#complicated dynamics?

[the-modern-typewriter]

hi! i adore your writing!! please consider this a request for a bit you'd like to write! a coupon, if you will, to use when you have a story that you're itching to tell, or when you need to put words on the screen but don't feel like using a prompt. please snuggle some kitties, drink a big glass of water, and have a bright and lovely day <333

"You didn't try to stop me," the once-villain said.

The hero glanced around, though they weren't surprised to see the familiar figure standing on the other side of the room. They turned back to the cracked window, lit cigarette dangling between their fingers. They exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

"Would there have been a point?" the hero asked.

"You normally find one. Morality, yada yada. That pet peeve of yours."

"Mm. How bad off are they? Can I send a doctor down or is it, like, more of a clean up crew situation?"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"Did you want me to stop you? Or try to?"

The villain crossed the room to stand next to them, leaning over the window too to catch some of the fresh night air. Their hands were perfectly steady, but a little white, on the sill. "I'm merely surprised you didn't."

"I don't approve, if that's what you're asking."

"Of course not."

"But I guess I understand, given what they said. There was no way you weren't going to retaliate," the hero shrugged. "And I...I don't know. Maybe I'm just not that stupid."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I feel icky."

"What a day."

"You didn't answer my question."

"They're not dead," the villain said. "As much as they'd deserve it."

The hero could feel the villain's gaze trained on their face, intent, probing. Something else that the hero would have to glance over again to read, but didn't quite dare to.

"Oh?" they managed.

"Figured you probably wouldn't like me killing them," the villain said, lightly. "Is that why you left? Because you already knew you'd got in my head?"

The hero snorted, even as their heart stuttered. "I had no idea what you'd do."

"No idea at all?"

"Eh, hopes. Dreams. Vague aspirations. Again, I'm not stupid enough to have expectations for you. You'd take it as a challenge."

It was the villain's turn to snort.

"Are you alright?" the villain asked.

"I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that, or something."

"I'll be fine."

"Well, fine, then."

A small silence stretched between them. The villain snagged the cigarette, taking a drag, before stubbing it out. Their hands shook a little then. "Disgusting habit."

"Bite me."

"Are you going to be fine?"

The hero glanced over again, before they could stop themselves. The villain's expression was not exactly soft, but it was somewhere in the ballpark of affection. Dangerous. Confessional. Too full of understanding on exactly what it meant for the hero to have done what they did, and why.

"I'm going to see about that doctor." The hero straightened up, squaring their shoulders. "Don't wait up."

But, of course, the villain did.

[chamerionwrites]

Also, there is so much hand-wringing over the ethics of BDSM and while obviously it is worth taking care about ...sensation seeking is a thing. Many, many people enjoy eating habanero peppers and/or watching movies that make them cry. The conceptual leap from there to the idea that it's possible for sex to hurt good is a very short one, and sometimes it REALLY is as simple as that.

[sparkoflena]

As somebody who has written Batfamily fanfiction (mostly for myself but I have like two things public), Bruce Wayne's relationship with his kids will always be the hardest part.

Yeah, I could fanon it. But I do try my hardest to be at least vaguely canon-compliant in terms of characterizations/relationships.

BUT the history of Bruce Wayne as a father changes depending on the author you read, which Robin is Robin-ing at the time, and what trauma Bruce happens to be going through. Is he going to be deeply supportive of his kids and attend their events and be both awkward and proud? Is he going to hit his kids? Who knows, certainly not DC writers.

(I'm of the opinion that Bruce Lost-His-Parents-At-A-Young-Age & Adopted-Kids-Like-Him-To-Build-A-Family-He-Didn't-Have-As-A-Child Wayne ABSOLUTELY should be a Good Parent[TM], albeit a bit Overprotective Dad. But there are only a handful of authors who follow this depiction)

[egophiliac]

Since book 7 part 5 (the part where we meet Meleanor/Maleanor 👀) is coming to EN this month, i would love to see your take on lilia’s proposal to meleanor! i mean they were like little kids right? it couldn’t have been that serious…i think the only reason she even brought it up again is because she could tell lilia still genuinely loved her…(even if he didn’t realize it himself?) but, oh well! Let’s think about silly childhood shenanigans to numb the pain! ^_^ (orz)

oh shit?! get ready for a doozy guys, it's comiiiiiing ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I chickened out of posting the whole thing (look, I get VERY carried away when it comes to these wacky kids and their Tragedy), but I do believe that it probably ended with Lilia getting embarrassed and just shoving the first thing he sees into his mouth to try and cover for it.

(we're just lucky it wasn't a frog this time)

[chloesimaginationthings]

What is the relationship between Michael and Gregory like?

I’d say like dysfunctional brothers

[bytebun]

found family coworkers (definition multiple) of all time [image description under cut]

Comic 1:

First panel, Ingo and Akari are standing together. Someone off-screen asks “oh, is that your dad?”. Akari has an awkward smile and replies “oh, no no. he’s my...” There’s a long pause as she looks at Ingo. He’s leaving it up to her. She finishes, “He’s my coworker... friend... guy.” In smaller font, she continues “yea. that.” Comic 2: A dramatic panel of Volo, looking pissed off, shouting “who are you to interfere?!!” Ingo tugs the brim of his cap lower. The upper half of his face is in shadow, while his eyes stand out. He looks threatening but has his expression is his characteristic neutral-frown, and he says “...I’m her coworker friend guy.”. In the final panel, Machoke is throwing an incredible amount of punches, a reference to Star Platinum from Jojo. Ingo is pointing with one hand, his battle pose. The background text reads, “What does that even mean??” Volo is experiencing off-screen violence.

Comic 3: The comic is titled “Reunion”. In the first panel, Ingo shows off Akari, with a faint smile on his face. She is labelled “best girl (assigned by god)”. He says, “Emmet, this is Akari, my coworker. She’s the reason I was able to return to this station.” In smaller font, Akari comments to herself, “ooh... so this is the man in white.”

In the second panel, in smaller font Ingo notes “I think I remember now...” He says, “Akari, this is Emmet. He's also my coworker.” Coworker is underlined. Emmet is crying in the background, looking confused, conflicted, distressed, and happy. He says, “Brother...?” In the final panel, we see a framed photograph of all three together. Underneath are the words, Employee of the Month. Akari is dressed as a depot agent, and she and Ingo pose with peace signs. Emmet is red faced from crying, but he’s smiling widely. He looks happy.

[plutonicbees]

season 1 tao's "once you get into a relationship, friendships don't matter anymore" vs season 2 charlie writing "charlie ♡ tao" on the heart locket + "wait, isn't that for you and nick?" "no."

sorry yeah I'm just lil emotional over the portrayal of platonic love as something that can be just as worthy as romantic love. i'm okay.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bros before Ho(oh my god is that Hanguang-Jun?)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[darkeneddawning]

Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn danyal al ghul au incorrect quotes - dpxdc au

Vlad and Danny, fighting for the nth time this month: Danyal, exhausted: hey if i call you dad will you like. Stop. I have a test tomorrow. Vlad, has a parental bone in EVERY part of his body: *immediately stopping* Vlad: What do you mEAN YOU HAVE A TEST. WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT-- Danny: BECAUSE YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL DR. FENTON AGAIN, VLADIMIR.

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

Danny, flopping into bed facefirst: i need sleep or rehab. again Tucker (maybe?? I haven't decided yet who he's friends with): i thought you were clean Danny, into a pillow: not if this keeps up.

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

Tucker: favorite superhero go Sam: Wonder Woman Danny: the Flash Tucker: Okay Sam's is obvious but, Danny I would've thought you'd say like, Martian Manhunter or Superman or Starfire. But Flash?? Danny: i had a foster in Central City for a few years and met him, he's a really nice guy. He made me promise to invite him to my high school graduation and is part of the reason I made it to rehab and ended up getting rehomed and picked up by the Fentons. Danny: I have a hoodie with his logo on it in my closet, i saved up to buy it and its the first thing I got with the allowance the Fentons got me

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

Danny wearing three layers and a scarf in the middle of summer: *shivering* Sam: how are you cold you're literally made of lava Danny, hissing: lava cools at contact with the air and I'm trying to keep my body temperature at a reasonable level, SAM. Tucker, touching Danny: you feel warm to me Danny: to YOU

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

Danny:...i could eat lava Tucker: Sam: Danny: Tucker: do it. no balls Danny, getting up: bET--

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

Danny: Dash: The Both Of Them: *under the bleachers to smoke/vape* Danny, smokes: I wont tell if you won't tell Dash, vapes: ....deal

-----------

Danny, breaking into Vlad's lab: YOU FUCKER QUIT-- what the hell is that Vlad, working on his newest invention: Language. ....And it's something I'm working on, go away Danny: what? no, fuck you. You're trying to kill Jack again and this looks interesting. I was gonna come beat you but now I'm curious what the hell this is (Vlad spends a good hour explaining what he's doing before they start arguing and Danny starts a fight)

------

Danny laying on the ground staring the ceiling, feeling like shit: Jazz, popping by his room: ,,,what'cha doing, Danny? Danny: Danny, internally: 'Jazz says i should be more open' Danny: considering the benefits of relapsing Jazz, immediately stepping into the room: oh okay so lets talk.

-----------

Danny, meeting Robin as Phantom for the first time unaware of his identity and his own birthright: Robin: Phantom: Phantom: fuck you Robin, a 12 year old: fUCK YOU

-----------

Vlad: Jack Fenton iced me out of my early adulthood and got you, his foster son, killed by his own invention. He is a danger to society and I personally want him dead. Danny: okay, cool motive still murder. Danny, louder: I DONT NEED YOU TO TAKE REVENGE ON MY BEHALF

-----------

Vlad, grabbing Danny's shoulders: aren't you tired of being nice Danny: Vlad: don't you want to go apeshit Danny, in the american foster system since infancy, was in rehab at 11 years old, has been fucked over metaphorically, emotionally, physically, ten times over: Danny: i feel like we need to have a talk

----------

DP/Regular DPDC Vlad: *gripping by the shoulders* DPDC Vlad: how Stillborn Vlad: what DP/DC Vlad: how are you getting him to like you. Stillborn Vlad:,,, well first off i don't torture him so jot that down Stillborn Vlad: second of all, like is a strong word. Stillborn Vlad: Daniel only likes me on tuesdays and when i show him how to make fireballs

[ramshacklerumble]

when your long distance senior boyfriend comes back for the sdc and gives you a ‘i missed you’ squeeze but he doesn’t reign in his strength also he’s like 3 inches taller since you last saw him and he’s tall enough already but you’re too touch starved to want him to let go despite the purple black dots swimming in your vision so you just figure this is it and if the end is to be found in his arms then you’d gladly walk into the though the gates of hell having known the kingdom of heaven

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@felix-cant-ski @nightwingshero @water-writings @welcometomypersonalhell098 (dm to be added)

[whydotheycallmechimney]

kind of tragic how dean puts all this responsibility onto himself to be sam’s protector, when the truth is sam has never once been safe. the biggest violation in his life happened when he was six months old, and nobody was there to protect him. and nothing anyone did afterwards could ever make up for that fact.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.

He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.

“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.

“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”

“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”

“Oh my gods.”

“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”

“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”

“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”

“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”

“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”

“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”

“Ugh.”

Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.

He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.

Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”

“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”

“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”

Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!

A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.

But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.

“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”

Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.

“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”

Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.

“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”

Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.

Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.

“Why’s it stupid?”

Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?

Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.

He’s never seen him cry.

Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”

The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.

“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”

He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.

Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”

Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”

“People like you?”

Percy nods.

Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.

“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”

The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.

“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”

“D’you hurt her?”

“…I scared her.”

“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”

“…What?”

Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”

“I —”

“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.

“She didn’t scare me, though.”

“Not even once?”

“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”

“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”

Percy tilts his head.

“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”

“Everyone has that.”

“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”

Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.

“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”

Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not, either.”

Nico blinks. “Huh?”

“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”

“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”

Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!

“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”

“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.

“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”

Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”

“No. You’ll still be annoying.”

He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”

Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —

Gods, they’re bad at this.

But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.

“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.

Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.

“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”

Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.

Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”

“So.”

Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.

(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)

“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”

“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”

“I literally hate you. Not joking.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”

“Disgusting.”

“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”

“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.

Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.

He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.

“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”

Nico flushes. “Shut up.”

“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”

“Shut up, Percy, gods.”

“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”

Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.

“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”

He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.

“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”

Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.

“Yes.”

“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”

Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”

“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”

“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”

“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”

Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.

“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”

“It hasn’t been?”

Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”

Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”

Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”

Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.

“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”

Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”

It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.

“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”

“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”

“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”

Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?

Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.

“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”

Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.

“How do I make him realise? Make him —”

Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”

Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.

“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”

Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.

———

next

[thefrsers]

requested by: @skatingthinandice: 7.02 + 7.08 "don't deserve a second chance" parallel

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

broke: haru hates akechi and doesn't talk to him ever again after he comes back

woke: haru chooses to be kind without forgiveness and akechi doesn't know how to live with her genuine compassion because it'd be so much easier if she hated him instead

[chloesimaginationthings]

So why is Vanny so determined to get on Michael's good side?

It’s mostly because every one on one interactions they’ve had so far has been negative pff