#Jason gets some gold into his hair to look like lightning or sparks in the right light

[kastalani123]

Consider:

Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.

Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.

A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.

The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.

It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.

Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.

He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.

Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.

Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

What Colour is Gold?

Jercy Fic

This is a fic based on this headcanon. I’m obsessed with Dark!Jercy and since i have a couple Dark Percy fics and one fic of both going Dark i figured its time for Jason to get a taste. I hope you guys enjoy. This was so much of fun to write

Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------------------

when they told me blood smelt like

iron

i grabbed my mother's favourite pan

and sniffed till I got dizzy off the smell

when they told me crying tasted like

salt

i gulped down a glass of ocean water

and watched as tears fell

when they told me silk felt like

polished glass

i dove into the ocean

and scraped shards against shell

i wonder what gold looks like?

maybe it's time to tell

"Dude take my left I'm going for the thing behind us" Percy Jackson yelled, pounding towards the hydra.

"I got you" Jason Grace said, pulling up next to his friend.

"Gods these things get uglier everytime I deal with them" Percy grimaced

"Ugh agreed and those damn empousai are worse than Drew with all the stupid cackling" Jason huffed

"Yea I fought those a while back, they really are the evil cheerleaders of the underworld" His friend grinned sordidly

"I feel like there's a story there but we don't have time right now so add it to the list of stuff you have to tell me when this shit show is over"

Percy laughed before swinging his sword down on one of the slithering snapping heads of the hydra.

"Jay, light it up!"

The blue-eyed boy grinned and pulled lightning from clear skies directly onto the stump of monster neck.

"Damn that never gets old" Percy smirked and then he was back to swinging.

Together the two made a barbecue meal of the hydra and when it crumbled to dust, screeching towards darkness, they laughed.

"Now to get rid of our cheersqaud," Green eyes rolled in annoyance.

"Honestly Percy Jackson how do we end up meeting in such delicious circumstances?"

"Hi Kelli glad to see you look as whole as ever, figured you'd be in the trash since Bob swept you up?"

Jason snickered at the sweetness dripping from his friend's voice.

"An acquaintance Perce?"

"Just some housekeeping jobs gone wrong."

Kelli hissed and with two lethal movements stood in front of the two demigods.

"Your blood is going to be as salty as the ocean Percy Jackson and I cannot wait to drink it.'

"Well that's just dramatic" And with that he swung Riptide around.

It clanged resoundingly against Kelli's bronze leg.

Jason was about to stab from behind when another evil cheerleader popped up next to him. He scrambled back raising his sword. The empousa cackled and shuffled towards him, hair flickering with flames.

He attempted to create a storm, snapping her with lightning.

"Your little tricks do not work on me son of Jupiter." She crowed, pulling her mouth into a fanged grin.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way then" He shrugged, striking his sword against the ground.

He snuck a glance at Percy to make sure everything was okay. Rookie mistake. The empousa used that moment to charge.

"Jason!" Percy yelled

He whirled back around to see the evil cheerleader flying towards him. Jason twisted his sword and flung it towards the shrieking monster. With a vile squelch it found its mark and before she could touch the ground she was ash.

He sighed in relief and turned to thank his friend. Percy was lying on the floor, a hand clutching his abdomen.

Bile climbed up Jason's throat as he rushed forward.

"Percy oh my gods what happened? Fuck shit Percy!" He screamed

"Kelli," Percy gasped, eyes rolling back, "Kelli managed to gut me before I killed her."

Jason sobbed as he felt warm red blood soaking through Percy's shirt.

"What must I do? Tell me how to help you?"

"Ambrosia," The demigod rasped, trying to reach his jeans' pockets.

"Right right okay, just stay with me, you aren't allowed to close your eyes you have to stay with me" Jason was hyperventilating

He shoveled some ambrosia into his friend's mouth and watched the green-eyed boy nibble it, groaning as he tried to swallow.

"Thanks buddy, you're a really good—" Percy succumbed to the darkness.

"No no fuck no! Wake up gods fucking dammit open your eyes Jackson!" He yelled

The son of Poseidon did not stir again.

Jason heaved, blueberry pancakes and water.

Minutes later the tears ran dry, and the shaking ceased.

"This is not fucking over." He swore.

And with that he picked up his friend and started walking. If anyone saw him they stayed far away. Those blue eyes crackled with murder.

Someone was going to pay f

Jason walked and walked and walked, until he stood at the entrance to Olympus. Then and only then did he dare look down. Black hair was plastered to a pale forheadhead and blood had soaked right through the Bon Jovi picture. He tightened his grip under his friend's knees and squeezed the hand holding Percy's shoulder.

The Son of Jupiter prowled onto the marble bridge of Olympus and the entire structure shuddered. Each step struck sparks of electricity. Dryads and nymphs scuttled back to their homes, not daring to make a sound. The infinite music  halted in a single note. The chatter of thriving life died. The only sound was the heavy, deadly footfall of a demigod.

Jason Grace stepped into the throne room and Gods became men.

"Fix this." Two words.

Nothing had ever sounded so paralyzing.

Nobody moved. No-one dared to loose a breath.

"This is your fault. We were down there because you couldn't keep the monsters out of the fields. FIX THIS!" The blonde haired boy bellowed.

"Son we are sorry but we—"

"I don't fucking care what you can and can't do. Fix him." How does a whisper sound louder than drums.

"We cannot change death Jason Grace." Ares frowned.

"Then you should have prevented it," Still so soft.

"I cannot say I'm unhappy to see him gone," Athena mused, unaware of the volatile half blood in her midst.

Jason's laugh entwined itself around his throat,

"And I thought you were the smart one"

The Goddess of Wisdom did not have time to open her mouth before a sword hilt stuck out of her rib-cage.

Her eyes widened a fraction before she slumped over.

The demigod retrieved his sword, inspecting the gold liquid that clung to it.

"Who's next?"

"You think you can beat all of us Son of Jupiter?" Artemis looked at him with interest

"I don't care if I can, I'll die trying if you don't fix him."

Only malice glittered in his eyes. Nothing of the good boy who followed rules and obeyed the divine.

Nobody bothered to move.

Jason smiled and the skies opened up. Lightning rained down like shards of glass, cutting and searing flesh.

Thunder echoed against the stone walls, loud enough to burst eardrums. Blood dripped down the side of agonized immortal faces. Storms, the demigod thought, had never looked so rich.

"JASON!" Zeus roared.

"What?" His son hissed.

"Stop this right now! Dionysus take Percy Jackson to Poseidon, he is not dead. The sea should heal him. And as for you boy you will not defy us like this ever again. I will strip you of everything you are." Zeus slashed.

"If you don't want me to act like this maybe you should stop getting us into life and death situations."

"Get out and do not come back unless you are invited." His father seethed.

"I always did want to know what gold looked like." Jason Grace grinned.

And all around him drops of sunlight coated the stone floor, dripping from those ancient bodies and glittering in the evening beams.

--------------------------------------------

when they told me blood smelt like

iron

i grabbed my mother's favourite pan

and sniffed till I got dizzy off the smell

when they told me crying tasted like

salt

i gulped down a glass of ocean water

and watched as tears fell

when they told me silk felt like

polished glass

i dove into the ocean

and scraped shards against shell

i'll tell you what gold looks like

go ask the gods

they're bottled sunshine

and I am hell

[bluethursday]

In Search of Blue, Blue, Skies.

Summary: Batman x KHR Crossover. Tim is a sky...who knew? 

Note: This is for avanalea. I’m not open for prompts, just filling a few for some old friends. 

Sometimes Tim closes his eyes and sees lights in endless colours trailing through the darkness like fireworks. Fissures of green and purple, explosions of red bursting through. Misty indigo, sunshine yellow…blue, like rain-water. If Tim closes his eyes and looks inwards, he is a supernova made flesh, his insides are the heart of a star, he glows orange gold, and he knows what this means like he knows the steps to his house. Like he knows the streets of the city. Like he knows he will never follow the other colours, will never look outwards, because inside him is all he’ll ever need. 

His mother was the same. An inverted sky, repelling those around her, forcing away instead of attracting. Pushing instead of pulling. 

It is all he ever does, all he knows how to do. 

He has never learned to take other elements into his blue sky, and for all of his mass, he is empty. 

He does not know how to so much as speak to other children, let alone make guardians of people. 

His sky was meant to be this way. Empty of everything but himself. 

….

He sees Dick first. 

Everyone thinks it was Bruce that caught his eye as a child, based on the photos he once took. Everyone is wrong. Dick came first, with his eyes like lightning and his soul like rainwater. 

Tim sees him and he wants to be clean. He could find that boy anywhere. Hunt him no matter where he went. Find him oceans away, all from his base in Gotham without moving an inch. He knows that boy like clockwork, tastes his water on his tongue and does not swallow.  

….

Bruce is the after, a massive cloud, hanging over Gotham. Gotham after all, is Batman territory. It’s a sad thing that most people don’t really know what that means. 

Bruce could never stand invaders in his city. 

….

Tim couldn’t stop following them if he tried once he caught sight of them. Watches them repel each other from rooftops, the way they their souls rubbed against each other causing sparks to form. 

Dick may have been rainwater, may have been made to soothe, but even rainwater pressed against the clouds in ways that irritated them. In ways that made them want to move. 

There was no way for two elements of that strength to be so close to each other without fighting over territory in some way, shape, or form. 

When Jason came, and Dick left to Bludhaven to eke out a corner of his life, free from Bruce’s control it only got worse. 

Storms, stirred up clouds to make explosions. Bruce and Jason tried, but they could not make it work. Far worse, was that Jason was as much lightening as he was storm. Split between two elements in perfect halves. Half suicidal in a melancholy fashion, half rage. Half drowning in a bathtub, half kamikaze plane pilot, fully ready to burn, and burn the world alongside his own immolation. He was a matchstick lit from both ends, burning itself like the worlds tiniest pyre. 

Cloudy days couldn’t put him out. All Bruce could do was attempt to exert his control, and all that did was stoke the fire higher, and call the storm to rage. 

Jason stuck between building up walls, only to burn them down and start over again, could not notice his own imminent self-destruction…or Bruce’s efforts to stop it. 

….

When Tim became Robin the watching felt worse. It felt as though he was watching his family through what felt like sheets of glass. So close, but so far away. His fingertips could reach out to touch, but they never seemed to get anywhere. 

He could not tell them what he was, his mouth had forgotten the words, and he did not know how to push soul from body, to show them where he burned….so he watched, as he always had.  

He was a sky flipped upside down, which is to say, he was not really a sky at all. He was buried alive…or was that Jason. Some days it was hard to keep the facts straight. 

Some days, Tim’s eyes felt glassy and his body felt cold. He had been dealing with such things his entire life. So had his mother. It killed her too. It’s killing Tim right now. His supernova heart, his insides pulsing, but they have no way out, so press they inwards, exerting pressure on his bones, his lungs, and his heart. One day he will burst. 

Some days he feels like he is a glass figurine, all smooth edges, and incased inside him is the sky. He feels the outside world swirl around him, but he cannot reach out. 

….

Damian is horrible. Half sun, half mist. Like some kind of fucked up nightmare mix, so unbalanced Tim cannot even imagine being in his body. Half construction, half activation. His illusions would be solid, but his personality….half reaching to conceal, half reaching for attention, all of him murderous when the results are not as expected. The results are never as expected when you want two different things simultaneously. 

….

Tim’s sky is empty, and he lives in a house filled with elements but walks through it unseen like a ghost. 

He is always a glass window pane away from them, and does not know how to bridge the gap. 

….

The crack comes, he thinks, when he’s dying. He throws himself over Damian’s body at the sound of a gunshot. Stupid boy never wears armour when he’s told to. Never looks back. 

He can feel himself begin to bleed out…and forces of nature are all about dying will…aren’t they? Sky’s are about pushing between that space that separates life and death, and saying…no. 

Tim is a supernova trapped in a fragile, mortal body, and when that crack comes, it shines like a lure at the bottom of the ocean, snagging the prey closest to it. So when Tim lays dying, drowning in his own blood, and he latches on to Damian’s misty summer day like a vice, Damian grabs back. Damian’s flames sense the crack and plunge through the entry way, the fissure the size of a hair, and pry it open with force, until the two of them resonate. 

Harmony clicks, and slides into them like a bullet wound, both of them winded. Damian’s hands glow gold as he presses them to Tim’s chest instinctively healing the wound. 

They will have much to talk about later, but for now, Damian would ensure his sky lived.