#proscrix

[doevademe]

Short prompt: What if Nico was a year older than Percy? When Annabeth, Thalia and Percy went to Westover Hall to look for the Di Angelo siblings and saw Nico checking his Mythomagic cards (even if he's 15 he is still a lovely freak) Percy's first thought was "I want to play with him" and the second was "OMG he is dark and cool" and he got so crushed by teen!Nico. And being the adorable Seaweed Brain idiot he is, the first thing he does is going near Nico and blurts: Hey, I'm Percy. Wanna dance with me? (Remember they were on the school dance) What happens next, I'll let you think~~

Percy was uncomfortable.

But he needed to be here. Grover had found a couple of demigods, siblings, and very powerful. The loud music filled the cheaply decorated gym as he, Annabeth, and Thalia shuffled awkwardly trying to blend in.

Usually, he got expelled before any big balls like homecoming or prom ever took place, and he felt really out of place among the 11-16 year olds just dancing to the music or hanging awkwardly by the punch table.

He really wanted to join that second group, but Grover was panicking, since he only caught sight of the older sibling, a girl that was sipping from her fruit punch and looked like she wanted to run away or go Carrie on the attendees.

"We might find the other one on the dance floor," Annabeth said. Her tone seemed to be hinting at something, but Percy, for the life of him, couldn't think of what.

"You and Grover can do that," Percy said distractedly, then he turned to Thalia, missing his best friend's frown. "Can you stay by the one we found? We don't want two missing demigods."

Thalia looked like she wanted to argue solely because Percy had proposed it, but bit her lip and nodded curtly.

"What about you?" Annabeth asked, looking intensely at him.

"I'll... look by the bleachers," Percy said. Anything to escape this atmosphere.

He ran away before Annabeth could protest, and once he was behind the bleachers almost tripped on a guy wearing tweed sitting on the floor, organizing a deck of cards.

"Is that... Poseidon?"

His father's visage was extremely accurate, as he swung his trident around while atop a chariot pulled by hippocampi.

"One of my favorites," the guy said back. "He gives the best terrain boons if you have the right deck."

Now Percy didn't know what the guy was talking about, but the way his velvety voice said it made his throat dry as if he was tossed in the middle of the desert.

"Oh, cool," was all he could say. The guy looked up and smiled at him. Percy froze. His eyes were dark like an abyss, and his pale complexion almost glowed from the reflection of the gym lights.

"You're also hiding," he stated simply. Percy could only nod. "Me too. My sister is far more social than me. She gave up on making me interact with others long ago."

"Um... I'm Percy, by the way," he said. And because he hadn't proved how lame he truly was yet, he added, "Wanna dance with me?"

The guy looked shocked before looking back at his hand full of cards. With the low lighting it was difficult to tell, but his cheeks may have turned slightly redder.

"Everyone would see..." He said so low it was almost lost to the music. "Do you... maybe want to stay here and... play with me?"

"Okay!" He said stupidly, not even hiding his excitement at sitting close to the guy. "I don't know how to play, though..."

The guy smiled again and beckoned him closer. Percy followed and sat down as if bewitched.

"It's okay, I can teach you," he said kindly, offering him some of the cards. "I'm Nico, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Nico."

Percy didn't know how much time passed as Nico explained the basics of Mythomagic (apparently it used both cards and figurines?), but he was entranced as this cool, older guy taught him how the game worked and a few tricks to the deck he had lent him.

"Okay, I think you're ready," Nico said finally as he set his deck down. "Let's start."

"Peercy!" Grover's familiar bleats interrupted them. Percy was about to look at him in annoyance when he noticed how panicked he looked. "The girl is... oh, you found Nico."

"You were looking for me?" Nico asked, and Percy remembered why he was here. The demigods. Chronos rising, make sure he didn't have more supporters.

"I... I guess I was," he managed to say. Nico looked bemused. "It's a bit of a long story, you see—"

"There's no time!" Grover interrupted again. "Dr Thorn! He... has Annabeth, and Bianca too! Thalia is going after them, but—"

"My sister?" Nico stood up, worried. "What does that creep want with her?"

"We'll explain later," Percy promised.

Despite being worried for Annabeth, a part of him was also excited. He could finally show Nico that he could be cool, too.

"Right now, we have a rescue to go to."

[ladytauria]

Hello! I'd like to know which type of prompts involving the Batboys do you accept please

i take both gen & ship prompts, sfw & nsfw!

for pairings i’m fine with most batkid/batkid ships—im most comfortable writing jaytim, jaysteph, jaydick, dicktim, & damitim, but i take/accept other combos too. (also poly pairings are good too!! idk how well i would do with anymore then 3 tho.)

i also like a handful of other ships like jayroy, timkon, joyfire, jaytimkon, etc. tho i’m not as confident in my characterizations so smut prompts may take. a long time xD

selfcest prompts are fine too, esp jay/jay.

as for bruce… currently not super comfortable writing him, but you can ask if you want. might inspire me xD

i hope that answers your question, but if you want anything clearer / need to know any thing else ask away <3

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Right now I'm on a real need of Percy/Will, so I'd like to ask for ❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜ with them. Just a gloomy Will and a cheery Percy who only wants to make his beloved sunshine to feel better. <3

An exaggerated frown.

A cheeky grimace.

A tinkling giggle.

A light press of lips on his cheeks, trying to cheer him up.

In spite of himself, he had to admit - it worked.

"I saw that!" Percy smirked, eyes glinting with mirth.

"What?" He frowned, pretending he wasn't charmed beyond belief by his silly little boyfriend.

"Your smile, Sunshine!"

"You imagine things," he denied it, but he should have know better. When Percy decided on something, he wouldn't rest until he did it.

In this case, until Will admitted, cheeks red with laughter, "I haven't laughed like this in a long time."

[ticklygiggles]

Hello. I'd like to know if you're open to a Horimiya tickle commission. And if it can be slightly NSFW.

Hello! I'm sorry but I'm not accepting commissions at the moment! 🥺 The one I posted was requested when I was accepting them 😄

[riisume]

Just found your blog! And if you have requests open for Genshin Impact what about Albedo investigating the non-human anatomy and testing Gorou to see if he has the same weak points the humans have? That means of course tickling his armpits until our cute dog boy turns into a laughing mess~

Hello! Sorry, requests are closed. Thank you for your interest, though! :)

[carrie-tate]

@proscrix You know what? You are right.

I also wanted to test out the new colored pencils, so this looks a little lame—

[g0thnico]

@proscrix

As incredible as it may seem, I already wrote before about Percy son of Hades and Nico son of Poseidon (not in the same universe, but almost)

[kayit-z]

Percy en este estilo a pedido de @proscrix <3

<- Nico

[avaetin]

This is the only prompt I could think about, but I think it's really cute and interesting. Percy bought Nico's aviator jacket in the Camp Store during TTC since they were in winter and Nico didn't have any winter clothes. Seeing how Nico treasured that jacket drove Percy to have the idea of giving him all his spare clothes from he was Nico's age. Sally is actually who suggested it to Percy after she met Nico in BoTL, and Nico was more than glad to accept his crush's clothes for his wardrobe ;)

For the one I care for most, Percy - Yellow Tulip

Pairings: Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson

Rating: G

Story Summary:

How Nico got his aviator jacket. (Prompt from @proscrix on Tumblr.)

Day 7 prompt: "Free Day"

For @percico-nicercy-events

[myreygn]

Hello! I'd like to request a tickle story with Bran Stark, Rickon Stark and Tommen Baratheon please~

cubs and pups

summary: Tommen doesn't like Winterfell when he first lays eyes on it but quickly finds himself warming up to the place and its people - especially Lord Stark's youngest sons and so he happily agrees when they invite him to play with them. What could possibly go wrong?

an: goddamn that took me way too long... i'm really sorry @proscrix, i hope you like what i came up with! (also please appreciate the title i'm really proud of it 😭)

wordcount: 3266 holy fu-

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There was something very dismal about Winterfell. Tommen couldn't quite put a finger on it but nevertheless, the feeling was there. In the gray of the walls, looming over him in a way that made him feel entrapped, even though he was out in the open; the dull clothes the people, even the Starks wore, designed to keep them warm rather than impress anyone; even in the way the Starks themselves looked at him, a way that made it abundantly clear that they viewed him as a child first and a prince second. Not that he could actually blame them for it, somehow he hadn't realized either that he was supposed to be above them all, but how could he when everyone always looked down on him? 

Well, not everyone. 

Tommen caught the gaze of the youngest Stark child (Rickon, he believed) who was looking up at him in complete awe. He seemed to be younger by a few years and the prince found himself wondering if maybe they could play together later. Did the northerners play the same games they played in King’s Landing? Would Rickon even want to play with him? He carefully smiled at the boy and felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders when Rickon returned the smile. So far so good.

For now though, there were other things to do. A formal greeting between his father and Lord Stark, then a more informal approach where his father went through all of Lord Stark’s children one after the other and told them how strong and beautiful they were and how they would make great knights and lords and ladies someday. Tommen felt a sting in his chest. If only his father ever told him he was going to be a great knight someday with the same twinkle in his eyes he had when he said it to Brandon. Was that jealousy? 

Tommen examined Brandon with narrow eyes. They were probably around the same age, with the other boy being noticeably taller and leaner, his dark hair gave him a much more adventurous appearance than Tommen with his golden locks could ever hope for. He was beaming with pride after receiving the King’s praise and despite the maybe-jealousy still stinging in his chest, the young prince could not for the life of him find it in him to dislike the other boy. He watched as Rickon looked up at Brandon and they exchanged a smile. Brandon was probably also a way better older brother than Joffrey.

Where was Joffrey anyway? Over there, making googly eyes at Lord Stark’s daughter. Fair enough, Tommen thought to himself, she was a true beauty. Maybe, he then thought, one day he could marry a girl just as beautiful, then he saw his mother whisper something into Joffrey’s ear and instinctively knew that whoever he was going to marry someday, it wasn’t going to be a Sansa Stark. No wonder Joffrey never found the time to be a good brother in between learning how to strut around like a rooster and trying to get under the skirts of beautiful girls. Tommen had no idea what it meant to get under someone’s skirt but his uncle Tyrion had said this one day and his other uncle Jaime had given the dwarf a slap in the back of his head and told him “Not in front of the children”, so Tommen had vowed to himself to never forget this sentence until he could understand what it meant. (Also the rooster part was funny, even though he wouldn’t dare to say that out loud to anyone aside from uncle Tyrion.)

A slight push to his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked directly into Myrcella’s slightly concerned eyes. The adults were done with greeting each other and giving compliments to children that weren’t Tommen and the whole group got ready to go inside the castle. He quickly caught up to Myrcella and tried to look for Rickon Stark, but the boy had vanished from his field of vision.

—

Winterfell was much nicer on the inside. Big chimneys and torches on the walls warmed up the great hall and gave it a welcoming feeling. It felt like a place that was a home to someone, not like Casterly Rock which felt more like a place people were forced to visit without any intention of staying longer than absolutely necessary - at least that was how Tommen felt whenever he had to go and see his grandfather Tywin.

Here it was very different though. Even from his place at the table that stood above all the other tables, he felt like a part of the crowd of laughing, drinking and singing northerners. Even stuck between his sister, who was half asleep, and his mother, who was more busy hawk eyeing Sansa Stark than anything, he was having a good time. Well, as good of a time as he could have anyway when everyone around him was getting more and more drunk as the evening dragged on.

He knew that he would be sent to his chambers immediately if he seemed even remotely tired and he didn’t want to leave just yet but at some point he just couldn’t hold the yawns in anymore. Almost immediately, his mother’s gaze was on him - for the first time that night and while that was nice for a change, he dreaded the following words before they even left her mouth: “You should go to bed, it’s quite late.”

Tommen looked around for help, feeling a tad bit hopeful when his gaze met with the understanding eyes of his uncle Jaime. “Oh come on Cersei, it’s a special night. Let the child enjoy it a little longer.”

“It’s way past sundown, Jaime,” his mother responded and something about her tone sent a chill down Tommen’s spine, but his uncle seemed entirely unbothered.

“We’re in the north, it’s always way past sundown.”

“Jaime.”

Silence, then his mother leaned forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, Tommen.” So his uncle had lost, bummer.

When he left the hall he felt Joffrey’s gloating stare in his back. The door closed behind him, then it was only his and Jaime’s steps walking away from the festivities. And the warmth. It was a lot colder out here.

“Sorry about that, lad. I tried to get you some more time.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” He gave his uncle a small smile and was about to reassure him that he had been getting bored anyway when a giggle somewhere down the corridor distracted him from the conversation. Before Jaime could stop him (maybe he wasn’t even trying) he hurried down the corridor to see where the sound came from. He hadn’t seen Rickon and Brandon all night, maybe they were-

“Hello.”

Startled, Tommen’s feet came to a halt abruptly and he nearly lost his balance. Big, blue eyes looked up at him, widening a little in shock.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“Rickon, what are you- oh.” Brandon Stark bowed his head, gesturing at his little brother to do the same. “Your Highness.”

“You don’t have to do that…” Tommen shuffled his feet nervously - he had never been a huge fan of people bowing their heads or getting on their knees before him, it just didn’t feel right. “What… what are you doing?”

“Oh, we were just playing.” Brandon still seemed a little cautious, as if Tommen were to order his execution if he took one simple misstep. It made his chest tighten; what would it take for Brandon to not be nervous around him anymore? How could he show that he had no intention to boss anyone around or-

“Do you want to join us?”

Rickon really had a talent for interrupting his spiraling thoughts and when Tommen looked at him, he was met with a genuinely hopeful expression - a pleasant counterpart to Brandon’s leeriness.

He was about to tell him that he would love to play with them, then he remembered he wasn’t alone and turned around to his uncle. “May I…?”

The corner of Jaime’s mouth twitched so slightly that Tommen was sure he wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t known the man all his life. “Your mother won’t hear it from me. But I’ll be back in an hour and then you will go to bed immediately.”

“Yes, promise!” Barely able to hide his excitement, he turned back to the Stark boys and quickly followed Rickon into the room when the younger boy grabbed his wrist and pulled him with him. Brandon shut the door, then it was only the three of them.

Tommen examined the room. A bed, covered in furs and blankets, a big chimney with a fire spreading warmth and a thick carpet with wooden figurines lying around. He sat down on the floor between the two brothers. “Brandon and Rickon, right?”

“Yes. You can say Bran though.” 

It had been a pure courtesy, but Tommen was glad he had asked - it made him happy to be allowed to address Bran by a nickname. Friends did that, right? Did that mean they were friends? A smile spread his lips. “Then you can just say Tommen. What were you playing?”

“Well, we were trying to play tournament, but Rickon won’t share the knight figurines!”

“Because these are mine!”

“But how are we gonna play tournament when I have no knights?!”

“Then that means you lose!”

“That’s not how it works!”

Tommen leaned back when Bran suddenly lunged forward and wrestled Rickon into the carpet, then the younger boy squeaked and started to thrash around. “Braaan!”

Tommen narrowed his eyes. Was Bran- “W-wait, what are you doing?! Leave him alone!”

Rickon stopped laughing when Bran took his fingers off his sides and both of them were looking at him with nearly identical grins. “Why? Would you rather get a taste of this yourself?”

Before the prince could react, Rickon cried out “Charge!” and suddenly they were all over him; Bran held one of his arms in a vice grip and dug his fingers into his armpit, meanwhile Rickon relentlessly squeezed his midsection. A reluctant laugh escaped Tommen’s mouth. This was not good… he had to get out of here or else he’d be stuck here all night… maybe uncle Jaime would even walk in on him crying, just like the Septa did back when it happened in King’s Landing, that would be so embarrassing…

He remembered Joffrey quite literally ambushing him in his chambers in the early morning, jumping up on his bed and pinning him down while tickling him everywhere he could reach. The prodding to his hips, the scribbles all over his ribs and tummy, the squeezes to his sides… yes, he remembered it all too well. He remembered that it had been painful rather than ticklish, remembered how he had screamed louder and louder for Joffrey to let go of him and how his brother had seemed to care less and less by the second, how he had begun to cry only for Joffrey to tell him ‘Don’t be a baby, we’re just having fun’.

Fun. Maybe, he had wondered for a while, Joffrey was right. When the Septa had come into the room and Joffrey had explained that they were just having a little tickle fight, she too had said ‘Why are you crying, Prince Tommen? Tickling is supposed to be fun’. Maybe, he had thought, he was the problem, maybe he just didn’t know how to have fun with tickling and that was the reason so it didn’t work, but then again, Joffrey having fun and Tommen getting hurt (or anyone getting hurt, really) weren’t mutually exclusive situations.

Tommen felt his chest tighten and his own laughter began to sound like that of a stranger. He knew this was supposed to be fun, but he didn’t want this. All he had wanted was to have fun with some potential new friends and now he was gonna be stuck here for hours, getting tortured. Maybe Bran was just as horrible of an older brother as Joffrey then. Tears started to clock up his throat. And then, to his great surprise, the tickling… stopped.

“Tommen? Are you alright?”

Rickon gave him a worried look and Tommen hastily sat up, not wanting to seem weak in front of the Stark boys. “I’m fine…”

“Did we overstep?” Bran looked somewhat mortified at the thought of having upset the prince. “We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… we thought it’d be fun.”

Tommen pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew that this would make him look like a little baby, but honestly, it made him feel better right now and for a moment that was the only thing that mattered. “I just don’t understand… how can it be fun if people get hurt?”

The brothers glanced at each other, confused. “Hurt?” Rickon tilted his head to the side as if the situation would become somehow clearer. “What do you mean, hurt? I mean, I guess it could happen… one time Jon kicked Robb in the chest, but I think that was an accident.”

“What Rickon is trying to say,” Bran chipped in from the side when Tommen opened his mouth to ask what tickling and kicking people in the chest had to do with each other, “is that sometimes you can get hurt when you’re tickling someone and play fighting, but tickling isn’t supposed to hurt.”

“It- it isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t! See, it’s fun.” Bran quickly wiggled his fingers into Rickon’s side and the younger boy let out a bright giggle. “Why would it be supposed to hurt?”

“Well, when Joffrey did it-”

“Joffrey?! Prince Joffrey?! What did he do?!”

Tommen knew very well that the majority of the worry in Bran’s expression probably came from the fact that Joffrey was most likely going to marry his sister, but something about it still made him feel safe. As if the Stark brothers would be on his side, unlike Joffrey, unlike the Septa, and so he told them everything. Rickon was the first to speak up.

“But that is so mean! Why would he do that?!”

“Maybe he is just a mean person.” Bran softly caressed his brother’s hair, seemingly in shock. “But that’s really… I mean, the rules to tickling are unspoken, I suppose, but even so one of the rules is to stop immediately if the other person doesn’t want to be tickled…”

Tommen only wrapped his arms around himself and grasped onto his shirt, just to hold onto something. “Joffrey doesn’t know the rules then.”

“But we know the rules!” Rickon seemed determined to raise the spirit. “Maybe you could let us tickle you, we can show you that it’s fun!”

Bran looked at his brother as if he was about to scold him, then his gaze turned towards the prince instead, rather curiously. “Would you… let us do that?”

Tommen considered his options. He could just say No and they wouldn’t do it. They would respect that he didn’t want it to happen. They could just play something else and he’d be able to avoid this experience - or he could say Yes. If they’d accept his No now, they would also accept it later. Tommen had spent countless nights at the table next to his father, listening to him swoon over how honorable and honest of a man Lord Eddard Stark was and if that same Lord Eddard Stark’s sons claimed there were rules to tickling, he was sure they’d follow those rules at all times.

He nodded carefully. “You can do it… but carefully…”

“Of course!” To say that Rickon was beaming would’ve been an understatement, but Tommen couldn’t think of a better word before the younger boy latched onto his sides, squeezing away.

A giggle slipped out of his mouth and he quickly pressed his arms to his sides. He didn’t want it to stop just yet, wanted to see where it would go, but he couldn’t help it, it just really tickled. It didn’t hurt though. Tommen felt the slightest bit of tension fade away.

“Don’t block us out now!” Bran’s eyes glittered as he wiggled his fingers past Tommen’s arms, scratching at his ribs and making the prince squeak. “How are we supposed to tickle you if you cover up all the good spots?” There was a teasing undertone to his voice that would’ve sounded cruel and mean coming from Joffrey but out of Bran’s mouth it sounded… nice. Like they were having fun.

Tommen let out another giggle. He was having fun. “Buhut it tihickles-”

“Yes, that’s the point!” Rickon laughed and moved from his sides to his tummy. Tommen doubled over with a shriek and the younger boy’s eyes lit up. “Bran, I found a gold spot!”

“Good work, Ser Rickon! The defenses are crumbling!”

“AIHEE- Brahahahan!” Tommen squealed, curling in on himself. It was no use trying to protect his torso; Rickon relentlessly prodded and poked at his tummy and Bran’s fingers had wormed their way up into his armpits. It would probably be smart to try and push him off but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his arms - it just tickled too much. All he could do was lie on the carpet and laugh and it was fun.

“Are you alright?” Rickon grinned widely when the prince nodded. “Good!” He wiggled a finger into his belly button. “Then I can try this!”

“Gahahads, Rickohohon! Nahahat theheheere!” Tommen felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. As much fun as this was- “Ihi cahan’t, I cahahan’t, stahahap! Plehehease!”

Immediately all four hands let go of him and Tommen felt warmth spread in his chest. They stopped. He told them to stop and they did it. So this was why it was supposed to be fun.

Rickon scooted a little closer and tried to catch a glimpse of Tommen’s face. “Are you still alriHIG- hehehehey! Brahahan, nohoho!”

Tommen blinked at the younger boy who was giggling and squirming on the ground, then he looked up at Bran who had his hands buried under Rickon’s arms and grinned back at him. “Do you want to help?”

“Nohoho, dohon’t hehehelp him!”

Tommen hesitated for a moment, then carefully extended his hand to give Rickon’s knee a little scratch when Bran sent an encouraging nod his way. Rickon let out a shriek and tried to pull his leg in but Tommen quickly grabbed his ankle to hold it still. He was getting used to this.

“You know you deserve this, Rickon!” Bran did his best to sound threatening but he couldn’t hide his joking undertone. “That’s what you get when you don’t share your toys!”

“Buhut thehese ahahare mihINEEK! ALRIHIHIGHT I GIHIVE! I GIHIHIVE!”

Tommen watched in fascination as Bran took his fingers off Rickon’s neck and briefly wondered how many times they must have done this for Bran to have such good knowledge on how to get Rickon to give up immediately. He caught himself smiling at the sight of Rickon lunging at Bran with a battle cry and starting to squeeze his sides, drawing an uncharacteristic cackle out of his older brother.

“Come on Tommen, help me! He needs a taste of his own medicine!”

Tommen took Bran’s wrists to pull them up, grinning down at him when he was met with a squeal of betrayal. How he could’ve ever thought about Winterfell as a dismal place was beyond him.

[doevademe]

Hello! Here's my prompt for Our Days Together:

The short story with Nico being de-aged inspired me, so what about if Percy is turned back to his childhood, maybe 9-10 years old, being again the lonely, angry and troublemaker kid he always was, and 14 years old Nico has to take care of him? I think this could have the angst moments you couldn't do with Nico ;)

"Why are you still here?" Percy asked, voice high-pitched as he glared at Nico. "I told you I want to be alone!"

Nico sighed. He would be the first to admit he didn't know Percy as well as he could have (or as well as he once wished to), but he knew enough about being young, scared, and angry at the world to recognize the signs.

"I would let you be, but you're under my care until you're back to normal," he said as diplomatically as he could.

"And I keep asking, what is that supposed to mean?" he asked petulantly. "I am normal! Is this Ms. Wright's new idea to make me behave?"

Nico raised an eyebrow. Apparently Percy's list of awful teachers din't begin (or end) with Alecto.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Percy," he said seriously. "You're fine just the way you are."

"That's what all the teachers say at first," he mumbled. "Then I keep getting bad grades, or stuff explodes, or I get blamed for being bullied. Then they say what they really think."

Nico hesitated. This was a Percy from before he found out he was a demigod. There was really no way to convince him he was in a safe place, no person he knew or trusted.

"I could drop you off with your mom, if you want," he offered. "Maybe it would be easier on you."

It would be difficult to explain why his mother was pregnant and why he had a new stepfather, but maybe Percy would be more comfortable with a familiar face he trusted.

But Percy clammed up and started squirming.

"I'll stay," he said uneasily. "Just... don't tell her I'm being difficult."

Nico blinked. Did Percy think he was threatening him? Just what kind of childhood did he have?

"Okay, let's start from the beginning," Nico said, wondering once again why Annabeth wasn't looking after her boyfriend. "Where do you think you are, Percy?"

"Summer school," he said, but he sounded doubtful now. "You're the tutor I got assigned, because the teachers already consider me a lost cause."

"Not exactly," he said, wondering what he could tell Percy. If only Will wasn't swamped with work. "I'm here to help you out, Percy. Nothing you say will reach your mom, Mrs. Wright, or anyone else."

It was better if he didn't tell Percy the truth. He was scared and lashing out. Nico needed to treat him like he wished he had been treated back when he lost Bianca.

Percy narrowed his eyes.

"Other shrinks have said the same thing," he said. "The teachers always ended up knowing."

"But I'm not a shrink," Nico replied. "I'm barely older than you, and I'm just here for you to vent, about anything."

Percy stayed quiet for a while.

"I love blue," he said experimentally. Nico nodded. "My stepfather hates it, but mom and I love it."

"That's good," Nico said.

"It's our way of rebelling against him," he admitted after a while. "I... I don't want to make things harder on mom, so I always act like asking for blue things is my idea, even when it's not."

"Does he get angry when you ask for blue stuff?"

"Oh, Smelly Gabe gets angry about everything," Percy said simply. "But I prefer him being angry at me than at mom."

Nico chuckled.

"Smelly Gabe," he repeated. "Nice."

Percy smiled for the first time. He shuffled so he was closer to Nico.

"The guy is awful!" he complained. "I swear, the only good thing about boarding school is not having to see him for 9 months!"

Percy rubbed his arm, and Nico guessed he was remembering something bad this Smelly Gabe person had done to him. Nico didn't need to ask.

"You hate school?" He asked, knotting his brows. Why was Percy so intent on attending NRU if he hated education?

"I hate teachers," Percy said. "They all treat me like I'm stupid, and say I'm a lost cause. I've never even been to the same school two years in a row."

Nico couldn't help himself. Depite his aversion for physical contact, he got closer to Percy and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Their loss," he said. "I've just been talking to you for a few minutes, and I can tell you're quite smart."

Percy blushed before giving him the brightest smile his 9 year old self could give.

"I like you a lot, Nico," he declared. Nico was surprised the boy had remembered his name. Earlier he had seemed intent in not acknowledging anything he said. "But you don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying," Nico said honestly. "You can read people quite well. You can get out of any trouble you find yourself in. The teachers are wrong. You are smart."

Percy turned redder with each compliment. He shuffled closer and closer to Nico until he was practically on his lap.

"I've never kissed anyone," he whispered. Nico's eyes widened.

"Huh?"

"Y-you said I could tell you anything," he said quickly, nervously. "I just... wanted to tell you."

And despite the fact that this Percy was a child, Nico found his heart thundering in his chest. Was this young Percy...?

No, don't be ridiculous. Percy was straight. Being a child didn't change that fact.

"Well, you're young," Nico said awkwardly. "It will come one day."

Percy sighed and got away from him.

"I'm hungry," he said. "Can we go eat something?"

"Sure," he said offering his hand. Percy looked at it for a second and took it, squeezing it tightly. "Is a burger okay?"

"And coke?" he asked hopefully.

"Blue coke if you want," he said. Percy grinned.

They went out to the cafeteria. The other campers had been informed of Percy's curse, but even then they turned to look at him curiously.

"You'll stay with me all summer right," Percy asked once Nico was back with his food. Nico nodded. "Then this will be the best summer ever!"

And Nico smiled at him, making him blush again.

Nico wondered what was up with that.

[umirage]

I'm helping a friend of mine with his commissions 💖💖💖He's an excellent writer you're gonna love his work 😉 guaranteed!

All info 👇

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Also if it's ok to ask more than one prompt I'd like ❛ i’m not giving up on you. ❜ also with Percy and Will <3

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Press. Press. Press. Count to thirty.

No breathing.

Repeat.

"I'm not giving up on you," Percy hissed, clenching his jaw, repeating the procedure.

Again.

"Percy, just stop, you can't-" Annabeth yelled, but he drowned out. No. He couldn't accept it.

He wouldn't accept it.

Again.

A broken cough. Raspy breath and fluttering eyelashes.

"Thank gods," Percy whispered, dizzy with relief, as he fell onto the spluttering blonde.

"...Watch out, it will fall down," Will laughed painfully, finishing Percy's scream, the last thing he heard before passing out.

Percy laughed-sobbed, "You are an idiot."

"Yours, though."

"Mine."

[neo-kid-funk]

Awww Loki thanks for tagging me!!

Ya'll should listen to this song!!! It's been my favorite song for the past 3 years!! I listen to it at least once a day!

Tagging: @rafyki @proscrix @aftonunknown5472

i found a cool tag game on twitter and i really wanna import it (o^ ^o)

this picrew + the last song you listened to :]

no pressure tags: @blood-loving-leech @overtaken-boredom @lesbianthatyaps @kameonerd566 @hexedvampire @laczki @anonymous-shxtposter @fleurafae @flovqy + anyone who wants to do it <3

[carrie-tate]

@proscrix dude, your luck, you... Like, you read my mind xD

I actually draw it 👀

[myreygn]

It’s cold, isn’t it?

summary: Winter is eternal and Bran wants nothing more than to go back to how life used to be in Winterfell. But home is something different now and warmth can be found even beyond the wall.

an: my first game of thrones commission for @proscrix! i’m really sorry that it took me so long, but i’m really happy with how it turned out and i pray to the old gods you like it too. i’ve never written for bran and jojen before, but i had more fun with it than i thought i would, thanks again for commissioning! <3

wordcount: 2173

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Even after traveling behind the wall for over a week, it was still a strange feeling to wake up surrounded by snow and ice. Bran knew that it was stupid, but a part of him still expected to wake up in a warm bed in Winterfell, to get dressed and run downstairs, only to be scolded by his mother for not wearing his clothes properly. To sit down at the breakfast table next to Robb and have his hair ruffled, to throw food across the table into Aryaʼs face and to quickly stuff his mouth with everything within reach when he was called to archery practice, all while a fire was dancing in the chimney and warming him from behind.

Bran shivered and sat up. That was all in the past. Winterfell was not his home anymore. Robb and his mother had left him behind. He had not seen Arya in months. And the rest of his family was the Gods know where. Or dead. Another shiver ran down his spine, not because of the cold this time, and Bran took a sip from his flask, trying to keep himself calm. The past was in the past and to break himself apart over something he could not change was no solution for anything.

“Close the flask and put it away before it turns into a block of ice.”

Bran flinched at the sudden interruption of his spiraling thoughts and looked up. Jojen sat across from him, his hands rubbing against each other and the tiniest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. There was a fire between them which Meera must have put up while Bran had been asleep. She was not in the small cave they had chosen as their camp and her weapons were missing, so she was probably out hunting. Summer was lying next to him, cuddled up in a bunch of furs and snoring. Bran closed the flask and put it away. “Where's Hodor?”

“Outside, on watch.”

Bran nodded and began to imitate Jojenʼs hand movements, making the older boy chuckle softly. “Itʼs cold, isnʼt it?”

“You donʼt say.”

Jojen chuckled again, then he wrapped himself in one of the furs and stood up, struggling to keep his balance on the soft underground for a moment, before walking over and sitting down next to Bran. “I hope you donʼt mind?”

Bran smiled and lifted his blanket so Jojen could crawl under. “Of course not.”

Despite them cuddling up to each other, it was still freezing. Bran put his hands up to his face in the desperate attempt to bring some feeling back into it. The cold burned slightly and he swore he could see his breath turn to ice mid-air, although deep down he knew that this was nonsense. Maybe he was finally going insane. Out here, where everything was either white, gray, or a little bit of both, it really was more a question of when than if. Had it not been crazy enough when he had tasted the warm blood of deer on his lips without ever having been out for a hunt? When he had left his home and all he knew behind, just to get away from a man he had thought of as a brother? When he had woken up one day, unable to feel his legs and knowing that something terrible had happened? Another shiver shook his body, and then another, and then-

“Bran?! Are you alright?!”

Bran turned his head to where the voice was coming from and his gaze slowly focused on the worried expression on Jojenʼs face. He was still shivering. It was still cold. This was still not home. “I want to go home,” a voice whispered over the howling of the wind outside and it took him just a tad too long to realize that the voice was his own.

“I know.” Jojen put a hand on his shoulder, carefully, as if he was afraid to cross a boundary which he very well knew did not exist. Then, when Bran showed no sign of further discomfort (because there was none, obviously), Jojen wrapped his arms around his torso and pulled him in for the first hug in ages. The first hug ever since they split up with Rickon and Osha. Had it been ages? Surely not, but time lost all meaning in eternal winter. Bran swallowed back tears, despite the fact that it made his throat feel sore. Never before had he missed his brother with such an intensity.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that.”

A sharp breath escaped Bran when he felt Jojen’s fingers curl into his side and he could almost hear the smirk in his friend’s voice; “There is no crying on my watch, Lord Stark.”

“What are you-”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me that you’ve never been tickled before. You and I both know that would be impossible with older siblings around. I picked up a thing or two from mine.”

He was right, of course. Bran had spent plenty of time buried under Robb, Jon, or both, laughing his head off and pleading for mercy. But to say that the touches to his side, the urge to break out into giggles, and the smugness in Jojen’s voice felt familiar would have been a lie. It felt vaguely familiar at best, like the echo of an echo, like something too long gone to be remembered clearly.

Bran felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards when Jojen gave his sides a squeeze. Another squeeze, and another, and another. A giggle slipped from Bran’s lips. Vaguely familiar was still familiar.

“I heard that!” Jojen grinned triumphantly at the soft squeaks his squeezes drew out of his friend. “But I’m actually looking for the laughs… where do I find the laughs, Bran?”

“D-don’t tehease me!”

“I am not teasing, I am just asking some honest questions. But you already answered them, so there’s no need to get worked up over this.”

Jojen’s fond smile alongside his soft tone somehow managed to make the tickling worse. Bran had never been the one with the greatest stamina when it came to tickle fights with his siblings, but Jojen had cracked him unusually fast. It was probably at least partly due to his fingers clawing into Bran’s stomach, which had always been a particularly sensitive spot, but maybe, he thought, he had just unlearned keeping himself together. It made him sad to think that it was possible to unlearn something as silly and fun as tickling, but Jojen did not grant him a lot of time to dwell on this sadness.

“What did I tell you? I told you there’s no crying on my watch!”

Bran squeaked when Jojen pushed his hands under his shirt; he did not touch bare skin, simply due to the amount of layers they were both wearing, but there was still significantly less protection and Bran curled in on himself, desperate to escape the sensation, but at the same time made no effort to push Jojen off. He could not even tell why. Maybe because of the contact, the closeness to his friend. Maybe because of the much needed relaxation coming along with the fun. Maybe because of the warmth spreading in his chest.

“Noho, not the- ack! Johojen!”

“What is it?” The older boy smiled, innocently prodding Bran’s navel and holding onto his side with the other hand so that he could not bend away. Not that it was necessary; Bran was hanging in his arms more than he was sitting, red-faced from something else than the cold for a change (and if that was not a wonderful turn of events) and his mouth stretched into a wider smile than Jojen had ever seen from him.

“Plehehease! Jojen, nahat- plehease-”

Jojen slowed down a little and moved his hands to his friend’s sides. “Alright, alright. I suppose I could stop, now that you’ve given me the laughter I was looking for.”

For a few seconds, nothing but Bran’s breathy giggles cut through the sound of the wind howling outside, then the younger boy softly cleared his throat. “You… you can continue, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Do you really mean that?” Even though Jojen had not expected Bran to dislike the tickling in the first place, judging by how little resistance he put up, somehow hearing this from him brought an excited smile to his face. It had been too long since he and Meera had shared a moment like this.

“Yes.” Bran sat up and looked at him. His cheeks were still flushed pink, but there was a mischievous spark in his eyes - not unwelcome, but unexpected. “But only if you let me do this.”

“Let you do whaAHT!” It was more reflex than intention that made Jojen wrap his arms around his torso and he stared at Bran in shock, his lips twitching. “How did you-”

“You told me.” Bran smirked up at him, putting his hands out to smugly rest on Jojen’s hips. “If you picked up a thing or two from your big sister, there must be spots on you for Meera to torment you with.”

“N-now hohold on-” Jojen could not help but feel giddy; Bran’s hands resting on his sides were enough to make him nervous and his stomach made a flip at the thought of them moving to tickle him, but it was an excited flip rather than a nervous one. He had not expected Bran to adapt to the situation so quickly, but he should probably not be surprised - Bran was an older sibling too, after all.

Which did not mean that his heart was not pounding in his chest right now. He had never been much of an active threat during the Stark tickle fights, or not on his own, at least, and to have Jojen squirm under him without doing anything yet was a feeling of power he was simply not used to. How far could he go? How would he know when it was enough? Would Jojen tell him, or was he supposed to recognize the line on his own?

Bran looked up at Jojen. His friend was biting his lip to prevent a smile from spreading across his face and he was gripping tightly onto his shirt. He did not seem to be nervous, he seemed to brace himself for what was to come, something which he had accepted, something which he was maybe even looking forward to. Only one way to find out.

“Ah, Brahan! Ihit tihickles!”

“That’s the point, Jojen.” Bran kept kneading his friend’s sides, getting a little more courageous as he went on. “And you started it, so you deserve this.”

Jojen threw his head back, full on cackling when the tickling moved down to his hips, and it was probably the loudest and most unhinged Bran had ever seen him. He never would have even brought the imagery of cackling in connection with Jojen if he was not here right now, watching and hearing him actually do it, because there was really no other way to describe it.

A jab to his stomach pulled Bran back into the here and now and he flinched away for a moment, but he immediately got back to prodding and squeezing at Jojen’s hips. “I won’t go down that easily!”

Jojen’s face was flushed bright red and a tear pricked at the corner of his eye, but he was smiling, laughing, he looked happy, and Bran found himself unable to mind the clumsy, yet persistent tickling of his navel. “Mehe neitheher!”

Bran felt himself get lost in the tickle fight only after a few more seconds. It had been too long since he had done something this silly and it almost felt like traveling back in time. Jojen’s hips were just as sensitive as Jon’s. His laugh sounded just like Robb’s. He tended to kick his legs when Bran hit a particularly ticklish spot, just like Arya. And when their hands finally slowed to a stop, both with huge smiles on her face, the cave had become a home, just the way Winterfell used to be with all of his siblings around.

“Thank you.” Jojen laid down, pulling the furs over both of them. “For doing this, I mean. I think I really needed this.”

Bran smiled. “Me too. So… thank you for initiating this.”

Whatever Jojen wanted to say to that, maybe thank Bran for the trust or the friendship, was cut off by Meera and Hodor barging into the cave, both covered in snow and Meera carrying a dead hare over her shoulder. “How are you guys? Hey, Hodor, take the hare for a second, will ya?” Meera brushed the snow off her clothes and dropped herself on the opposite side of the fire, looking at the boys. “Damn, I’m freezing… it’s cold, isn’t it?”

Bran felt his lips curl into a smile and without looking, he knew that Jojen’s were too.

“No. Not at all.”