm being weaponized and used on them. Their very beings were corrupted beyond repair with their minds significantly altered with highly specified obsessions.

• Peoples from the destroyed worlds being so afraid that they lashed out, ripping anything that saw them to pieces out of fear of being attacked.

A serpentine creature of the Realms eagerly stalking them and fed upon their cores to grow stronger.

• Soldiers of these races were hell-bent on continuing to fight and proceeded to attempt subjugate this dimension that was new to them. Their rage guiding them blindly as they left paths of destruction throughout the realm.

A beast, wrongly slaughtered in the early madness of an delicate fledgling world that happened to be rich with ectoplasm followed the warpath and basked in the rage.

Eventually, more creatures like them came to prominence as a result of these strange new victims. Being aspects of emotion that were born from the masses in the war.

The Ghost King during this time period could not sit idly by and watch these newly born ghosts run rampant and terrorize his kingdom. With a heavy heart and a weapon in hand, a call to arms was called and the purge of these beings began. It tooks thousands of years, but when the last corrupted ghost was destroyed, the King took to the realm of living and wiped away all traces of the Realms from the minds of the survivors with all recollections of this terrible war for ectoplasm erased from history.

As his rested his eyes one final time, before the Tyrant would cowardly claim his life, made a major, sacred declaration that all citizens was made:

• If any hostile, mutant ghosts were to be found, they were to captured and examined by the king's council to await judgement. If they are too dangerous to restrain and seek bloody violence, they are to be destroyed.

• Any scientists trying to use ectoplasm for endangering life were to be have their memories erased and put to the sword for their crimes.

• Anyone foolish enough to Defy Death using ectoplasm, the greatest violation of the laws in the infinite Realms, they were to be put to death as and immediately given their Second End.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

When Pariah Dark, the Cowardly Tyrant King, is defeated and Danny fianlly takes the throne after a few centuries of training, the Observers hand him a compiled a list of names who violated these sacred laws.

They have him start with Earth and Danny's jaw hits the floor with what the charges he was seeing. He can already hear the chaos in the meeting room.

• Amanda Waller, Vandal Savage, Darkseid, Granny Goodness, a court of owls(?)...the list is long, and that's just Earth alone!

• Jack "The Goddamn Joker" Napier and a few of the more violent Rouges of Gotham are charged with Veil Destabilization.

Even Jason Peter Todd Wayne...the Red Hood!? Danny can probably work something with Jason, force him into therapy sessions (along with the whole damn family) with Jazz and a couple cleansing sessions and supplements from Frostbite...the others had to go...

The continued slaughter of the innocent, combined with the suffering they endured and the misery felt by Shades who couldn't move on was making the veil deteriorate at dangerous speeds. New pits would form across the city eventually as a result.

Lady Gotham has done everything she can to keep the madness from happening but she can't hold it back any longer. Her core is ready to shatter under the stress and is constantly in agony, but she won't abandon her knights, despite Danny's pleas to save herself.

There's a certain brigade of furry's who may or may not like this news but said brigade had no choice but to take it on the chin. They have children who Defied Death in their ranks and the Realms are not afraid to destroy anyone foolish enough to stop them.

• Lex Luther is charged with crimes against humanity. And several other violations in regards to unethical experimentation.

One sticks out to Danny.

Lex used Danny's stolen DNA from a stray core shard from the Guys in White, who he was was funding in secret, even after they were disbanded, to create a clone comprised of the Earth's resident Kryptonian, the bald bastard, and himself to kill and replace said Kryptonian...the guy who literally helps save the earth time and time again from doom.

...Yeah, Lex is undoubtedly, fucked beyond total comprehension. Anyone defending him was risking all-out war with the Infinite Realms.

But hey, at least Danny was finally having child of his own! The little tyke is only a few years old in the tube, Ellie's visits are far and in-between and Danny's status as a Halfa made him sterile and develop an embarrassingly strong case of baby fever.

He's sure the ghosts from Krypton would love to help out in raising Conner in case Kal-El wasn't really planning on being around the boy. After all, being cloned himself, Danny knows the emotional baggage that comes with being violated to this degree by your enemy.

He just hopes the guy can come around and accept the little guy...

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #justice league #danny phantom #my prompts #Death Warrant!Au #I've seen fics were Danny Time Travels to fix things #I've also read were he gains amnesia so he accidentally lives in the past until he remembers who he is #Lex Luthor is a bitch with a very slappable bald head that Danny is gonna smack the soul out of #Danny is gonna hook up Jason with therapy from Jazz and cleansing sessions with Frostbite #When Damien is finally born and with Bruce is the day everyone in the League of Assassins is gonna get wiped off the face the fucking Earth #You don't fuck with the abyss because it'll do more than simply look back #Eldritch Mama Bear!Danny #Conner is gonna be spoiled rotten #If Damien is also partially Danny's kid he wont wait and waste the League the second he can grab him #Being the 'Demon's Head' doesn't mean jackshit when the ectoplasm youve been uskng is the equivalent of used toilet water #Bruce Wayne x Danny Fenton x Clark Kent #Clark was worried his many times great grandfather was hitting on him #But Danny told him that he helped save krytpon and found the house kf El so there no blood relation #Due to amnesia inflicted during his time traveling Danny accidently created the embodiments lf Emotion from each Lantern Corps #Danny's first anniversary gift is bringing Bruce and Clark's parents to Earth to spend tkme with them #Bruce is afraid this will be the last time he gets to see them but Danny tells him he and Clark can tag along for Jason's treatment #Alfred is happy for his boy and is happy to see Thomas and Martha #Conner and Clark bonding with Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van about Krypton culture

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starlightshadowsworld · 1 year ago

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"Bruce didn't mean to hurt Jason's neck, it was an accident."

Motherfucker threw a batarang which is basically a knife boomerang.

Threw it at the wall directly behind Jason at his shoulder neck.

... The fuck did he think it was going to do? Get stuck into a wall? Than why would he throw it?

It was going to bounce off and cut through Jason's neck.

The Joker, the fucker Joker congratulations him for his trick shot.

He knew what he was doing.

And it's fucked.

Which is probably why the Under the Red Hood movie changed it to Bruce throwing the knife into Jason's gun.

So it hurt his hand and not his neck.

This is why he's pissed at you man, you didn't just choose the Joker.

You decided your son deserves death more than his murderer does.

No wonder Jason has issues.

And incase anyone thinks thats just a one time note... Nope.

Bruce's said to Jason, multiple times he should've stayed dead.

Hell in the current run, Batman 137 Bruce says to Jason, while attacking him and all of his children.

"If you think one death is fine if it stops more death. Then shouldn't I kill you?!"

It's one thing to say this is completely out of character for him to do.

Because it is and I very much agree with you there.

This is the same Bruce who was on a war path to kill the Joker but because at the time he had immunity.

From being the UN govenor of Iran... I... Don't ask.

The UN had to send Superman to talk Bruce down lest a war broke out.

And even than Bruce crashed the hellicopter the Joker was on hoping it would kill him.

That Bruce would never have done that to Jason, especially knowing how lethal if could have been.

This is the Bruce who when KGBeast shot Dick Grayson in the head.

And we got... Ric...

Bruce tracked down KGBeast, beat him the fuck out of him.

Broke his neck just enough to paralyse him.

And left him in the middle of nowhere.

In the snow.

And when KGBeast is like hey if you help me.. I'll tell you who hired me to kill your boy.

Bruce says "I've got a bullet in my arm and a body of hurt. There's a 3000 click walk ahead of me. Through nothing but snow and ice."

Dramatically spits blood on the white snow.

"I'm the World's Greatest Detective. I'll find out who hired you and I will break them too. You can get your own damn help."

Also not the first time Bruce has tried to "not kill" KGBeast.

But that's beside the point.

He did that for Dick who while turned into the worst thing imaginable, was alive.

And you're telling me he wouldn't do the same for Jason?

Bullshit.

Man I miss when the thing was don't fuck with Batman's kids cos he'll fuck you up.

Instead of oh dear god Bruce stop hurting your damn kids.

If your version of Batman doesn't love his kids. Wouldn't do anything and everything for them.

Than he's not Batman.

#Tw ric grayson #bruce wayne #Batman #DC #jason todd #red hood #kgbeast #under the red hood #Batman 137 #the joker #dick grayson #nightwing #tw injury #Tw neck injuries

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dairy-farmer · 1 month ago

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Also. Had this idea a while ago.

A medieval setting.

There is a war. Bruce needs more warriors, knights, someone willing to fight. More weapons. More money. And it's just so happens that his neighbors have a young son they want to marry off. The Drakes are willing to unite their kingdoms and to secure the deal with marriage.

Bruce has no time for Tim. He doesn't even know if he's interested in being Tim's husband. People are dying, and he has to stop it.

Jason is just a second heir to the throne. A little bit too young to be send to war, still has things to learn. Plus his older brother is on the front lines, risking his life, which means that Jason has to stay safe, because someone is going to have to become the king.

Jason doesn't mean to fall in love with his kind of step-dad. But Tim is a bit younger than him. So small and delicate with a sweet smile. Tim was treated by everyone as a thing. Used by his parents, Bruce and all their advisors. Lonely little prince.

At first Jason is just keeping him company, but Tim is smart, kind and sassy...

And now all Jason cares about when he wakes up covered in sweat after dreaming about Tim is seeing him again.

He will be able to keep it all in. He can't act on his feelings. He can't. Even though it would be so easy with everyone constantly busy... No one would even notice.

Have a nice day.

jaytim

jason and tim are the only ones in the castle aside from some servants because as soon as the money, horses, and soldiers from bruce's marry to tim came through he went right back to war to help dick who was holding the front lines.

meanwhile jason is agitated because he's been left behind and is all alone and tim is used to being abandoned for months at a time so is just getting used to and exploring his new home while waiting for his husband to return. of course he and jason cross paths and jason shows tim around, gets to know him a little better because what else is he going to do?

jason getting to know tim, his interest, finding out tim has a genuine personality he's just quiet after spending his life being ignored. jason growing attatched to his sort of step father and it eventually turning to something more because tim listens to him and enjoys spending time with him.

and jason knows he shouldn't that its his dad's husband, married for political and financial reasons but still!!!

jason having to fight his own desires because its not like anyone will ever know!!! everyone is away and servants always gossip and so jason knows exactly how to avoid them to prevent feeding their cycle.

bruce and tim's marriage is a bloodline ending marriage- it's not like tim can possibly have children. and its not like bruce would want any anyway, he already had two. an heir and the spare.

if bruce were a girl, a sweet little wife left behind to maintain the estate while the husband was away and jason was getting feelings than yeah that would be different. there were actual consequences that could result from an affair.

but tim's marriage is purely political, his and bruce's marriage was never consummated since bruce practically abandoned his own reception to ride back to battle.

jason is certain that it doesn't mean anything. but he hesitates because that's his father and...and he respects tim too much to ruin his reputation like that if it ever got out.

just jason being stuck in the impossible situation of falling in love with his dad's husband!!!!1

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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yall-batman-fanfic · 13 days ago

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Angels and Demons (Halloween Special) Part 3/3: Justice League Dark x Magician!Reader

Synopsis: They were all too late. Mammon has come to earth and the only one who can take out the Prince of Hell is Vivian, and to do that she needs to unlock a power that she's been hiding and a power that even her mother and John fears.

“No…” Bruce fell to his knees as he saw Vivian's lifeless body in the fountain. Her stomach cut open. Entering the bloodied pool, Bruce pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “No, no, no…”

“Bats… I,” Constantine looked away from the sight of her corpse. This is what he was willing to do all those years ago, but as he looked at her now, John couldn't fathom what he was capable of up close. In theory he could – maybe with anyone else he could. But Vivian. He'll admit that during their time together he did care for her, not as much as she did for him but he did. And it was unfair that he never gave her what she only wanted from him.

It took her years to find that with another man. Someone who deserved it more.

“Alfred, send the Mech Suit,” Batman ordered in his comms.

“Sir, the prototype isn't finished yet. It's not safe to use for combat!” Alfred spoke through their comms.

“I don't care! Send it in!”

“Batman, don't,” Nightwork spoke in their comms. “This is suicide. Do you really think you can defeat that by punching it?”

“I don't care,” Batman carried Vivian's body from the pool and placed her on the ground. He covers her up with the cape to hide the body until he returns for her. “That bastard is mine. They killed my wife. My world. And I am not holding back now.”

“I'm with you on this, B,” Jason spoke.

“Jason!” Oracle tried to talk him out of it but Jason was out for blood too. When he came back from the dead, he promised to always protect her but he wasn't there to save her from this.

“So am I, Father,” said Damian.

“No. All of you stand back. This son of a bitch is mine.”

The pod landed on Lady Gotham's island like a meteor crashing to earth. But this one didn't create a crater, it just crushed the ground and took hold of it as Batman approached the pod and scanned his palm on the biometrics scanner. The machine came to life and transformed into a large mech suit with a pilot's seat in its chest.

“Are you just going to stand there, Constantine?” Batman said with the suit's comms, giving him a robotic sound.

“I'll make sure to follow your lead. Just clear the path for me, would you?”

Batman said nothing and left the island in the suit, preparing for war.

Alone on that island, Constantine knelt before Vivian and pulled the cape off her body. He eyed the markings on her side. The tattoos. He cursed. Conjuring the spear to his hands Constantine slashed that side of the tattoo then started carving on the other side of her body as he started the ritual.

“Shoddy work, Madeline Pryor,” Constantine muttered as he finished. “Let’s hope this works, shall we?”

Standing up, Constantine held his hands over the body and began the incantation. Beneath his hovering hands, Vivian's body began to burn and mend, her bones and flesh knitting back together, the swelling disappearing.

Vivian gasped and shot up as life came back to her body. She ran her hands through her body, feeling where the knife ripped her open but felt her body whole again. In fact, she felt far better than she felt even before all of this.

“Welcome back to the living, Vee,” Constantine held out his hand to her.

Taking it, Vivian got up to her feet and asked, “I was dead.”

“You were.”

“But I wasn't in hell? What happened, where's Bruce?”

“I brought you back to life, love. See this,” he pointed to the scratched out tattoo. “That spell doesn't counter bad spirits. It keeps away something more powerful. There's a reason why I did what I did then, and it was the same thing that scared your mother to do that. Your power is not just magic like ours. You have something that exists across universes – the destroyer and creator of all things. A Phoenix. And I was afraid of it too.” John then pointed to her other side where the scars were shaped in runes appeared. “With a new and proper seal, it doesn't keep it locked up. It lets you access it like a door…”

“You did this?” Vivian said in a whisper.

“See it as an apology that's been way overdue, love… Batman's gone to Gotham using a mech suit, and he's probably fighting that bastard who killed you. Wanna go on a test run with your new tricks?”

Vivian looked at where the battle in Gotham commenced. “Just like old times, John?”

John smirked. “Aye, just like old times. But this time, you lead. Give ‘em real hell, Vee.”

Pushing her forearms together, fighting the force that kept it apart, Vivian cast the incantation to break the binding: “Otni eht thgil, I dnammoc eeth!”

Gold flames burst from where she stood and touched the heavens, and before it could clear up, Vivian disappeared from John's side and was flying across Gotham's harbor like a comet.

~*~

It wasn't the demon he was fighting.

As he rocketed himself to Gotham, he was met halfway by Superman and the mind-controlled Kryptonian was ripping the suit piece by piece as they fought over Gotham harbor. He didn't want to do it, but Batman was forced to use the Kryptonite he kept in the mech suit to weaken the man and punched him across the face.

This wasn't the fight he was putting his life on the line for. The fight he had was with that demon who killed his wife. But Superman has done the damage on the suit, the pod was almost ripped open, and since it was a prototype its rockets were failing, and the power was shutting down.

They were falling from the sky with no hope of a soft landing!

A force pulled Batman and Superman from the great height they were descending from towards land. It felt like gravity was forcing them to land, but before they could crash, the suit and Superman halted in midair. Opening the pod, Batman came face to face with a miracle.

“Hello, my love,” Vivian greeted with her magical energy exhuming around her like flames, making her fiery hair float around, and her eyes shone gold.

“Vivian,” Bruce gasped.

Smiling softly, Vivian placed down the armor and Superman to the ground and helped him out of the suit. She was actually standing there, unharmed, whole, and new. The injuries she got were healed, leaving just scars on her body. Her hair shone like fire, and her clothes changed as well. It was no longer the torn and bloodied ones she had, this time it was made of robes of flames and fashioned to some battle armor that befits a witch.

She took his hand, removing the glove she placed on her cheek, letting him feel the familiar warmth of her magic. But this time it felt warmer and powerful. “Missed me?” She teased and kissed his palm.

Bruce cupped her face and pressed his forehead on hers. “You were gone.”

“I know.”

“I saw your body…”

“I know, and I'm sorry that you had to go through that again, Bruce,” she kissed his tears away. “But I promise, it will never happen again.”

“Don't leave. It feels like it will be the last if you do,” Batman whispered, holding her tight.

“But I promise you, I won't. And someone has to kick that little fucker's ass.”

Bruce laughed and leaned down to kiss her. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and carried her off the ground, making Vivian laugh in the kiss.

“Oi,” John appeared at the harbor beside Superman who was gaining consciousness. “I brought you back from the dead to deal with that. You can eat each other's faces later, got that, Vee?”

Breaking the kiss, Vivian got down from Bruce's hold and handed him his cape. The cowl fixed to complete the set.

“Gotta go to work,” she said with a teasing smile. “Before I go…” she held out her palm at Superman's direction and cast the incantation. “That will get the big guy off your back.”

Vivian shot into the sky, with her magical energy, followed by John. Leaving Batman with Superman who was just recovering from the Kryptonite punches.

“Was that…” Superman began.

“Yes.”

Superman took a breath. “Remind me later that the League needs to discuss the amount of power Batman has in his arsenal.”

“She's not part of my arsenal, Clark. She's my wife.”

~*~

“Get Etrigan off the ground,” Vivian told Constantine, which was how he was floating above it all with the demon at his side being held by Zatanna.

At the very center of it all, Constantine saw the burst of light forming some sort of explosion. Gold flames covered Gotham's streets yet nothing burned. It just removed the dark magic that influenced the people around them. On land, sea, and air.

The power of the Phoenix, John thought as he watched her cleanse Gotham of Dark Magic in one swoop. Seeing the cleanse was done, he set him and Etrigan down before he, Zatann, and Etrigan joined her at the road.

“You know, as a mom, I really want to tell his dad about his temper tantrum,” Vivian mused as they watched Mammon summon more of his army.

“Wouldn’t that be interesting? You and Lucifer butting heads in PTA?” Constantine snickered. “Do you think the devil is old-fashioned or does read parenting blogs today and talks about his feelings to the brat?”

“I always thought him to be more of the corporal punishment type of parent. I mean, look at him, the kid's basically screaming for daddy's approval.”

Mammon screeched at their direction and had his hoard of demons attacking.

The first demon that came at her, Vivian pressed her hand on its chest and blasted heavy flames, turning it to ash, then waved it around to destroy the wave that came at them.

“I think you got this covered, Vee. Maybe I should just hop into a pub. Any recommendations?” Constantine jokes.

“Take him with you,” Vivian pointed at Gabriel, and the fallen angel was pulled from the ground and found himself kneeling before John. She sent another wave of purifying flames at the legion, leaving Mammon alone and for her trap in a magical circle above which she created to have at least a hundred mile radius, not giving him any chance to flee. She breathed out, and started the incantation.

“I will come back for you, Pryor!” Mammon sneered as his flesh started to burn.

“Who says I'm sending you back?” Vivian called out. “I'm making sure that you never come near me or my family ever again.”

“No!” Mammon ran towards her with his claws about to cut her in half but Vivian held him by his face and restrained the demon.

“I was going to say something witty and badass. But I thought, fuck it,” she said and blasted golden flames at his face, turning the demon to ash. Destroying it completely.

Once the bright flames disappeared, so did Vivian’s Phoenix form, leaving her in her bloodied clothes earlier and a nauseating feeling. She immediately felt someone at her side, and looking up she smiled at the sight of Dick keeping her from falling to the ground.

“Hi kiddo,” she reached up to him. Dick chuckled and leaned down so she could mess with his hair. “Sorry about movie night.”

“Are you serious right now? You’re more concerned about movie night and not the fact that you just died and came back to life, and burned that demon to ash?” Dick chuckled.

“Priorities,” she shrugged. “Hi, little bird!” She waved weakly at Jason who came down and ran to her side to cover her up with his jacket. “Such a sweet boy, always looking after me,” she teased Jason.

“You scared us earlier, Ma,” Jason chastised her.

“I know.”

“But that was badass. Saw everything from the building.”

“Where’s Red Robin and Robin?” She asked.

Right on time, Tim and Damian arrived to see how she was. Damian wrapped her in an embrace and listened to her heart. Making sure it was beating and this was her.

“You came back,” Damian said.

Vivian caressed her boys’ cheeks and whispered. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Getting up with Dick’s help, Vivian walked towards John who still had Gabriel in a binding spell, hanging from a street light. Huffing, Vivian said, “What to do, what to do?”

“Your call, Vee,” Constantine said as he lit a cigarette. “You were the one who was violated by a demon because of this bastard.”

“It seems a little too easy if we just poof him to ash.”

Constantine smirked. “Aye, far too easy. Do you reckon Arkham would take him?”

“Huh, that’s a good idea. I mean, King Tut’s there. I’m sure we can have a delusional angel there too.”

“But before we do,” John cast an incantation, putting a collar around Gabriel. “No way out of that. No divinity, no magic.”

“We’ll take him off your hands,” Wonder Woman appeared with the other members of the Justice League. A warning that they don’t do harm to someone who has already surrendered.

Vivian and John moved aside and let Green Lantern take Gabriel, but before the Lantern could leave, Vivian called for Gabriel and asked, “If it wasn’t Mammon who gave Ritchie the deal nor was Balthazar, who did it? Because you have no power to give them what they really desire.”

John removed the gag around his mouth to let the fallen angel speak. But Gabriel remained silent.

“No point in hiding your benefactor, Gabe,” John said. “It’s over. Out with it.”

Gabriel glared at them. “Something that is way out of your league.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer but it was all they were getting from him. Green Lantern left to take him to whatever prison would keep the immortal.

Before any of the Leaguers could say anything, Batman walked up to Vivian and wrapped her in an embrace, leaving the other members speechless as he held her tight.

“My love,” he whispered.

Vivian smiled in the embrace. “You’re lucky this area is deserted, Bats.”

“I don’t care. I got you back, that’s all that matters now.”

Vivian looked up to him and kissed his lips. “I love you,” she whispered.

The cough broke the couple from their embrace. It was Superman who caught their attention and said, “We’ll start with the clean up here in Gotham. We’ll also encourage the other local governments to send aid to Gotham after tonight.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” John said. “Oi, Bats, where's the nearest pub that doesn’t sell shitty drinks?”

Batman hummed in annoyance.

“Actually,” Vivian got out of Bruce’s embrace. “I need a drink too. I had a really, really, long day and I just need a pint.”

“You need more than one pint, Vee. You just had a demon crawl out of your body like you were delivering a C-section.”

“Do not ever give me that mental image again,” turning to Bruce, she said and kissed his cheek and said, “I’ll see you at home. Zatanna, come on! We deserve to celebrate! You too, Blood!”

Laughing, Zatanna joined as the two old friends, John and Vivian, walked down the road with Jason Blood coming back from Etrigan. As they left, John and Vivian started singing some song off tune. Jason was about to join them but Dick grabbed his arm and said, “You’re helping clean up.”

With the magic users heading to the nearest pub they can find, the Justice League were left to work with cleaning and rebuilding the damaged parts of Gotham.

“So… when are we gonna talk about the Professor’s new magical powers?” Flash asked.

~*~

After the events of the demon prince causing a rampage in Gotham, everything was back to normal with the Justice League and the help of other local governments giving aid to Gotham. Wayne Enterprises too gave their generous aid to those in need of medical care and for those who lost their homes.

In their home, Vivian and Bruce spent their time together after weeks of being swamped with work by gardening. The couple cleaned Helena’s stone and replaced the flowers that were dying with fresh new ones. Joining them in their peaceful time were the boys who took the other parts of the vast space – Jason trimming the hedges, Tim and Dick pulling out weeds, while Damian worked on Alfred’s little vegetable garden, making sure it was well kept. Inside, Alfred prepared their meal once they finished.

“The Justice League had a meeting the other day to finalize some things that have been bothering the other members,” Bruce spoke, breaking their comfortable silence.

“And what is it?” Vivian asked.

“We’ve extended the invitation to Zatanna. She’s agreed to join.”

“That’s nice, Zatanna would fit in. And John?”

“Constantine is still under evaluation.”

Vivian chuckled. “And?”

Bruce paused in his gardening and said, “They also want to extend the invitation to you. After recent events, they believe that it’s for the best that we have the Phoenix’s capabilities with the JLA.”

“The Phoenix. Already got a superhero name, huh?” Vivian teased. “They’re afraid that Batman’s got a world-destroying power up his sleeve now and wants to keep him underwraps by manhandling me? Tell them not to worry. My power is something that I can access if I want to, not something that I can’t control anymore. Thank John for that.”

“I’ll make sure to send him a message. But Vivian, what do you think?”

“What do you think, Bruce?«

"It's not my decision to make, Viv. It's yours."

Vivian leaned in and kissed his lips. "You know exactly what to say... but really, do you want me to join?"

"No, not really,” Bruce held her hand. “Not because I don't want you there or because I don't believe you can handle it but because a selfish part of me wants you to be here. Where you're safe. And even waiting for us to come home. Watching my back. Most of the members of this family already live that life, I would want at least one person who keeps us grounded. To remind us of the life that we are fighting for all this time. To make sure the boys have a life outside this job. For me too."

“Then I won’t join,” Vivian said. “And not just because of your speech, Bruce. But because I’m happy with my life now. I love my job at the university. I love teaching and doing all that research. And, I am getting used to making documentaries too.”

Bruce laughed and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll make sure that’s the only thing we show on all the televisions in Wayne Tower’s waiting areas.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Vivian grinned.

“What can I say? I’m in love with my wife… Thank you, Vivian.”

“What for?”

“For bringing me back from the grave. For giving Bruce Wayne a chance to live a life again.”

“I love you, you know that?”

Bruce got up, bringing Vivian with them, both finished with their work. “I think I know now.”

“What?”

“The protection spell you created for each of us.”

Vivian smiled at him teasingly, “and what is that, my love?”

“You sneaky, witch,” Bruce pressed a kiss on her cheek. “The nickname for the boys. And that song you and Alfred always sing whenever you prepare dinner.”

“And for you?”

“You just said it… boys, finish up! It’s time for lunch,” Bruce led Vivian back to the manor where Alfred waited by the door with Titus barking happily.

After the boys kept the tools in the shed and washed their hands, they joined the couple in the kitchen where Alfred showed them the menu for this afternoon. As they ate their meal, the music played in the background, and for once, they were a normal family spending a normal afternoon together. Happily.

~ Epilogue ~

“Desire, I’m coming to you.”

Dream appeared in the Threshold where Desire keeps the sigils of each one of their siblings, including his own. Sitting there, acting innocently, Desire greeted Dream with a purring hello. But Dream was not there for tricks.

He held his sibling by their throat and made them look at him. “I know it was you who caused the chaos in the Waking World. Learning the desires of the dying mortal, the fallen angel, and the demon. Giving them false promises.”

“I do not know what you talk about, Dream,” said Desire.

“Do not play me a fool, dear sibling. I shall warn you the last time. Leave the Phoenix be,” Dream ordered. “Or you shall answer to Death, Destiny, and myself for your recklessness. Is that clear?”

Desire smiled mockingly. “Yes, I wouldn’t want to cross you again, Dream.”

Satisfied, Dream released his sibling and walked away, but before he left, Desire called out, “She has your eyes, brother.”

Dream halted for a moment and then left the Threshold.

#batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne #dc fanfic #dc comics #dc universe #fanfic #dc batman #batman fanfiction #john constantine #justice league dark

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 months ago

Text

Playing Soldier: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: With your father off to serve the Continental Army, you've taken up the mantle of protector for your family - so when redcoats arrive on your property looking for him, you stand your ground. Sure, this ends in your arrest as a prisoner of war, but you don't plan on making it easy for them.

Until, of course, your interrogation is co-opted by Colonel William Tavington - the cruel, brutal Butcher of the Continentals.

Unfortunately for you, he's also the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

Words: 5500

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, William Tavington is Not Nice

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: THIS IS CO-WRITTEN WITH MY GORGEOUS PERFECT LOVE, @bastillia.

If you made it through, thank you for reading this first chapter to a mini-story about a villain from a film that's 24 years old. No better way to celebrate Fourth of July than fantasizing about fucking a British soldier!

Bastillia and myself are currently in a Jason Isaacs phase and we desperately need him and in particular William Tavington. So! Here you go. <3

Love y'all so so much!

Grace found you in your father’s rocking chair, dressed in his clothes. Taking a seat on the porch bench next to you, she let her head fall back, her gaze following the ceiling. When you didn’t speak, she sucked in air through her nose and sighed.

“Are you going to sit out here all night again?”

You shrugged, and she nudged you.

“You and one gun won’t stand much of a chance against a bunch of redcoats.”

You frowned, glancing from the pistol in your lap to the dirt path cutting across the grassy field in front of you. Evening’s claws crept across the village, sank into the horizon. Since the fall of Charleston to the British, darkness carried an hourglass with it, the bottom growing heavier every night. Jaw stiff, your eyes followed a firefly as it drifted and winked out like an ember over the grass.

“You would rather I let them burn our home?”

Grace sighed again. “They won’t burn our home.”

You turned on her. “Won’t they? Mrs. Miller has a cousin outside of Charleston. Told me they fired her barn.”

“That’s one person.”

“Mr. Allen said his brother told him about a whole town down the way from Camden they found burned to the ground.”

Grace snorted. “Ah, yes, Mr. Allen, our esteemed purveyor of truths.”

“Grace. If…” You gripped the barrel of the pistol, your mouth drawing tight. She didn’t know, and it had to remain that way. There was no ‘if’ to your father’s return in her mind. He’d left the truth behind his departure only with you. “I won’t let father come home to a pile of ash.”

A family of crickets swelled in song. Grace shifted closer to you. “You would rather I let him come home to your grave?”

You looked at her. Seeing her expression, a small part of you softened. She wasn’t wrong to worry. Your eyes ached, your head heavy from the lack of sleep. But even when you decided to lie down, your mind refused to release you to rest. Your shift as sentinel would end when your father returned home. With a sigh, you slumped back. The chair eked back and forth on the planks, the drumbeat of your station.

“Let’s talk about something else,” you said. “Nathaniel’s been paying you quite a bit of attention, hasn’t he?”

Grace stiffened, battling a grin. “Yes, he has.” She folded her hands in her lap, her cheeks reddening. “Why?”

A laugh rumbled in your throat. You knew it. “What do you think about him?”

She pinched her lips between her teeth. “Well, he’s very sweet. Very kind. He always has been, you know the Joneses, they’re such good people.” Her shoulders melted into the bench. “He’s been walking with me after church. Just through the town. We look at the flowers.” She sighed, finally letting herself smile, her gaze drifting until her eyes hesitantly found yours. “What do you think about him?”

“Me?” you replied, as if you didn’t know the question was coming. “I don’t know him that well.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. What have you noticed about him?”

You hummed in thought. Nathaniel Jones.

“Well…” His jawline was seldom free of razor wounds. “Probably a little clumsy.” The grooves in his fingers were always tread with dirt, the collar of his shirt tanned by sweat. His hands had stained almost every page of his Bible. “Not sure if he ever washes without needing a reminder.” He always showed up to church with at least one piece of tack fastened wrong on his horse. His mouth would mimic reading aloud during service, but his eyes would be trained on the floor. “And I don’t think he’s very bright.”

“Really.” Grace studied you. “Mrs. Jones taught all of those boys, though.”

“Doesn’t mean they all have the same capacity to learn,” you mumbled. But before Grace could protest, you shrugged. “Kind is good, though.” You offered a small grin. “Kind is very good.”

With a laugh of relief from Grace, the two of you lapsed into comfortable silence, basking in cricket song. The rocking chair squeaked back, forth, back, forth. It squeaked in tempo with your heart, rumbling, louder, a vibration skittering through your toes. Deeper, deeper it grew, staccato in its cadence, a pounding that rocked your porch.

It wasn’t until Grace turned to look at you, her eyes shimmering in starlight, that you realized it wasn’t your heart at all. Torches floated over your lawn and up the dirt path, bobbing in rhythm with horse hooves. A dozen of them, each illuminating a soldier in a crimson jacket.

Your throat thickened. Your stomach tightened. You squeezed the handle of your father’s pistol. Beside you, Grace whispered your name.

“Quiet,” you said. “Just get behind me.”

You leapt to your feet, crossing over the top step of your porch to lean against one of the wooden columns, gun held slack but unconcealed at your side. The officer in front—a white-wigged man with a sword on his hip—held his fist in the air. Behind him, the squad stalled to a stop, dust swirling in the halos of light.

Swallowing, you stuck your chin toward the sky, hoping that your father’s farm boots made you a little bit taller, that the breadth of his shirt made your shoulders even a little bit wider. The officer in front dismounted his horse and waved his hand, and a soldier behind him joined him on the ground. Together, they marched toward your home.

“Officers,” you said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

At the foot of the stairs, the inferior officer looked between you and Grace. His brow furrowed, he leaned toward the ear of his superior. “No record of a son according to our intel, sir.”

You frowned, but didn’t correct him. Being mistaken for a man had its benefits in this situation.

The superior officer scrutinized you, hairline to hips, his lips screwing in thought. Whatever he was considering, he didn’t say it—instead, he cleared his throat and pulled a piece of parchment from one of the pouches on his hip.

“Good evening,” he began, his nose wrinkling as he glanced at you and Grace. “You may call me Sergeant Dalton, this is Corporal Bancroft. Is this the home of Michael…” His eyes narrowed as he tried to read the last name. But you didn’t care to wait.

“Yes,” you said. “This is his home. We’re his children.” You stared between them. “Is that all? My sister needs to be getting to bed soon.”

Dalton returned the parchment, his hands meeting behind his back. “You’re aware your father is an officer in the Continental Army?”

Your heart—it was definitely your heart, this time—thumped in your temple. This was the part you didn’t want Grace knowing about. The soldiers waited, studying your face. You needed to say something. Words died on your tongue.

“What?” Grace stepped forward, peering around you. “No, he’s not. He’s been away—”

“Grace, be quiet,” you hissed.

But she’d already caught the interest of Dalton. “Would you like to continue, young miss?” He advanced a step toward you both, and your finger slipped into the pistol’s trigger well. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to submit to questioning regarding your father’s whereabouts?” He glimpsed your hold on the gun. “Come along, quietly, and you may very well be pardoned by His Majesty’s army.”

You shook your head. “Just take me. She doesn’t know anything.”

Grace whispered your name, grabbed your hand, and proceeded to undermine you. “No,” she said. “Take me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Dammit, Grace—”

“That’s enough.” Dalton looked at you, then at Grace, then at Bancroft. “Arrest them both.”

---

In the tent, the air was thick with breath and sweat. Candles swayed in the center, their lambent glow hovering on the walls, deepening every shadow. Voices filtered in from outside, so low that they clogged together through the canvas. Sharper was the ache where your bindings had begun to bite your wrists to rawness. Louder the pulse in your own eardrums, and the sniffled prayers coming from the young man bound beside you.

Twisting your wrists sent a knife of clarity to your brain. You bit back a hiss—you needed to think.

By your estimation, they’d brought you between two and five miles beyond the outskirts of town. But between the darkness and the burlap sack which had been so benevolently foisted upon your head for the entire wagon ride here, it was impossible to say for sure.

More alarmingly, you’d lost track of Grace somewhere in the weave of shoves and barked commands. When the tents had been erected, you’d been thrown in with the men—Elijah Smith, Adam Brown, and Nathaniel Jones, as fate would have it. Whether this was somehow a genuine mistake even after your thorough handling by the soldiers, or some drawn-out taunt to your choice of attire, you also had no idea.

Each unknown seemed to hook itself upon a tender sinew in your mind, and stretch it taut. You tried shaking your head, but that only set off a ringing in your ears.

Beside you, Nathaniel sobbed out another prayer. Your teeth ground together.

Craven would have to be added among the placards you’d already tacked to his character, you decided.

Outside, hooves thundered again. As they slowed, one pulled ahead of the others and into the heart of the camp. Your ears pricked. There was an unevenness to its gait, the rattle of a bit shank as the horse threw its head before slowing to a halt several yards away. Voices rose and hushed, soldiers shuffling. A distant chorus of acknowledgement to a new arrival.

“Colonel, sir,” said one that sounded like Dalton. “The Dragoons weren’t—I wasn’t aware you’d be arriving.”

“Another detail among many which seem to slip your awareness, Dalton,” said the voice belonging to this colonel, whoever he was. “The rebels, then. What have we learned?”

Dalton was silent for a moment. “Well… Nothing yet, s—”

“Nothing.”

“We haven’t begun the interrogations, sir.”

Boots struck the ground. As his horse was led away, the colonel dusted his coat twice. And, with the manner of someone chiding a forgetful child, said: “Well, no time like the present, is there, Sergeant?”

There was movement, grass rustling, canvas flapping. You stuck out your neck as if this would help you hear—all it managed to do was strain your collarbones. Beside you, Nathaniel was still sniveling, sorry for himself and his whole family, as if now was the time to be crying. Closing your eyes, you caught the frayed wisps of voices, drowned by the sound of his sobs.

“Nathaniel,” you murmured. When he didn’t respond, you kicked his boot. "Nathaniel.”

He snorted up snot. “What? Who are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s me. Grace’s sister.”

“Grace’s—” He inventoried your outfit. “Dear God. I didn’t recognize you. Is that why you’re in here with…” His eyes gained focus through his tears. “If you’re in here, where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” You tilted your head toward the origin of the other voices. “Be quiet.”

Nathaniel choked and nodded, his nose still leaking, his face ruddy. You caught a sigh in your chest and sat straight, listening for intakes of breath, stammers, the scrape of metal, the chime of glass, anything that would give you insight.

The colonel’s voice first, dipping in and out of your perception. “All of you have… Captain Michael…”

You swallowed. This was about your father. But he should be with the Continentals up near Virginia by now.

“... his crimes against the King’s army… may be spared and released.”

Spared and released? Civilians weren’t targets, torture wasn’t permitted, you had nothing to fear from soldiers who would be your future brethren—this was according to the Loyalists in your village, anyway. Recent reports sparked doubt in their confidence. This colonel concealing threats stoked it further.

God, you hoped Grace wasn’t in that tent.

Silence. The candles wavered under the sodden air. One, two, three steps in the grass. You closed your eyes.

“Very well.” The click of a pistol.

Your breath stalled.

“Wait! Don’t—don’t…”

Grace. Grace was in that tent. Your consciousness slipped with a skip of your heart, but you sucked in air, fighting the ring in your ears. If you were going to help her, you needed to be alert.

“Is—is that Grace?” said Nathaniel.

You kicked his boot again.

“I’ll tell you everything I know. Michael is my father.” Grace’s voice was tight, trembling. “But he’s—you have the wrong idea about him, sir. Or the wrong man entirely. He’s not a soldier in the Continental Army, he’s been away visiting our grandmother in Pennsylvania.”

“No,” you whispered. “No, Grace, no…”

“How very interesting,” came the colonel’s even reply.

A gunshot split the night.

All three men beside you flinched at once, and your bones flashed to ice. When the tin-whistle screech died in your ears, someone outside was screaming. Another was pleading.

“No! No, no…” It was Grace’s voice. Relief hit like opium. She was sobbing, incoherent between retches and sputterings of "you killed her,” and “oh, God, no, please no…”

You swallowed bile. Nathaniel resumed his prayers with fervor, now rocking back and forth. Elijah joined him.

“Colonel Tavington, I must protest,” came Dalton’s voice through the chorus of grief, before dropping lower. “... cannot abide… protocol… my jurisdiction—”

“Fortunately for you,” the colonel—Tavington—said, “these prisoners are no longer under your jurisdiction. They are under mine. But do feel free to stand by, Dalton, if you’ve the stomach for it. Perhaps you and your men could benefit from a demonstration, hm?”

“Sir,” was the only acknowledgment Dalton offered.

“Tavington,” said Adam, looking at Nathaniel and Elijah. “William Tavington? The Butcher?”

Elijah met his gaze and nodded without stopping prayer.

Your father had never mentioned any Butcher, but tonight was giving you plenty of context. Bracing against needles of panic, you closed your eyes, forcing your breathing to slow. Wails wracked Grace, and your chest squeezed. She had never seen death. Perhaps naively, you had hoped to keep it that way.

A gasp rippled through the women, and then Tavington spoke again.

“Now, now, darling girl. Shall we try this once more? Perhaps without lying.” The scrape of a ramrod resounded, then another click.

“I’m not lying” The tone of her utter despair tightened your throat. “I—I promise, that’s the truth. You can ask my sister. She—”

“Which of you is her sister?”

“I…” Silence. “She’s not in this tent. I don’t know where she is. But you arrested both of us, sir, she’s around here somewhere!” Another whimper crawled its way out of her. “There’s no need for anyone to die, please.”

You chewed your lip. You’d had enough. “Colonel!” you called out. “Leave her alone. I’m in here.”

“Stupid girl,” growled Elijah, “you’ll doom us.”

Ignoring him, you sat up straighter and willed your nerves to harden. Grace cried out your name, but was cut off with a yelp as leather cracked against skin. Fury roared within you.

Through the hot surge of blood, you heard footsteps marching toward the opening to your tent. Whoever this Butcher was, you’d halfway convinced yourself you’d spit in his face. But you needed to play it smarter than that, needed to keep Grace safe. With what little information you gathered, you at least knew he was a man, and from what you knew about men, they were easily swayed with a bit of physical encouragement.

With the shards of a plan coalescing, you shifted up onto your knees and thrashed your shoulders. Pain leapt from your wrists up your arms, but the movement had the intended effect—the front laces of your shirt slackened, the collar slipping open until it threatened to drape off of one shoulder. Pulse thundering, you settled back onto your heels. Exposed. Ready to bare your throat to the enemy.

Boots came to a halt outside. Then the entrance peeled open, and the Butcher stalked through.

You could make out little more than his silhouette. Tall and broad, head bowed to accommodate the tent’s low threshold. Then he straightened, took a step forward, and another, until candlelight thawed the shadows from his face. And as it did, the searing core of your anger surged and flashed to mist.

He was disarmingly handsome. High cheekbones framed a face carved from cruel marble. His eyes, alive like blue signal fires, penetrated the dimness from beneath the bastion of his brow. Peering down a curved nose, he struck a hawklike poise, with shoulders squared and hands clasped behind his back. His long, dark hair was combed back into a bond at the base of his skull. Immaculate, apart from a single errant strand that drifted down to brush his jaw. Even beneath an ink wash of darkness, you devoured his shape.

And, against every rational instinct left thrashing for air—found him exquisite.

A prickling sensation rose under your skin, spread hot across your bare collarbones and up your neck. You bolted your eyes to the floor, shifted on your knees. His presence stole even more air from the tent than you’d thought was possible. With a pang of frustration, you blinked hard once. If you were to have any chance of surviving this encounter, if Grace were to have any chance, you needed to pull yourself together. Now.

One slow, controlled breath flowed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You dared to glance up again.

The colonel’s head swung down the line of men, surveying his prisoners as a wolf might a flock. And then his eyes landed upon you.

“The sister,” he said, advancing. “Playing soldier with the men.” He clucked his tongue. “Quaint.” Your teeth ground in your skull, but words were not as forthcoming as you’d hoped when you’d shouted his summons into the night. The Butcher moved closer. “Is your father so thoughtless, leaving his daughters vulnerable while he dies in war?”

“My father,” you began, “trusts me to take care of the family while he’s away.”

Tavington’s eyebrow cocked. “You’ve done a wonderful job, then, haven’t you?”

The venom his beauty had diluted was gathering on your tongue again. With effort, you swallowed it. Stick to the plan. Eyebrows pinching together, you made a show of slouching in capitulation to his jabs. You then conjured a pained whine and wiggled in your restraints, hoping your shirt would expose more of your clavicle, that he’d be able to see the sway of your breasts when you moved.

The colonel frowned, but did not drop his gaze. “Something the matter?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You pulled breath through your voice, fluttered your lashes. The focus required not to crumble under the frigidity of his gaze could have earned you regional acclaim. “These restraints are just so tight.” You wrested your shoulders back and forth as if to demonstrate, gasping from the very real pain that screamed in your wrists. “Perhaps you could loosen them just a little…”

Next to you, you felt Nathaniel watching, caught from the corner of your sight his mouth agape in horror. The realization irritated you. What had he done for Grace other than whimper like a beaten dog for God’s help? Yet another strike against him.

He wasn’t important. Bargaining for Grace’s safety was.

Meanwhile, Tavington had tracked your movement, his expression indecipherable. Your palms sweat in fear you’d managed to find the one man impervious to the temptation of sex.

“Poor dear.” He crossed behind you, and you stifled a sigh of relief.

Strong hands slid down your forearms and found the bindings on your wrists. The leather warmed your skin, his breath skimmed your nape. Goosebumps raced over you along with an undeniable desire to shiver, but you held your breath, fighting it off. Instead, you tipped your head to the side, exposing the bare skin of your shoulder to his view, along with the intriguing pocket of darkness that had formed down the front of your shirt, between your breasts.

Tavington paused. Your breath stalled. With an unforgiving grip on the ropes, he undid the knot—and then yanked it tighter. The fiber gouged your flesh, air fleeing your chest.

He stood and wedged the sole of his boot along your spine, shoving you forward. You smacked the dirt with a cough.

Your cheeks burned. So you had managed to find this previously-assumed-mythical man. Fine. If your body wasn’t going to work, you would find an alternative strategy.

“Perhaps that may help you focus less on squirming and more on the task at hand.” Tavington’s boots crossed your vision, shiny enough that you could almost glimpse your own pathetic reflection. With a grunt, you twisted to glare up at him. He was watching you like a child might watch ants under a magnifying glass on a sunny afternoon. “I’m going to show you a map. You’re going to show me where we can find your father. And if your sister gives me the same answer, you both may leave with your lives.”

Hoping the ground would yield a new perspective, you studied him. The horse he arrived on—it’d had a lame gait. Then there was his hair—a single thread of it kissing his jawline. His hands were concealed, his jacket and boots impeccable. But his stock-tie—the knot had been pulled slack, one tail creeping from beneath his collar.

There was so little to gamble with. But you had to try your luck anyway.

You snorted, using your shoulder as leverage to hoist yourself back onto your heels. “That will prove fruitless for you. She doesn’t know where he is.” You leveled him with your stare. His own bore into you, almost hollowed you. “My father only entrusted me with that knowledge.”

Tavington stepped forward. “A mistake on his part, perhaps, given the situation you find yourself in now.”

“No,” you said. “I think he had the right idea.”

A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk curled his mouth. “Then you’ll have no problem telling me exactly where he can be found.” He exhaled, the next words drawn out as if your lives were an inconvenient tedium. “Or you and everyone in this tent will suffer until you do.”

Nathaniel quailed. You jut out your chin.

“Do your worst.”

Tavington’s lip twitched. He snatched his pistol from its holster.

“You won’t kill me!” you spat. “You need me. Or you will fail.” Your voice was tight.

Tavington regarded you coolly from over the pistol’s frizzen. That moment’s silence was admission enough—a mote of triumph surged within you.

“Terribly sure of yourself.” As stony as his expression remained, you caught a certain bile now laced through his tone. “Pity,” he tutted, moving forward to rest the barrel between your brows. “To think such a pale imitation of bravery could save you.”

“It’s your risk to take,” you spat out, heart drumming your chest.

Something flashed across his expression. Seizing your chance, you held his gaze and pressed your forehead into the gun barrel.

“No cavalryman of honor rides his horse to lameness.” Fear bubbled in your throat, but you swallowed it. “Look at you, Colonel. Your hair, your stock-tie—utterly disheveled. One might think you rushed here. One might even think you need something. Desperately. But you won’t get it if you kill me.” You flicked your eyes toward the other tent. “And if you hurt Grace, you’ll have to, because I promise that if you lay another finger on her, you will leave here with nothing.”

The tent was silent. Tavington dropped to a crouch before you and pressed the pistol under your chin. The barrel moved, guiding your head side to side as he examined your face. You swallowed, heat creeping onto your neck with the intensity of his attention. He was reading you, calculating his next move. You followed the single strand of his hair. You wondered how it felt against his skin.

”Tell me,” he murmured, his breath brushing your nose, “upon which observation I struck you as a man of honor.”

Tavington stood, unsheathed his sword, and in one swift movement, sliced Elijah across the throat. A sheet of blood draped down his chest. Your eyes widened. Adam and Nathaniel screamed. The sword gored Adam’s neck, silencing him, and with its blade still lodged there, Tavington raised his pistol, cocked the hammer, and blew a bullet right through Nathaniel’s head.

The blast flayed your senses to a single tone pealing through your skull. When the world reformed, something warm and slick had smattered your face. You smelled iron.

You heard Grace shout your name, ripped through with terror, and as you heaved a breath to reply, Tavington wrenched the sword from Adam’s flesh and trained it against your windpipe. Adam’s body joined the rest, the dirt rusting with their blood.

“Ah, ah,” Tavington said, eyes sparkling with glee. “Best if sister dearest thinks you’re dead. Kinder that way, don’t you think? At least, of course, until we find out if you have anything of value to offer.”

Dalton charged into the tent and cursed. He gestured toward the bodies still soaking the ground. “Colonel, please,” he said. “I must insist. I won’t know how to explain all of this to the General.”

Tavington turned toward him, his excitement waning. “How unfortunate for you.”

“I—I know, sir. But please. Let us just take the rest of these women to Charleston. We can handle this there.”

Crickets hummed in unison again. Tavington looked back at you. The terrible thrill flickered alive again.

“Take them, then,” he said, regarding you like a cougar would regard a lamb. “But leave this one with me.”

The sergeant nodded. “Uh, yes. Yes, Colonel.”

He disappeared again. Orders echoed to round up the women and get them on carts to Charleston. From the other tent, you caught Grace’s horrified, desperate tears. Everything inside you was bursting to call out to her, to soothe her despair. But Tavington’s blade prodded your throat. One noise could send it through.

You waited like that with him until the carts creaked off into the night. The bodies around you settled into death, their final breaths a gurgled epode to the dirt. It was impossible to stop the tears of anger that stung the corners of your eyes. Worse still, there was no way to hide them. No move you could make that wouldn’t add you to the litter of cooling corpses. All you could do with your last scrap of dignity was hold the Butcher’s stare.

A smirk flashed over his face. Your throat thickened.

“Now, there’s an obedient little soldier, hm?”

You held your breath, cheeks hot with humiliation or agitation or something altogether unfamiliar. God, what a bastard. If only you’d had your gun on you; you would’ve been happy to demonstrate just how much of a soldier you could be.

Tavington watched you, checking your compliance as if you were his dog in training. The closer he moved, the greater the heat in your chest, the thinner the air waned. His attention in any other scenario would've felt flattering—he followed every line, every curve of your body, eyes scouring your skin like chipped timber—only he sought the evidence of your deceit, anxious for an excuse to pile you on top of his casualties.

In any other scenario, the something altogether unfamiliar would've been simpler to define. In any other scenario, you might have wanted him closer.

Tavington raised a brow. Whatever he was searching for, he didn’t find it—or the weight of your information while alive was greater than his desire for your death.

He lowered the blade. You exhaled.

“Your father is a fugitive. Tell me where I can find him,” he said quietly, jaw tight. “And your sister may fare well in her trial for treason.”

Your heart pounded in your throat, in your temples. You had no idea where your father might have headed, and you didn’t have any intention of handing that information to this monster, regardless. But you first needed to survive him. The rest would come later.

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “If you show me on a map where he escaped from, I can show you the path he likely followed.”

Tavington considered you for a moment, then offered a mirthless grin. “I advise you not to move.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding outside. Breath trembled through you, your eyes jumping around the tent. They’d stripped it of anything potentially useful—no knives, swords, guns, not even a damn rasp or a pair of nippers for the horses.

“Colonel Tavington, sir,” came a voice from outside.

“Do I appear at liberty, Bancroft?”

“Well, no—”

“Then it can wait.”

“But sir, it’s—”

“As you were.”

“It’s correspondence from General Cornwallis, sir.”

Silence. Your head cocked. He was unmoored. And behind you, candles crackled dutifully.

If you had any stitch of time to take at all, it would be now.

Your limbs moved autonomously. You rolled onto your side, working your bound hands beneath your thighs, tucking your legs to your chest. Wincing at the strain in your wrists, you forced them all the way around your legs. Now in an awkward quadrupedal position, you turned and focused on the candles. With a dizzying level of concentration, you managed to suppress the cries of pain as you dragged yourself forward.

Your wrists throbbed. Numbness pricked your fingertips. Your lungs screamed for air. None of it mattered. Balancing on your heels once more, you wedged your shirt collar between your teeth. Then you reached up and held your wrists over the flame.

Pain wasn't immediate. First there was only heat. Heat, and the acrid taste of your own heartbeat in your mouth. The fibers between your wrists frayed, dissolving like sugar upon the little tongue of flame. And then, it began to bite.

If you’d wanted to shout before, it had been nothing compared to this. Everything inside you lurched with the singular need to snatch your wrists from the flame, cradle them to your chest. Your teeth tore into linen. Your eyes squeezed shut.

Blisters bubbled to life on your flesh, agony lodging in your throat. Vision blanching, you could feel every muscle shake violently as they went to war with your will.

Just as surrender mapped a cannonfire course down your arms, the fiber snapped and your wrists sprang apart. You collapsed to your knees and elbows, wrangling the sobs that clawed your chest, blinking against the cotton fog that threatened to blanket your senses.

Move. You need to move.

You spared one glance back toward the tent entrance before prying a candle from its pricket and shambling for the lip of the tent. As you flattened yourself to slide under, you caught the vacant stare of Nathaniel Jones. Behind him, the shapes of the other two men could have been cloth-covered stone. A lump wedged in your throat, which you swallowed with force.

Was it regret? Maybe. Pity? Assuredly. Either way, all you could do now was slip beneath the edge of your canvas prison and light them a pyre. You left the candle on its side, the flame licking at a piece of rope rigging. And you ran.

Silhouetted against the summer night sky, you could just make out a treeline. That would be your haven, if only you could make it. Your feet attacked the uneven ground, somehow keeping you upright. You looked back just in time to see the tent erupt in flame, to hear the bellowing of redcoats and screeching of their horses.

The fire’s ghost haunted your skin. Pain hammered up your shoulders, and as you made your way into the forest, you bit your tongue to silence a burgeoning whimper. Familiarity with the terrain was your advantage, but you needed silence to make full use of it.

You leapt to avoid leaving footprints and snapping branches and dropped against a tree. The tent’s blaze pulsed in your periphery. Drawing a slow, long breath, a familiar rhythm rumbled close, closer. Rumbled, then pounded and clanked in an awkward, head-tossing gallop.

Tavington’s horse.

You froze, sunk to the ground, spying the torch that danced with the horse’s gait and watched as it met the treeline, spilled light on the leaves. It tracked through the forest, a flame aching to swallow a moth. The light’s edge nearly skimmed your toes.

Tavington growled—a deep, furious grind in his chest—and tore off down the perimeter.

When you were certain he’d gone, you stood and kept moving, pressing your wrists together to will the pain away. You’d find somewhere to hide. You’d wait them out tonight.

Tomorrow, you’d find Grace.

#william tavington #colonel tavington #colonel william tavington #the patriot #yeah so we wrote something and it's about a guy from a movie about the revolutionary war that came out in the year 2000 #however #this guy is EXTREMELY FUCKING HOT #so... we're correct #fanfiction problems #playing soldier

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nyx-is-hair-goals · 2 months ago

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H2 predictions: Jason, Ananke, Olympians

OKAY SO. I have a bunch of theories about what will happen in Hades 2 and I wanted to get them written down before the next update! Caveat: I don't think any of this is definite and I'm not going to throw a fit if I'm wrong; I just really enjoy this kind of theorising and extrapolating, and I figured other people might enjoy reading it too.

SOME SPOILERS FOR HADES 2 BELOW - mostly just which NPCs already exist in the world and the structure of the game . . . . .

I'm expecting two more levels - one that's the ascent up the mountain, and one that's up at the top of it. This would be a satisfying mirror to the structure of the path down to the Underworld. I have theories about the next Guardian(s), and how the other Olympian gods will show up.

GUARDIAN THEORY 1: Jason (of the Argonauts) will be a Guardian on the upwards path - probably of the 'ascent up the mountain' section, at the head of Chronos' invasion. Here's why I think this:

We know that with the underworld's gates open, there are shades with names and memories who are wandering free and able to physically impact the world (e.g. Icarus). So it'd make sense that Chronos could conscript the shades of heroes into his army as well as the more zombie-like shades that we've fought on the ships.

He's got a lot of reason to dislike witches and the gods, and therefore side against Olympus and Melinoe/Hecate. It was Aphrodite and Hera who arranged his relationship with Medea, and that did not end well. Medea was the demi-goddess and witch who helped him out of various scrapes on his quest, but then when he abandoned her, she killed their children and Jason's new wife, then fled in Helios' chariot with divine approval, while Jason lost his favour with the gods for betraying Medea. (Side note: Helios is not an Olympian god, but he's brother to Selene and Eos, who are both aligned with Melinoe in the game's narrative - might end up being relevant? Probably too much of a deep cut though.)

He's heavily associated with the Golden Fleece, which is a thematic/aesthetic link to Chronos and his new Golden Age.

He's best-known for his adventures on the ship Argo, which both a) means he'd make sense as a character to choose for heading up the fleet across the Rift of Thessaly, and b) positions him as a foil to Odysseus. Like Odysseus, Jason met Circe and accepted hospitality from her; like Odysseus, Jason encountered the Sirens on his long voyage.

He's got a lot of history with Medea AND Heracles, tying him in neatly with the other NPCs we've met on the surface. Medea hasn't (afaik) mentioned Jason at all in her dialogue (and in fact very much avoided the question when Melinoe asked if she had a family), but her Keepsake is a Blackened Fleece, which is a clear reference to her part in Jason's adventures. Heracles travelled with them both on the Argo, and seemingly had a somewhat antagonistic relationship with Jason. (Side note: Jason also has history with Orpheus, who we haven't seen at all yet in this game - he wasn't in any of the flashback sequences and so doesn't seem to be a prisoner of time like much of the House of Hades. Maybe he'll show up as an unwilling companion to Jason? Not super likely, but an outside chance!)

Having an asshole Greek hero as the Guardian of the third level is a nice parallel to Theseus in the original game

OLYMPIANS THEORY:

We know that we're getting Athena, Ares, and Dionysus in some form. From in-game dialogue, we know that Athena and Ares are busy with the war effort, while Dionysus is not actively participating. I suspect they will not be giving boons in the way that the other Olympians are; I think they'll be giving boons like Artemis and Hades are, i.e. one-off roaming character events or chambers with the wing sigil.

(Because adding three new full sets of boons to the existing suite would be A Lot in terms of balance; because it'd involve expanding a bunch of the Fated List prophecies and making people in EA complete the new version of them [not impossible but probably something they'd prefer to avoid]; and - most importantly - because it's thematically appropriate!)

I think Dionysus is almost certainly going to be in a wing-sigil chamber - we know he isn't participating actively in the war against Chronos because he finds it too depressing, so it makes sense to me that he might be in a chamber where he's managed to carve out some space for fun and festivity. This might be in the 'ascent' level or the 'mountaintop' level - the latter feels a little more likely. I think he'll be offering boons related to healing and damage resistance - I'd expect to see things like High Tolerance, Positive Attitude, After Party, and Premium Vintage. If there's a version of Strong Drink, I'd expect the damage bonus to be buffed, as if he's a chamber NPC in the third section of the game then there are way fewer opportunities to use it. I think there's an outside chance that he offers something like a cast add-on which replicates Festive Fog and/or Hangover, stunning enemies who walk in and/or doing DOTs, but in general I don't expect status curses to come from gods who can only give you one boon per run.

Ares is more likely to be a wandering NPC, probably in the style of Hercules or Nemesis, and probably in the 'ascent' level - he's out there in the thick of the battle, having a great time drenched in the blood of his enemies, and I think there'll be some kind of element where you need to impress him with how good at violence you are in order to get any benefits from him. I think he'll give out boons buffing damage (e.g. Battle Rage, Urge to Kill) and maybe something which makes a Blade Rift at the centre of your cast.

Athena I could go either way on - I initially theorised that she'd be a wandering NPC who functions very similarly to Artemis, showing up in the middle of a fight and offering you help during it and then a single boon. However, as the goddess of TACTICAL warfare rather than just war, I could also see her being in a 'war room' chamber in the topmost level where she's directing and strategising.

But either way, I think that having one boon-dispensing chamber god in the topmost level would be a nice parallel to having Hades in Tartarus, and it seems super likely that it'll be either Athena or Dionysus.

Oh, I also think there'll be some kind of interaction/resolution happening between Athena and Arachne, where you mediate some kind of understanding between them (or at least help them both to move on). Where the first Hades game had a lot of reuniting lovers (Orpheus/Eurydice, Achilles/Patroclus, Hades/Persephone), a theme of Hades II seems to be moving on from relationships and dynamics that weren't good for you or otherwise leaving things in the past (Echo/Narcissus, Odysseus/his family, Odysseus/Circe, Odysseus/Scylla…)

So, that's the gods theorising. I'm sure I'm not the first person to posit most of this stuff, but honestly, that's just a sign SuperGiant are good at foreshadowing.

GUARDIAN THEORY 2: My co-conspirator NibblyCultist suggests that the final Guardian of the Olympus path will drop 'Entropy' (the second component in the 'Dissolution of Time' incantation, which also requires Zodiac Sand from Chronos) - and that this might be dropped by Ananke.

In the mythology, Ananke is the sister/lover of Chronos, and the personification of inevitability, compulsion, and necessity - which feels appropriate to a character who drops 'Entropy'. The details of this theory will, by necessity (pun intended), be a lot vaguer in terms of who Ananke might be in relation to Chronos, because we know that SuperGiant have made a lot of tweaks to the geneology of the gods and titans in order to make everything less incestuous, and there's been no mentioned version of Ananke in the games as far as I can tell. But whether sister, lover, or neither, Ananke is someone who would make sense to be aligned with Chronos.

In some traditions, Ananke is the mother of the Three Fates and has an amount of authority over them. While we know that 'our' version of the Three Fates are the daughters of Nyx, I wonder if Ananke might be in some way the captor of the Three Fates, and Melinoe needs to defeat her in order to rescue them? Maybe defeating Jason would be just breaking the siege on Olympus, and the next location is in fact Melinoe going somewhere else entirely in order to save the three fates? Or perhaps it's another 'path' entirely that becomes accessible after you defeat both the upward and downward routes - maybe via the Pitch-Black Stone, or otherwise through the power of the Crossroads.

If we see Ananke, she'll probably be portrayed as a Titaness, even though she's technically not described as one, she's just the primordial personification of inevitability. (How is it possible that she's not a Titan despite being Chronos' sister? Well, there's an extremely long-standing conflation between Chronos (the primordial personification of Time) and Cronus (the scythe-bearing Titan who ruled over the Golden Age until being defeated by his Olympian progeny and thrown into Tartarus) - this has been happening since classical antiquity and is why 'Father Time' is shown with a scythe.) This would track with SuperGiant's rendering of Hecate and Selene as Titanesses - it seems to be the category used for pre-Olympian / primordial / chthonic gods who aren't part of the Chaos/Nyx family tree.

I realise we've had no foreshadowing for Ananke, and if we were to assume a) the final boss of the Olympus path is a Titan and b) it's someone who has been foreshadowed, then the more obvious candidate would be Hyperion (in SG's setting, the father of Demeter, Hestia, and Hera). He's been mentioned a few times as another Titan who was put down by his Olympian children. But also, I think it's less thematically interesting / satisfying. With having a shiny golden Titan at the lowest point of the underworld, a darker and scarier Titaness at the highest point of the Olympus path feels pleasingly balanced, in terms of the paths mirroring each other. And that link to the Fates feels compelling.

I DEFINITELY HAVE MORE THOUGHTS BUT ALSO I'VE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR HOURS AND MY BRAIN IS TIRED AND THESE WERE THE MAIN BIG THINGS SOOOOOOO GONNA POST THIS NOW I GUESS

#hades supergiant #hades game #hades 2 #jason and the argonauts #greek gods #athena #dionysus #ares #melinoe #hades 2 spoilers #hades ii #hades ii spoilers #my thoughts

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