not just your regular gourd

Lilly. 25+, they/them. sideblog. let's be friends? spoilers abound. feel free to follow, unfollow, and block as you please.

[gailynovelry]

The fastest way to accomplish The Project is to cease being afraid of The Project. The Project cannot maim you. The Project cannot kill you. The Project is more afraid of you than you are of it. It is okay if The Project turns out differently from how it was in your head, and it is okay if it has flaws. You are capable of engaging with The Project.

[gourdier]

Unfortunately, today's turned out to be a non-writing day… damn…

[gourdier]

I don't regret leaving Spotify but all my character playlists are on there 🥲 I wanna obsess over fanmixes again so bad…

[theobjectlesson]

Not sure if this has been asked before but for How to Take a Fall, which skateboarders were your inspiration for the different characters?

ohhhh anon you've gone and done it now. sorry this took so long, but an ask about my very favorite topic and still very much obsession that i will take ANY excuse to talk about? fully shameless self indulgence to follow, here we fuckin go:

Percy Jackson

Percy's inspiration has layers. Shecks and Nyjah are very different skaters with pretty similar career arcs: both started pro careers very young, both were SO good in competitions SO quickly, and both basically lived long enough to see themselves become the villain - or at least, very controversial figures in skateboarding. Young Percy's style was more like Sheckler's: less technical, more massive jumps/drops, absolutely fearless and kind of joyful too. Then with the pressure to keep winning he moved towards how later Nyjah skates: all high-scoring, ultra-technical flip tricks and grinds, here to win or nothing - though I also think Nyjah started off more "organic" - see his hardflip to beat P-Rod at X Games 2013. In the end, I like to think Percy winds up somewhere in between. Nyjah not even medaling at the first ever Olympic skateboarding competition, after winning more competitions than any other skateboarder in history and being the MASSIVE favorite, was my inspiration for writing this fic in the first place. Obviously Percy's character in skateboard land was also pretty heavily influenced by sheckjah's arc, but how naturally Percy fell into that hero/pariah/scapegoat role was really validating for my VISION.

Nico di Angelo

Yuto's the kind of guy where he does a trick that gets a billion points and people watching are like "whaaat, that didn't look harder than XYZ trick so-and-so just did??" and yeah that's because Yuto did it. He makes everything he does look so fucking easy, and it's all SO hard. His style is so smooth it seems effortless, but there are tricks he does in contests that no one else can do (look up the Yutornado). From his style he seems so relaxed - but there's this edge to him that creeps through and belies how intense he is, if you're paying attention. Examples: his yell after finally landing his best trick in the Paris 2024 Olympics, and this thing he does at the end of runs sometimes where he kicks off his board like he never wants to see it again. I sense inner turmoil, and I LOVE inner turmoil. Felt spiritually like how Nico would skate to me - like a massively OP prodigy who looks like he's not trying but actually lives or dies by his skateboard. Also Yuto beat Nyjah in Tokyo so it made sense to give Nico his style.

Annabeth Chase

This one might be my favorite just because it's so comically perfect. Alexis is a barrier-destroying ICON who's been around in skating since the 90s when the sport/culture was even more cis-male centric than it is now. Very cool skating style, beautiful hardflip, big drops, and can use any real street obstacle you give them, but they also have a masters from MIT in architecture and teach a course on skateboard culture and urban spaces at UChicago. They're now coaching the US women's Olympic street team. I mean come onnn, the fic writes itself. One of those people that's respected by EVERYONE, including the super anti-contest skater group. How perfectly Alexis meshed with Annabeth was another big inspiration for getting H2TaF off the ground.

more characters/skaters below the cut!

Leo Valdez

Like if a small fragment of the spirit of Rodney Mullen was reincarnated in Chaz Ortiz. Ortiz for the sneaking up on you with how underrated he is, Mullen for truly endless supply of bizarre flat ground tricks that only he can make look cool.

Hazel Levesque

Rayssa Leal. What do I even say? She's one of the best skateboarders in the world, and probably will be for another decade+. She first showed up as a tiny kid doing heelflips in fairy wings, and at time of typing she's won four straight SLS World Championships. Adorable and will absolutely obliterate you in a competition.

Frank Zhang

CORDANO RUSSEL. HE'S BIG. HE'S CANADIAN. HE CAN 50-50 UP A HUBBA. That takes power. He has his own custom board that's bigger than everyone else's and specially reinforced because he kept breaking regular skateboards. A sweetheart who can also back-handspring out of a fall. He *is* Frank.

Ethan Nakamura

Paul Rodriguez, but really just for the vibes. He and Nyjah Huston had a lot of very close battles in the 2010s that Nyjah came out on top of most of the time, and it's easy to imagine Rodriguez being a real hater about it, even though they never actually seemed to have beef. Also fun to wonder - what if they were fucking? hehehhe Sorry, P-Rod. You're probably very nice and never actually leaked anyone's nudes.

Will Solace

Look, I don't know why I don't like Jagger Eaton. I just don't. He's obviously great, I just think he's all sport, no style, and while I'm very into skateboarding as a sport, the style element is just as vital to it being compelling as the difficulty. Also occasionally he seems like kind of a tool. This is probably very unfair - especially since I'm kind of a Nyjah apologist even though he's guilty of all this and more. Just - if you're going to be kind of a tool, you better also be the GOAT. Otherwise, develop a personality plz. Lol okay that was harsh. My bad, Jagger. You just made great inspiration for Will's role as a silent, mostly off-screen foil.

Piper McLean

Skye Brown. Park skateboarder who is the first female skater to land a 540 in a competition. Will spin circles around you and look SO COOL doing it. Why'd I decide Piper was a park skater instead of street? Who knows, but that's how I feel.

The infant at Tampa Pro

Ginwoo Onodera. He is bb in tiny shorts and will wipe the floor with your face.

Grover Underwood

Ishod Wair. The man screams authenticity. Back in el day he rocked a tie-dye shirt and beanie and cargo shorts. Half skateboard mega-nerd, half the coolest dude you've ever seen. Used to not show up in contests much, and when he did the rumor was he never planned out his runs, just went out there and played jazz. Feels very Grover to me, which I'd found a way to give him more screen time.

Jason Grace

Okay I promised myself I was limiting this to people we actually *see* skate in the fic, but he's Tony Hawk. He just is. Someone has to be Tony Hawk, and it's Jason.

Thank you SO MUCH for the ask and letting me take a trip down memory rabbit hole!

[gourdier]

Relationship: Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson Warnings: Sexual content Word Count: 301 Summary: Nico finds himself in Percy's bed. Inspired by the prompt "Empty" at @percicomicrofic.

Also on Dreamwidth if you want to click the "I am over 18" button again, I guess.

Percy’s hands circle Nico’s thighs, straddled around his waist. The sword callouses on his palm scrape up the tender skin, high enough so he can finger where the cloth of the boxer briefs meets Nico’s thrumming flesh. Nico can hear his own desperation in his double-quick heartbeat and every hitch in his breath. His bones are light inside him. Ceramic; fragile. This side up. Handle with care.

A finger digs into the black cotton and tugs. Percy’s eyes are fixed on Nico with a focus he reserves only for monsters or gods. He asks, “Can this come off?”

“Yes,” Nico breathes. He aches to feel Percy skin-to-skin. To fit completely in his hands, all bare nerves and aching, tender meat, the first bite of which he’d saved just for him. He leans down; Percy eases him free. He receives Nico's lips and tongue with devouring interest, licking up and into the receptacle of Nico’s mouth to taste behind his teeth. Nico’s moan crawls out of his throat for Percy to swallow and his legs weaken and collapse into Percy’s waiting lap.

“Easy,” murmurs Percy. “I’ve got you.”

“You could do more than that,” Nico says. He guides Percy’s dripping length to his entrance. He’s breathless when he demands, “Fuck me already.”

They’re close. Breathing the same air. Nico commits to memory Percy’s stormy eyes, the pupils all-black and wide. His ruffled hair with stray strands stuck to the sweat on his face and neck. His open, panting mouth and the warm expanse of bare skin yet unmarked.

“Yeah.” Percy’s voice is guttural. His hands clench tightly to the bones of Nico’s waist. “I’ll go slow.”

Water changes shape to fill a container. Nico is a vessel, ever-empty, and he fills himself with Percy’s attention, Percy’s care, for tonight. Only for tonight.

[coquicola]

whatever. have more of my au where bianca and nico are taken out of the casino early!! i just wanted to write percy and nico's first meeting OKAY

--

Annabeth and I ended up back at the canoeing lake, but this time it wasn't abandoned. A boy around fourteen years old was sitting on a picnic blanket, frowning down at a binder full of collecting cards. He wore the same bright orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt as most of the other campers. His skin was olive-toned and tan, and his dark hair curled over his ears.

As Annabeth and I approached, he looked up at us through his eyelashes and gave a small smile. His dark eyes glimmered in the sun.

"Annabeth! Are you ready to lose Mythomagic tonight?" His bright smile faltered as he noticed her state. Her blond hair had dried some, leaving it in ragged clumps of curls, but her clothes were still noticeably damp. "Why are you all wet?"

It seemed that the rumors about the bathroom explosion hadn't reached him. Annabeth bristled. "It's nothing. Nico, meet your new cabin mate. This is Percy Jackson. Percy, this is Nico di Angelo."

I didn't remember seeing Nico in cabin eleven when we had stopped there earlier. "You're a son of Hermes?"

He had an easy grin and mischievous glint in his eye, but it wasn't the same Hermes family resemblance that I'd noticed.

Nico scowled, which I guessed meant that he was one of the many undetermined kids, like me.

"I'm claimed," Nico said. "I just live in the Hermes cabin with my sister Bianca. Our father doesn't have a cabin here."

"Why?" I asked.

"Bianca and I are children of Hades."

Hades. The name stabbed me in the gut. The god of the dead, of the Underworld. For some reason, the guy had a death warrant out on me.

And here was his son.

I thought about my mom and clenched my fists.

"He's not really like that," Nico said apologetically.

"Like what?" My mouth was dry.

He shifted uncomfortably and closed his playing card binder. "Like… whatever you're thinking, I guess. Devil horns, or—"

"He killed my mom," I blurted.

"Percy," Annabeth warned.

"Maybe he's a little like that," Nico acknowledged. "But, Percy…" He looked at Annabeth and then back at me, as though trying to decide whether to tell me something. "Your mom isn't dead."

I flinched as though he'd struck me. "What? How do you know that?"

"It's just something that I can sense. She—she isn't dead. My father wants something from you."

"What would he even want? Do you talk to him or something?" I asked. From my interactions with the other campers at Camp Half-Blood, it seemed like they rarely met their parents, if at all.

Nico looked away, but he didn't answer.

[coquicola]

@percicomicrofic | prompt: mirage (and maybe gender? it's a genderbend!) | wordcount: 210 | universe: canon (MoA)

It wasn't a dream. Vero knew when she was dreaming. As a daughter of Hades, she had some influence in that domain. So it wasn't a dream. It wasn't death, either. The death trance she had to put herself in made her intimately aware of how that felt. Vero was awake and alive, though she wasn't sure how long she had left.

She shouldn't have been able to see anything in the pitch-black, but there it was: the shimmering visage of Penny Jackson. Her dark eyebrows scrunched together in worry, green eyes— even brighter than normal— flickering around.

Penny's ghostly image moved closer. Had Vero found herself in her dream? It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Penny?" she whispered.

"Vero?" Penny fell to her knees in front of her, but her voice came as though from underwater. "Where is this place? We'll save you…"

Vero reached out as though to touch her friend's hand, but her fingers only grasped the pomegranate seeds she'd been using to sustain herself. "Promise?"

Penny jerked back. That word was a knife between them. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Even in a dream, the air in the jar was suffocating. Pleading eyes locked with Vero's. And Penny took that knife.

"Promise."

[theobjectlesson]

🌊 for @percicomicrofic | prompt: SURVIVE | word count: 620ish | universe: post-canon/@owlintheskies 's "Confined Friction" quest that my brain keeps coming back to...

The moment Nico starts to see the faint, far-off window of sky above them is the same moment everything goes to shit.

He doesn't see what got Percy exactly, just that it was big and fast, shooting through one side of the air pocket they're walking in and taking Percy out the other between its teeth. Nico uses his half-second of processing time to shout part of Percy's name instead of taking a breath, so as dark, freezing water crushes in on him from all sides, there's nothing in his lungs but fumes. Something bumps him in the water, sharp and slicing against his leg, but he can't move, he can't breathe, he can't do anything.

Well, except die. He can definitely do that, and it'll be a relief, because Percy is gone, Percy might be -

Something circles his waist and pulls him from behind, and Nico convulses in its grip, body fighting mind over the urge to exhale, the last dregs of air escaping between his lips in a weak burst of bubbles. Then he's being turned, and he's got another half-second that his carbon-dioxide soaked brain totally wastes before there's a hand on his face and a mouth on his mouth and air in his lungs.

He coughs like a fucking idiot, but the mouth is back with more air and now Nico's brain isn't so poisoned that it can't make out Percy's face, blurry in his burning, salt-soaked eyes, but here. Not dead, not eaten, but here, holding Nico's face and pulling him in again. Nico jerks back as relief turns into realization, but Percy's grip is too strong for Nico's half-frozen muscles and Percy's mouth is too insistent for Nico to do anything but take it, let it slant across his own as Percy tips Nico's head back and breathes more air into his lungs. Air he thankfully doesn't cough it right back up, and suddenly they're rocketing towards the surface.

Nico spends a few seconds hacking up seawater and stale air onto the shores of Salliq once they break the surface, Percy dragging him bodily through the manhole-sized opening in the rocks. Then he pushes himself up onto four aching limbs, shivering with cold and adrenaline, and the careful hand on his back feels like its burning.

He looks up to see Percy kneeling next to him, arm outstretched.

"What - what happened?"

His voice sounds horrific. Percy scowls. His clothes are torn and soaking wet, and Nico can see half-healed cuts through the shredded fabric.

"A ketos. Guess he wanted to run it back on some ancient beef. I'm sure he's regretting it."

Nico tries to remember the immense black shape in the water, but all that comes is the feeling of seeing Percy there in front of him one second and gone the next. That, and everything after.

"Sorry about that," Percy says, guilty and barely audible under the sound of Nico's pulse in his ears, "I shouldn't have dragged you down there."

Nico shakes his head, tipping sideways to sit on the rocks. Out of reach of Percy's hand, but not his concerned expression.

"Are you okay?"

Nodding just makes Nico's head spin worse.

"Um, yeah, I just - " he tries, but just ends up coughing again, wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.

"Ah, yeah I promise to get you some mouthwash in the next town," Percy says with a sheepish grin. Nico stares at him.

"I just figured - 'not your type' was still better than drowning, right?"

"Oh, um, y-yeah. Thanks."

Nico can't look at that smile, so he turns away and stares at the endless, empty expanse of Hudson Bay instead. His throat aches and his face feels wet, but then, drowning will do that to a person.

[theobjectlesson]

🌊 for @percicomicrofic | prompt: FOG+TURN | word count: 440ish | universe: gaelic folklore AU

When Nico is ten, a strange boat made of skins and bones crashes on the rocks off Ardnamurchan and sinks, all hands lost. His mother waits outside their cottage, feet at the water's edge, for a month. The village gives them an even wider berth as she prepares final rites for the corpses to free their souls to the next life, but none ever wash up on the beach.

When Nico is twelve, their village has no priestess, and he finds a strange pelt in the sand. He only takes it because Will said it was from some gross dead thing and Nico shouldn't touch it, so obviously he was going to touch it. It turns out not to be gross at all, but clean and dry, thick with dense black fur, but Nico forgets to wonder about that when later on that same day he finds a boy on the beach, pale and naked as anything, passed out in the surf.

Nico is thirteen when he has his first kiss. He finds Percy - a strange name for a strange boy - where he often is, standing just past the upper reach of the tide at dawn, wrapped only in the old quilt Nico's mother made for Bianca that someone might as well use. Percy's always staring out to sea, but he turns when Nico comes to him, a gentle touch at his elbow pushing the sadness back to the depths of his eyes. This morning, Percy touches back, pulling Nico in by the wrist, and the thick morning fog hides them from land and sea alike.

Nico is fourteen when he falls to his knees in the bitter waves, drenched with salt water from his feet to his eyes. He cries out to diminishing ripples in indifferent water, because he didn't know, he swears he didn't know it was Percy's. Nico would've given it back if he'd known. He wasn't trying to keep Percy prisoner, he thought he was keeping Percy safe.

But no one hears him, or if they do, they don't believe him. Nico isn't sure he believes himself.

When Nico is seventeen, and the beach is as shrouded and empty as it's been every day for years, he walks on bare feet in frigid sand and ignores the feeling of being watched by the sea. Except, today the feeling will not be ignored, and Nico can only watch back, frozen in place, as something - someone breaks through the surface of the water.

He can only wait as Percy walks out of the waves and falls at Nico's feet, his seal skin held up like an offering for Nico to take in shaking hands.

[aarbeaz]

@percicomicrofic | prompt: FOG | wordcount: 1, 648 | warning: this is mature for allusions to domestic violence, mentions/slight descriptions of toxic relationships, mature language, and some slight descriptions of NSFW acts. proceed at your own discretion.

༄༄༄

Percy Jackson had been in a car crash a few weeks ago.

It wasn't anything serious. A sleepy truck driver accidentally bumped into the rear of his car, and although Percy didn't get hurt except for a few scratches, the rear of his car was entirely totaled.

If someone asks him how he felt during those moments, Percy wouldn't be able to describe it. He doesn't really remember the fuzzy details about what he was feeling. Only that it was a foggy night and his car's taillights weren't working. Not the jerk against the windshield. Not those few moments where he thought he was going to die as the car skidded across the rain-soaked asphalt, and he hadn't even brushed his teeth in the morning.

What he does remember vividly, though, is going to the car insurance company a week later and seeing a different kind of car crash there. One with shockingly black hair, leather jackets, cigarette smoke curling off him almost cinematically as he leaned against the railing of the stout building's balcony. Percy couldn't move. Very cliché, he knows, but even then the guy had completely arrested Percy's emotions.

"Cigarette?" the guy had asked with a grating whisper when he noticed Percy staring at him too long.

And Percy really didn't know what had compelled him to say it, but he responded with: "You don't look like the type to get car insurance."

"Why?" the guy smirked, and Percy really thinks it should be illegal for some people to be this hot. "You think goths can't live responsibly?"

A laugh yanked its way out of Percy as he accepted the cigarette, staring out into the bleak view of cars honking in the street under the office balcony when all he wanted to do was stare at this incomprehensible beauty.

"No. Just that you look..."

He watched the guy take a long inhale from the cigarette and let the puffs of smoke engulf him.

"Look what?"

"Lonely."

The guy turned his full body to Percy, showing off the spiky leather belt and those tall spiky boots.

He quirked an eyebrow, and Percy wanted to die. "You're not smooth."

"Wasn't trying to be."

"Loving the enthusiasm."

Which Percy later realizes is a genuine statement and not one of his signature satirical comments as Percy goes down on him like this is his first time seeing a dick when they're back at his apartment. The guy tries not to moan but gives up when the orgasm wrecks through him, eyes rolling into his head, hand clutching painfully onto Percy's hair like a lifeline, back arching against the bed.

"I'm Percy," he murmurs against the guy's sticky thighs as he shudders, coming down from his high.

"Nico," he responds, and Percy barely catches it when the guy - no, Nico - pulls him up by the hair to meet his lips, and he tries not to get lost in that addictive taste of nicotine and lingering cigarette smoke he finds at the back of Nico's teeth.

And, much like Percy's previous ventures, it does not work. He is incapable of having casual hookups, so of course he has to exchange numbers, and of course Nico has to message him almost weekly with locations in dingy hotels and crappy bars with fog machines. And of course those casual hookups have to turn into giving each other nicknames and Nico bringing sushi over when he's sick and wasting hours just talking because time is too slippery when it comes to spending time with each other. And that has to somehow turn into Percy lying on the floor of his living room trying not to die because he realized he's in love with Nico di Angelo on a random Tuesday evening months after the car crash.

But the thing about car crashes is that they were always meant to be spur-of-the-moment things. You cannot build a relationship with a car crash, you cannot fall in love with little more than fog curling your feet, yet somehow it hadn't occurred to Percy when he would pretend Nico didn't smile at his phone like a giddy teenager in love, texting someone who was indiscreetly not him, pretend he didn't know why Nico would always choose inconspicuous hole-in-the-wall places for meeting up as if he wasn't trying to hide Percy from someone else.

Now, though, it comes together almost like a soap opera - and not a very inventive one at that - in one of those dingy pubs with smelly fog machines Nico takes Percy out for drinks to.

Because just as Percy kissed him and was about to tell Nico he loves him, he feels a hand pull him away from Nico's addictive nicotine-coated lips, hiss out 'you fucking bastard' and land a punch on Percy. Pain flares through Percy, and in that moment all he knows he has to do is fight.

He clenches his fists, about to land a punch on this random blonde guy, when he feels Nico's tight grip on his bicep and his impassioned cries.

"Stop it, Will!" he screeches.

Percy turns to look at Nico and tries not to be shocked at the amount of emotion just spilling out of it. Nico has always preferred showing his love in actions rather than words, which is how Percy knows something is viscerally wrong when he's been driven to so much unabashed feeling.

"You know him?" he asks incredulously.

The blonde bastard - Will, apparently - lets out a guttural, mirthless laugh.

"Know him? I'm his fucking boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?"

There.

That word.

That is the exact moment Percy remembers exactly how his car crash had felt like.

Fucking hell.

"Will, please. Just let me - let me explain. I'm sorry, I - just give me a minute, please?" Nico's voice is soft and pleading like he's never heard it before, so different from his Nico, the Nico that would yell and insult but never beg, never crack, never take shit from anyone like this.

Surprisingly, Will listens and walks all the way over to the other end of the pub.

Percy turns to Nico, trying his best not to let the tears fall, because somehow crying in front of Nico is worse than crying in front of a very interested audience in a pub where this is probably the most drama it's ever gotten.

"You have a boyfriend."

"Yeah." Nico cannot meet his eyes. His voice has gone back to disinterested apathy.

"When we had sex the first time, you had a boyfriend."

"Yeah."

"When you would come over with sushi when I was sick and let me call you my Ghost King as if you would ever let me love you, you had a boyfriend."

"I think you know the answer already by now."

The problem is, Percy's known from the first time they were together. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I was going to tell you that I love you," Percy says because he hates himself and doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut.

Nico looks up sharply. His gaze flicks towards Will across the room, who is still glowering at the two of them.

"I've always told you I can't love you back."

"Yeah, and I thought you still needed time or something, not that you were cheating on your boyfriend with me!"

"I love him," Nico clarifies, and Percy tries not to let that break his heart. It doesn't work. He can almost hear it breaking, like glass tumbling down, and he hopes it doesn't show on his face. "I can't love you because I love Will."

"Not enough to stay loyal to him, apparently," Percy sneers, and this is the first time since meeting Will that he's seen Nico look at him with anything other than bored dissociation.

"He cheats on me, too," Nico says, voice suddenly soft like he's trying not to crack, eyes filling with tears. "That's just what we do. He's been cheating on me since we started dating, and he thinks I don't know, but I see him every night come home smelling of sex. I thought - I thought it was okay because he was still coming back to me."

Before Percy can get another word out about how sincerely fucked up this whole thing is, Will shoves Percy in the shoulder, apparently having stomped over.

"Time's up. We're going home."

"Percy - "

"Shut up, Nico." Will seethes.

He doesn't wait for an answer and captures Nico's wrist between his fingers, dragging him as Nico looks back with unfiltered despair, not protesting against Will's hold but not complying totally either.

Fuck. Fuck. Of course Percy had to fall for the one guy who's in a toxic relationship and can never love him back. He's lucky like that.

Percy doesn’t remember his car crash, but now he remembers a different one. Now, he remembers leather jackets coated in smoke, spikes and black hair and Nico’s legs tightening around his head as he comes, shuddering and letting out the tiniest of moans as he’s trying so hard to stay quiet but just can’t.

The fog of the shitty nightclub curls around his arms, touching him, taunting him as Nico walks further and further away from him, and suddenly he's gone. He tries not to think about the bruises on Nico's wrist that he didn't leave, tries not to think about the fact that Percy suddenly cannot see Nico's profile picture on his phone anymore, tries not to think about the fact that at one point Nico wasn't just a fuckbuddy, he had basically ingrained himself like a microcosm in Percy's life.

But most of all, he tries not to think about the fact that even through the shitty fog in the club, Nico's eyes still bored intensely into his like his own personal fog light.

[gourdier]

Relationship: Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson; Percy Jackson/OC Warnings: Hurt no comfort Word Count: 1,502 Summary: Nico walks into a mess in Percy's apartment. Inspired by the prompt "Waffles" at @percicomicrofic.

Also on Dreamwidth.

“Oh shit,” isn’t exactly the warm greeting that Nico’s expecting when he steps out of the shadows and into Percy’s single-bedroom flat, but he figures that he deserves it. Then he takes in the state of Percy’s kitchen and has an Oh shit moment himself.

Nico raises an eyebrow. “What happened to you?” he asks.

Around the batter-flecked bowl in his arms, Percy shrugs and twirls his whisk like the goop inside might have him for breakfast if he isn’t careful. From the looks of it, they’ve already gone a couple of rounds despite the early hour and left the bowl’s messy entrails on every available surface. Brown-yellow sludge creeps over the counter, the ceiling, Percy’s hair... Percy’s bare chest and arms...

“I could ask you the same thing,” Percy says, looking Nico up and down. Nico knows that Percy can’t actually see into his brain but he feels his traitorous cheeks flush anyways. “Dude, are you dripping monster juice on my rug?”

Nico looks down at his jacket (mud-streaked), his jeans (ripped at the knees as usual), his shoes (filthy), and the drakon horn in his hand with the drakon’s head still attached to it. From the severed stump of its neck, a drop of green-black blood collects at a ragged tip and splatters on Percy’s fuzzy blue rug. Nico had kind of hoped that the squishy insides would’ve turned to dust by now like Clarisse’s kill way back during the Titan War. Would’ve saved him the mess. In retrospect, claiming just the head had probably turned it into a trophy – including all the drippy bits.

“Sorry,” Nico says. He turns the head over and lays it horn-side down on the rug. The exposed esophagus gurgles with displaced fluid as he tilts it, meaning that he’s going to have to drain it for real after he leaves. Or maybe he’ll just make an offering out of it to his dad and call it day. He asks Percy, completely casually, “It’s cool though, right?”

Percy laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, it’s pretty sick. You should hang it up in the big house. Mr. D’ll love that.”

“Sure. I’ll tell him you suggested it. Since you’re his favorite camper and all.”

“Ha ha.” Percy shoots a look at the door to his bedroom and nudges briskly at the batter again. It leaps for sweet freedom at the lip of the bowl. “Anyways, I gotta wrap this up and get dressed and stuff, so…”

Nico steps out of his shoes, shrugs his jacket on the floor, and makes for the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He twists the batter-coated taps with a finger and thumb until the water runs lukewarm. “You still haven’t answered my question. What’s going on here?”

Percy sighs. “I was kind of trying to make waffles but the mixer died on me. Explosively. So, Nico, meet waffle batch number two. Waffle batch two, Nico. Say hi.”

A bubble rises to the top of the bowl and pops, splattering Percy’s arms with more beige flecks. Nico does not turn to talk to Percy’s plus one – he crouches instead to root under the sink for a surviving dishcloth of the mixer-pocalypse to dry his hands on.

“You know, I always thought that you and blue food had a pretty good thing going on.” Huddled in the back of the cabinet, a roll of paper towels lies on its side. Score. He strips off a couple of sheets to pat his hands on and then starts to apply them to the counter. “Something happen between you or are waffles the exception?”

“Maybe I’m just experimenting,” Percy says lightly. “Hey Nico, look, not that I don’t appreciate your visits but you really don’t have to stick around to clean. I got this, trust me. We can catch up later?”

Nico snorts. “Something tells me that this won’t be as easy as summoning salt water to clean up Geryon’s ranch. Clean-up’s going to go faster with two people. What are you in a hurry to get rid of me for?”

He’s joking of course, but when he looks at Percy, the expression on Percy’s face locks up the muscles in Nico’s arms as effectively as any Gorgon’s glare. Percy’s not stirring the bowl. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. He’s staring straight at Nico, wide-eyed; tense. Afraid?

Which is when Nico hears footsteps from the other side of Percy’s bedroom door. Nico’s got a hand on his sword even before he hears Percy yell, “Wait — ”

What walks out of Percy’s bedroom isn’t a monster or an invader but a man. A shirtless man. A very pantsless man whose definition of ‘modesty’ apparently begins and ends with the navy-blue briefs molded snugly against his waist.

“Holy shit,” says the stranger as he goggles at the kitchen. Then he sees the drakon’s head lying with its mutilated stump pointed skyward on Percy’s living room rug and he says again, “Holy shit.”

Nico suddenly realizes that this is why Percy’s shirtless — why Percy’s been making waffles that aren’t blue and casting furtive glances back at his room this entire time. Experimenting. Nico’s eyes dart over the map of the man’s skin that charts the story of last night: the splotches of color left on his neck and chest by Percy’s teeth; the scratches on his back, long, irregular, and faintly raised; the marks over his hips where Percy would’ve held him last night when they’d… when he’d…

“Hey, Moe. Thought I'd surprise you,” says Percy weakly. “And wouldn’t you know it, my cousin was in the neighborhood. He wanted to show me what he’s been working on. Wicked prop, huh?”

It’s a completely inadequate explanation — both in its plausibility and in how it makes Nico feel — and not a word of it was a lie. Here’s some kid, thinking he could impress his older cousin with show-and-tell; isn’t that cute? The neat lines of Percy’s little postage-stamp kitchen begin to swim and warp around him. Nico’s eyes are hot.

“That’s… one word for it,” says the man. He tilts his head back where he came. “Hey, can we step out and chat real quick?”

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. One hundred percent. Just gimme a sec.”

Nico hears the plastic bowl leave Percy’s arms to make a guided landing on a clear strip of counter. It taxis to a stop right in front of Nico and parks next to his forgotten cleaning rag.

“Can you pour this into the waffle-maker? Two minutes, and then you flip. I’ll be right back.”

Nico makes his head nod. Percy presses a switch on the machine and hovers indecisively. He ducks his head so that he’s at Nico’s eye level and Nico gets an uninterrupted view of the guilt painted over Percy’s face. “Nico. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away, I just…”

“It’s fine,” says Nico’s mouth robotically. “You had company.”

“That’s not — ” Percy leans against the counter, runs a hand through his hair. He looks away. Drums his fingers against his thigh. “I was going to tell you about this after I’ve… I want to talk about this. With you. Later. Can you stay?”

Stay. With Percy and the man that he’d had sex with last night. Was it the first time? Was this the only one? Or were there others? Nico hasn’t seen Annabeth in months. He didn’t even know that she and Percy had broken up. Had this been the reason why?

“It’s important, right?” Nico says quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Percy’s shoulders relax. Now that Nico’s paying attention, there’s a single red mark on the rise of Percy’s clavicle, fresh and obscene against Percy’s bare flesh. The disparity between Percy and the man in Percy’s bedroom hits Nico suddenly. Nico's now seen living proof that Percy could want, and that he’d wanted another man, desperately, with ferocity. Nico feels ill.

“It’s important,” Percy says. He flashes Nico a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

He stands up and disappears behind the bedroom door, leaving Nico alone with waffle batch number two. He opens up the waffle-maker and lays out the batter on its super-heated altar in an even, steady pour. It sizzles contritely, resigned to its fate as Nico closes the machine on it.

Despite the closed door, there’s no pretending that Nico’s alone.

“…Can’t stay,” says the stranger’s voice. “But lemme know next time you’re down. My guy, how do you not have a cell yet?”

“Don’t need one.” Percy’s voice goes indistinct for a moment. “…Just me and Nico for breakfast then.”

Nico flips the waffle. Percy said two minutes but he hasn’t been keeping track. Early or late — either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s never had the timing right.

Things would be simpler if the waffles were blue. Nico tips out the golden-yellow waffle and pours in more of batch number two. As he watches it mature in the griddle, he wonders distantly to himself if Percy will decide that he likes the taste.

[rocket-sith]

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

[gourdier]

sticky note doodles. trying to work out headcanons idk.

[coquicola]

last thing you wrote or drew

rules: in a new post, show the last thing you wrote or drew then tag as many people as you like. tagged by @theobjectlesson

um. hi. hello. i've been obsessed with a huge au that i'll never fully write but i HAVE been writing snippets of because they won't get out of my head. anyway. yay <3

tagging @gourdier and @mark-of-cygnus (only if you want to, of course!!)

---

Annabeth pulled on my shirt, stopping me short. “Wait. They’re keeping someone in that room there.” 

“Are you sure?” I whispered. 

“That dracaena left a tray of food,” Annabeth replied. “They have a prisoner here.”

I couldn’t fathom who Luke would’ve been keeping prisoner. This entire cruise ship was full of brainwashed mortal passengers, and I doubted they got rowdy enough to be brought to the brig. And if the prisoner was a demigod… My stomach flipped. It could be Clarisse. We’d sent her home, but maybe somehow Luke had intercepted her. 

Clarisse and I didn’t have a great history, but I didn’t want her at the mercy of the enemy. 

Annabeth and I shared a look of silent understanding. She put on her Yankees cap and disappeared. I uncapped Riptide and waited in the shadows, eyes peeled for any monsters. The door swung open. White light spilled into the hallway, and I charged in.

If the light was bright in the hallway, once I entered the room, it was blinding. I narrowed my eyes. There were lamps blasting cool bright light from the ceiling of each corner, and the walls were stark white. There were lights installed on the floor too, shining light upwards. I looked down and couldn’t find my own shadow. All of the light had bleached the shadows away. 

My gaze landed on the only dark spot in the room. A teenage boy huddled next to one of the walls, an untouched tray of food sitting beside him. 

The boy was facing away from me. He wore a brown aviator jacket and dark jeans, and his hair was a dark and silky. His hands were covering his face, as though he was trying to hide from the light. I couldn’t blame him. The lights were already starting to make my head pound. 

“Hey,” I said, taking a step closer. 

“Leave me alone,” he growled, pushing the tray of food away from him. “I’ve already told you, I’m not helping you.”

My stomach turned to ice. I knew that voice. 

"Nico?!” Annabeth appeared next to me, her Yankees cap in one hand and her celestial bronze knife in the other. 

He turned around slowly, raising one arm to shield his face from the light above. My heart pounded. 

It was him. My friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades. He’d disappeared from Camp Half-Blood last year, after his sister Bianca had died on a quest trying to clear their names. Rumors abounded— mostly people saying that he’d turned traitor. The curiosity ended there. For most campers, Bianca’s death and Nico’s disappearance were met with relief. 

“Good riddance,” I’d heard a child of Demeter say, one time. 

It was easy for the campers to dismiss Nico. They judged him for his godly parent without even getting to know him. 

I knew what that was like. I was a son of Poseidon. But Nico had it ten times worse. 

“Annabeth,” Nico said, getting up. I heard the rattling of chains, and followed the noise to realize that his ankle was chained to the wall. His gaze landed on me. “Percy.”

Nico had grown an inch or two since the last time I’d seen him, and was probably fifteen by now. He’d traded his orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt and blue jeans, that was obvious. Silver chain necklaces hung from his neck, some with pendants like a cross or a coin. On his right hand, he wore a silver skull ring— the last gift from his sister. 

I remembered his dark eyes gleaming with mischief back at camp. They just looked dull and tired now. 

“Nico,” I said, stepping closer to him. “Why haven’t you escaped?”

“They blocked my shadow travel,” Nico said.

That explained the lights and the flimsy chain around his ankle. Nico couldn’t go anywhere if he was surrounded by light. 

Annabeth walked over to him and cut the chain with her dagger. We didn’t waste anymore time— we left the bright room in the dust.

“What were they trying to do with you?” Annabeth asked, voice low. 

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. It was like seeing the first glimpse of the sun after a week of rain— or maybe it was the relief of the shade after being in the blazing sun all day. My heart skipped a beat.

“Mostly waiting for me to turn sixteen, I guess. That’s months away. But since they had me, they didn’t want to let me go.” Nico snorted. “Luke treats his prisoners well, at least.”

The reminder of Luke made my stomach burn. 

“You should leave,” I urged. “You can shadow travel now.”

“So eager to get rid of me already?” Nico raised his eyebrows.

“N-no!” I could feel my face getting red. “Of course not. It’s just—you’re safe now.”

Nico frowned and offered his hand, a question in his eyes. 

I shook my head. “I can’t leave yet. Annabeth and I—we need to stay and figure out what Luke’s planning.” 

“Then I’m staying too,” Nico decided. 

Annabeth paled. “But—”

“They took my sword,” he said. “I need to get it back.” 

--

Note: In an AU where Nico and Bianca are taken out of the Lotus Casino early, and Bianca is framed as the lightning thief instead of Percy! This is Sea of Monsters-era, because Nico decides to leave camp due to their distrust of Hades kids.

Percy has a not-so-subtle crush and I need to reread Sea of Monsters so badly.

[faustandfurious]

There’s something truly exquisite about stories where the real tragedy is the price you paid to stand on top of the world

[faustandfurious]

Hollow victories … sacrificing your humanity on the altar of what you perceive to be the greater good … the loneliness of godhood … regret for the person you used to be … the realisation that there is no way back … *chef’s kiss*

[faytears]

long hair percy was real in son of neptune. he went months without cutting it and it grew to the point where he kept it in an unkempt half up half down style that still somehow looked frustratingly good (especially mid-battle) and no one could look him directly in the eye.

[gourdier]

The problem with writing Percy POV is that I'm having a hell of a time switching from first person narration to third person.