#It's supposed to be comforting but I don't know if that part comes across LMFAO

[jankwritten]

JASICO WEEK DAY 3: Angst/Comfort

CW: major character death, grief

Nico runs his brush over the lettering on the face of the headstone, delicate despite the dirt worked into the cracks. He should be harder with it, he knows -  it’s not like he’ll be able to break it. The headstone is too new for that, not worn down with age like the others in the cemetery. The dirt around the grave is so fresh, weeds haven’t even begun to grow over it, not that Nico would let them. He’s gotten good at weeding. Pruning flowers. Anything, to take care of this spot. 

Jason Grace, the headstone reads. Beneath that, his rank, and years of service. The date he died. 

Nico brushes his thumb over the curves which mark Jason as seventeen on his day of death. One of the eldest in the graveyard. 

Back when he first heard, when Nico first felt the impact of Jason’s death like a saw blade through his gut, Nico couldn’t come visit the grave at all. Every reminder of Jason being gone was too much, the weight of loss sitting in him in a way Nico hadn’t felt since he was ten years old. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his grief, except to cry, and cry, and cry. 

He’s glad to be past that stage. His heart still aches, every day is still hard, but Nico can breathe through it, now. He can clean the gravestone, and talk to Jason even if Jason doesn’t talk back. He can make sure this site is as respected as the man it honors. 

Nico adjusts the flowers Hazel brought last night, a bouquet of blue and purple and white. Jason would think they’re pretty. The smell would make him sneeze. 

His favorite color was yellow, though. Nobody ever brings Jason yellow flowers. Always blue, like his eyes, like the sky, like his father. 

Daffodils. Nico will have to bring him some daffodils tomorrow. And irises, and carnations. Maybe Persephone will help him put together a bouquet. She always had a soft spot for Jason, not that she’d ever admit to liking one of Nico’s friends. Whenever Nico would talk about Jason with her, she would listen with this look on her face, like Nico was saying the most interesting things. It felt good to know someone appreciated Jason in the same way Nico did. 

Maybe not the same way. But as close as someone else could get. 

“It’s been a good day today,” Nico says. He runs the brush over the crown of the stone again, gentle as before. “Things have been slow. Father hasn’t given me as many jobs this week, and there’s finally been a lull in attacks near the borders. Hazel and Frank are introducing a new bill to the senate tomorrow, which…well, I’ll tell you how it goes, then. I don’t want to jinx it for them.” 

A breeze blows through the valley. Nico leans back, tilts his chin up into it. 

He closes his eyes. He can almost imagine the wind in his hair is Jason’s hand, ruffling in a way nobody else has ever been brave enough. Easily affectionate, despite all the ways Nico threatened him, kept him at a distance. Jason was just like that, always eager to be there, to hold, to comfort. 

Gods, Nico wishes he could’ve accepted one more hug. Had one more conversation. 

It’s starting to rain. The temperature drops and the sky darkens and Nico can smell it, the dampness in the air. The first drops splatter across his cheeks and his nose, his lips. He doesn’t flinch. He’s used to sitting out in storms, now. 

“I love you,” he tells the sky. 

In return, the rain pelts harder, quickly turning from a drizzle to an outright downpour, soaking Nico’s hair to the root in seconds. His clothes stick to his skin. 

He still doesn’t move. 

“Don’t cry with me.” It’s silly, to act like the rain is Jason’s doing. Still. It helps Nico cope. Sometimes, if he imagines hard enough, he can still see memories of Jason’s grin, that scar on his lip, the tilt of his nose while the skies opened up around them, a display of power, a force of nature.

Nico never saw Jason cry. He supposes Jason never saw him cry, either. Just another thing they’ll never get to share. Another thing they missed. “You’re going to drown your flowers, at this rate.” 

The deluge does not die down. 

It’s enough to almost make him laugh, the sudden mental image of Jason scowling down at the flowers he doesn’t really like at all, the ones that make him sneeze and itch. Jason Grace, mighty son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, using all of his power to destroy a few flowers that have wronged him. 

Nico didn’t get to know that side of Jason very long, the side of him that was a young boy, the side of him who was a person. But gods, of everything they did get together, that is what he’s happiest to have had. The truth. Not the son of Jupiter, not the champion, not the praetor. Just the boy. 

Nico smiles, even as he cries, leaning back in a graveyard during a near-biblical rain storm. Nico smiles. 

Every day, it gets a little easier to. Every day, he hopes Jason is smiling back, from wherever he is. 

#jasicoweek2023 #day3 #tw major character death #tw grief #tw this shit sad #jason grace #nico di angelo #jasico #i'd say sorry for this but I'm not #It's supposed to be comforting but I don't know if that part comes across LMFAO #i was going to have this end with Nico going home and Jason is actually still alive and the grave is just there as a reminder #but then i decided that was cheap and a cop out and sometimes you just have to write something that's sad #i'm guilty of always trying to Fix Things in my fics and make them Better #instead of letting the characters learn to deal with their situation #so here is my first foray into 'this situation fucking sucks but i'm making the best of it because it's what he would have wanted'

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

saw across the spider verse finally and this is my first post of many to excise this conflict the movies of miles have left in me since the very first one:

the copaganda wasn't subtle the first time neither was it this time but it did surprise me that gwenvs dad implied he quit like telling us that maybe his morals cannot come from abiding a code he doesn't have a say in? and i think they planted the seeds with hobie too, like there's even the scenes that try to justify the cops existing in a spider story as staples of his myth, those things felt more like that, justification for still talking about them in relation to heroism, because honest to god the movie doesn't seem able to come up with examples of cops helping lmfao, did they even notice? like did the writers notice? but honestly with both hobie and that line from gwen's dad i had a glimmer of hope

but that keeps falling short when i have to look at jefferson, like in the comics his stints with the law are more a contract to his desire to be good to the people he loves, like a tool almost, the fact that the movies went a step further to make him loyal to it is profoundly disgusting specially when i look at how rio who was supposed to be the one most heroic to miles, a nurse, was reduced in favor of raising jefferson the cop to stardom, like fuck, that has always felt so superficial and trite for a spider man myth, but it used to be that the conflict was because it put into question the morality from the law as something incomplete and rigid and ultimately useless against the threats the heroes come against, which are representative of the society the heroes and all their ills are meant to embody

heroism is what these cops are meant to represent for the writers and animators like that's the issue, that's why we fuckers of color complain, because today right now, people and cops and professionals and people with power keep pretending that cops can be called heroes, that they can take up the mantle of one of the most precious parts of society which is communicating the morals of a time as if they could be the only ones that could in their hands the understanding of the myth of good and evil in the time they inhabit, but it's all a lie like are people this blind to themselves, they're just human, they're just fucking people like us, they can't hold nothing for shit because they're also people who have been told to use power as their life and truth, a hero is so many fucking things but he who holds all truths, he's not, often the hero shows us the journey to be able to inhabit, create, mold and be those truths, but also that we could inhabit the lies so easily, if the hero falls so do the people so does the nation, and cops want to be entrusted with that story but they don't see it, they don't that they're not asking like people or heroes but like gods like myths, and it's crazy that this world wants to keep pretending that when someone says they are a cop, as if they truly were it, they're but playing mockeries of human beings, because all they do is enforce power they do not understand, and just because this movie managed once again to try to put the cops against the spider scenes people are eating it? when the text it self could only give us good actions of the cops in relations to their kids and families? when the writers comfortably ignored the social impact of the story of spider this time around in favor of the personal conflict which ended up falling short for me and other fuckers of color because of how many fucking times they couldn't stay away from implying cops are just good people and not the bunch of fucking criminals the state has sanctioned as executors of its will specially against black and brown kids in the us like you have got to be disconnected from reality to be able to ignore all that frfrfrfr

it's just not the story of our times you know? that cops are do gooders... they can't literally be, they're meant to embody power, and power is just power too, it all depends on who wields it, which tells you what being a cop really is, and ofc the military and other things that have to defer to command to call themselves functional, they're naught but tools, extensions of the state, when it comes to exercising power in today's society is all about functionality and quality and maintaining a machine, and thus we got eugenics and racism and discrimination so that people can form themselves into tools to enforce systems of oppression to others so that wr can become, we call this all morality and capitalism and whiteness keep pretending there's only one way to be and define ourselves and what we learn, perverts all into becoming money and abuses to protect the power gives participants in our dehumanization, we have to consider the story of this world fr, that there are abuses in place today because of history that they're tied to skin, that they're tied to identity and the disparities represent our inability to compromise into making life fair and humane for all, those who are not deemed are those who are not picture perfect functions of the system, race usually comes tied to a perception of less humanity, of ableism, of being born as less because of it, do people not see it or are they just good st ignoring their own words?

it's insidious that the story keeps pretending that jefferson morales is able to stand for the entire police and on top of that they imply that that's what would happen with jefferson dead like rio didn't die in the comics and it just made miles want to do good like as much as i enjoyed the twist by the end it doesn't sit right with me but at the same time they sort of implied that it's all about the superhero, so like idk part of. me think there's actually a division in the writing room, and by the end what's given me hope for that story to maybe break was hobie and gwen's storylines, albeit gwen's a bit more ambiguous it feels close to what jefferson should represent how miles does things that jefferson finds conflict and how maybe he cant keep supporting power but i just don't know how many people understand that either, cops are a job, they just follow rules, how many times have people working companies or for a living have had to do horrible shit to themselves and others because we were taught to endure it, cops are the most advanced and finalized version of that able to mutilate themselves and kill others in service of power coated in a story made to make them feel good

like fuck is there any way to leave this clearer? miguel has created what is basically rick and morty's fucking citadel abd just as fascistic as that one bitch thinks he can control time and space because of his dark story, miles breaks away from that, so does hobie, so does gwen by the end, right now maybe i want to leave it clearer, for me, that the story is a disaster due to the implication that cops are just like masked vigilantes and that the only difference is the legality of the act, when we know, maybe mostly by those that inhabit a reality marginalized, that cops just maintain divisions that are meant to protect a status quo, the two lines the story followed should have been used to contrast different moralities, those enforced by power and those sought out from a place of kindness and that much i can tell fell flat for me because of that fucking contrast nowhere to be seen, what i hate right now is have to wait to the next movie because in my head i keep replaying hobie looking with pride and miles breaking apart miguel little bitch o'hara, and gwen's dad saying he quit, because it meant hurting his own daughter, and theres a ray of hope there but idk people need a reality check, cops are killers, cops are murderers, cops are your enemy because they make you one, you don't get to choose your role when you're in a situation with them, and the writers need to leave that clearer because otherwise it is truly off putting to have this movie like this right now when atlanta's fucking cop.city is looking to become a model of fascism everywhere on the fucking world like do i sound insane or hyperbolic? i don't think so, we know history i hope, what this movie has done with the cops and heroism and race is truly atrocious but there's hope if they can be knocked into sense and that starts with looking at reality from those whose faces are put onscreen for us to see ourselves like can we really not make better mirrors of ourselves that empty tools of the state in the forms of cops? like can we really not be better than a glorified pencil. pusher crunching people for the state? is that all heroes can be too? how depressing man....

#across the spider verse #el suco #idk #indi #ari #dez #spider meta #across the spiderverse

[givemea-dam-break]

Until We Meet Again

a/n: requested by @oyasumimosura ,, i've never really written a fic like this before so it might not be a great quality but i'll try my best and i hope you like it! it is originally set in the httyd world before having a modern au. i had last kiss by taylor swift on repeat while writing this which helped massively lmfao Warnings: this has not been proof read lol, little bit of sad Words: 1.8K Female reader

His face feels like ice under your fingers, the winter air laced with the scent of pine trees and sea salt. The warmth of his breath fans across your skin but it's not as if you can feel the cold for yourself. You've never been able to, though the chill spreading across his own feels like pinpricks on your fingertips. Hiccup has always made you feel things you were never meant to. "We knew this day was coming," you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. "I have to go back." He leans into the warmth of your hand, a small, sad smile tugging on his lips. "I know, I just wish you didn't have to." Leaning forward, you press your forehead against his, closing your eyes. It's peaceful just being like this, with only the winter breeze, the ocean and your love, but it can't last much longer. You were never meant to stay as long as you have, and your family will no doubt reprimand you for the interaction with mortals lasting so long, your connections becoming so deep. "Whenever you need me," you say, "just say my name. I'll hear you; listen out for you. I may not speak, but you'll know I'm there. Odin cannot stop me from giving you comfort." "No," Hiccup laughs, "no, I suppose he can't." You hear the sharp inhale of his breath and, instinctively, your arms wrap around him in a tight embrace. He smells like leather and embers from working in his workshop for so long, creating inventions and gadgets you're sure even your fellow gods can't. You take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent for what will be the last time. "There will be a day when we will meet again." At the words, his arms squeeze tighter around your torso. "I'm not sure when, but it will come. Odin tells me it will be snowfall, though I'm not sure which one." When you pull away, you take the time to admire the mortal you have come to love. He has aged much since when you first met, when he was but a teenager, now a wrinkled and hobbling old man by Berkian standards, but you love him all the same. You have known that he would age, and he has aged well, you must give him that much, but you don't want to part with him, not so close to his deathbed. "Snowfall," Hiccup repeats breathlessly, his eyes flickering over your face as if trying to memorise every line, every angle, every detail before you are both separated. You kiss his cheek gently, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and smiling. "We will meet again, my love, whether it is in this life or the next. And, every day, I will wait for the snowfall where I will finally be permitted to see you again. I will wait for you." "Until we meet again." -- The winter sun casts a golden glow on the grand windows of the museum whose steps you currently stand on, the glass glittering like crystals as it sparkles down on the ground in mesmerising spectrums of colour. You shiver in your thick jumper and jacket, wrapping the woollen scarf around yourself a little tighter to provide even a morsel of warmth - something you never thought you'd have to do. The snow breezes down, the snowflakes kissing your cheeks like a gentle lover that fills your insides with that cosy feeling you once identified as comfort, tranquillity. Your students, ones you've been teaching for close to half a year now, mill about the entrance to the museum, wrapped in clothes just as warm as yours, some having already disappeared inside to see the artefacts and displays. When you finally go in yourself, you grin at the sight of all the exhibits, watching as your students gleefully roam the area. With ancient history being their major, the subject you now teach, this place is like heaven for some. You take your time wandering the exhibits, trustful that your students won't cause a fuss, reading the plaques of information beside historical pieces and paintings. That's not right, you think for some of them. Thor isn't that slim, Frigga's nose is wider than that, and so on. It's another comfort seeing how the mortals depict your family, even yourself, in some of their displays on the period of time in

which your fellow gods ruled. With others, you're pleasantly surprised by the accuracy. The final piece in the row of displays you're currently studying sends a shock through your system, a skip in the beat of your heart. You almost reach out to touch it but refrain. Mortals are awfully particular about museum pieces being untouched, which you can respect, but this piece hits close to home. A tailpiece, for some sort of large creature, showing how intricate the creations of some Vikings could be. Its red tail fin is tattered and old, weathered by hundreds of years of age, but you can still see the white design on it, the complicated mechanisms that helped it move. The mechanisms you helped create. Memories of a green-eyed, black dragon flash behind your eyes, with a brown-haired rider atop his back, both grinning in their own special ways, and your heart twists. It is possible that the mythical beasts we called dragons exist, the plaque reads. This piece shows the intricacy that went into creating a tail fin for what we can only assume is a beast that needed it to balance during flight, though no current day or extinct animals are large enough for this, or do not have the right biology to fit this. So, now, we ponder, did dragons once roam this earth with humans? Yes, you want to say. They existed, just as the gods do, and they were exquisite. By the time the afternoon comes around, you have dismissed your students, and many are already on their buses home, others opting to walk. You decide the same, finding your way into a large park where dogs run around and couples hold hands. A series of houses are placed on the left, a decent distance away, but close enough to see the curtains that drift inside the windows and the silhouettes of families in their kitchens. A smile plays on your lips. To your rights, a dog bursts through a pile of snow while its owners, a happy pair of men with gloved hands interlocked, laugh and joke about its antics. Kicking a pile of snow off the path, you stuff your hands in your pockets for warmth. You've been feeling awfully human for a time now, but it's not something you'd never change. Odin has blessed you, in a way, by letting you finally be able to connect with the very thing you exist for - people. "As their patron," he once said, "it is only wise that you feel as they feel, see as they see." It has been the best experience of your life. You feel closer to the people of the earth, not like someone looking in from behind an unbreakable glass screen. You just wish that the blessing didn't also bring with it that empty feeling you get every time you think of the love you once had. A strange sound comes from below you and, as you stop and glance down, you can't help but smile at the little creature at your feet. A cat, black as onyx with intelligent green eyes. Humans have a superstition about black cats, you remember, and you can only question it at the sight of the dear thing. "Hello," you murmur, crouching down to stroke it. It purrs, rubbing itself against the palm of your hand, and a strong sense of deja vu hits you with the strength of a gale. For a moment, it's not soft fur beneath your fingers but smooth, obsidian black scales. It's been a long day, you suppose, and you often have memories of the life you once had. "Oh, my God!" a voice shouts. "You found my cat." Footsteps rush over, almost stumbling, before coming to a halt in front of you. Hands reach out to pick the small cat up, and you look up as the person clutches the feline to their chest, only to stop short. The man before you, in his early twenties - about as old as you look - breathes heavily, his alabaster skin freckled and rosy from his search for his pet. Like the cat, he has green eyes, though his are much less luminous and more like a pine forest in spring; deep green speckled with gold. Deep brown hair falls messily over his forehead and curls around his ears, with a couple braids thrown in the mix. "Thank you so much," he says, scratching the cat behind the ears. "Usually he doesn't run off,

but he must've gotten sick of me." He laughs before looking up at you, stopping short. His brows furrow as he stares and, for a minute, your heart stops. "Hiccup," you breathe, the oxygen almost completely sucked from your lungs. He frowns, looking exactly how he had in his youth when you first knew him. "How did you know my name?" "Oh, uh, sorry," you say. "I have the hiccups." "You say 'Hiccup' when you hiccup?" he questions. Then, he waves his free hand before continuing to stroke his cat. "Doesn't matter, but have we met before? I just got a mega feeling of deja vu, or whatever it's called, and I have no idea why." You swallow thickly. "Um, no, I don't think we have." Yes, we have! you want to shout. We were in love! You helped me learn how to love, Hiccup. Hiccup shrugs, and it's so much like how he used to that it pains you to watch. "Oh, well. Anyways, thanks for finding my cat for me." He pauses. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name? I'd like to properly thank the woman responsible for finding my pest of a pet." The cat only purrs in mild annoyance, bumping its small head against his chest. "Y/n," you say, almost stuck for words. "My name's y/n." "Y/n," he repeats with a grin. Your heart leaps. "Well, thank you, y/n, for finding little Toothless, here." The cat in question yawns, almost perfectly timed, revealing an almost tooth-free mouth, save for a few at the front of his gums. "He lost a few teeth as a kitten," Hiccup explains simply. "I hope to see you around, y/n." Your hands have to ball into fists, nails digging into your palms, for you to actually believe that this is all real. "I hope so, too," you manage.

#hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock #x reader #hiccup #httyd hiccup x reader #httyd hiccup haddock x reader #httyd hiccup #httyd #how to train your dragon #request #fanfic #httyd x reader #httyd fanfic #reader insert #httyd reader insert #givemea-dam-break