it's only when i hit the ground it causes all the grief
song for a scribbled-down name
percy jackson & the olympians (luke/percy)
set post-the lightning thief, with movie-verse leanings
inspired by this song
Luke dreams about falling.
Luke dreams about falling.
It's the same dream he's had since he was a kid-- he soars through clear skies on winged feet, strong and free, until- the clouds above darken, a cruel wind begins to blow and the wing beats start to weaken, fluttering feebly until they stop entirely.
And he drops.
The fall is sickening, disorienting. At times he swears he feels the fine bones of his hands and feet break in the wind.
He plummets interminably, every night for 19 years-- wakes in a sweat, feeling ill-rested every morning-- but still, no impact.
People say that if you die in your dreams, you die in life. But what does Luke have to fear of death now? What appeal does life hold anymore?
When he'd first come to Camp Halfblood, he'd read everything he could, asked around. Thought maybe Morpheus might've cursed him, might've been pissed at Luke’s dad over some petty god grudge. He'd even hoped that Morpheus was just being a bastard, torturing Luke simply because he could. No such luck, according to the Oracle (who told him other, terrible things, things he doesn't think about anymore.)
This nightmare is of his own making. Luke can't imagine hating himself so much.
And finally, here where there's nothing to do but wait and dream, it changes.
A slide sideways, including something that startles Luke so much the first time it appears that he gasps awake having barely begun his fall. Something he's never done before.
He's soaring, that blessed feeling of being in flight, his birthright, until it drops down in front of him, a pair of trembling winged Converse stuttering into view. A person.
From then on, in slight ways each time he sleeps, the dream shifts.
Once, he supports someone, holding them tight to his chest as he flies, only for his grip to weaken, to feel them slip away, and he comes tumbling after. Still falling.
Another time, someone falls with him, body curled into his as they drop unendingly.
Each dream, however different, shares one consistency-- this other person, whose presence at once comforts and confuses Luke, infuriates and compels him. Dreaming is a private act, something that shouldn't be shared. And Luke was never very good at sharing anyway.
He'd grown-- if not comfortable, then accustomed to his falling dream (nightmare). Something to rely on whenever he dropped off to sleep. But now the dream is tumult and stress, a knot in his gut, a shortness of breath. He feels-- you couldn't call it fear-- no, something more akin to anticipation.
Bring it on, you motherfucker, Luke thinks to himself.
The next time the dream comes, there's no one with him in the sky. He soars unencumbered, tells himself he's relieved at the temporary reprieve from the turmoil this stranger brings.
When the fall comes this time, the figure still doesn't appear, no blur of hair or shadowed face as he drops, for hours, for days maybe, not even a battered pair of ruined Converse in sight. The knot in his stomach grows, becomes actual stomach pains as he feels the familiar slashes of windburn, first on his face and then all the exposed skin of his body.
His eyes are unfocused, as near to sleep as he can get in a dreaming state, still falling, always falling, when he sees a blur below him. Finally, Luke thinks. The other.
After having someone around to spice things up, falling alone seemed surprisingly intimidating. Dull even.
But nothing bumps into him, no bone crushing impact with another falling object (person) and the blur ahead grows ever larger, impossibly large. Something new.
Luke struggles to focus his eyes in the dark. And that's when it hits him.
Or rather, he hits it.
The crash of freezing cold weight goes unnoticed as his blood explodes with elation, something akin to ecstasy. This is it-- what he's been falling toward for as long as he can remember. For his entire life, maybe.
His point of impact.
The heaviness is all around him, triumph shoving the air out his lungs. Luke's never felt anything like this before, a feeling of freedom greater than even what he gets from flying. He strikes out at the space around him; an expression of victory made sluggish by what he is slowly realizing is--
Water.
Frigid, pulsing, hungry water, freezing down to the marrow of his bones and pulling him in hungrily. And he knows then-- he's still falling. He hasn't stopped, only slowed. And Luke knows that even in a dream, he has to breathe.
The ball of fear in his stomach unfurls then, into full-on panic spreading into his lungs. They feel as though they're shrinking, shriveling up like rotting fruit pits. He wastes energy struggling uselessly against gravity, against the water of the ocean around him. He knows now: he'll fall eternally, in an endless agony for breath, for air.
Luke stops fighting, knows there's no use. It's been coming for him forever.
And that's when, clear as though there was some sun to pierce the waves and illuminate the water, Luke sees him--
Someone moving fluidly through the water like it isn't there at all, curving over Luke's body like the current. Someone who presses their lips against his, filling his starving lungs with air. Breathing for him. Soft, pale skin and sea blue eyes.
Percy.
And Luke wakes.
The first piece of fiction I've completed in almost a year and-- just like the last-- it's about nightmares. Someone's projecting their sleep issues, that much is clear. The first line of this story flew into my head when I was watching this film but I couldn't move forward from there until yesterday, when this sort of just poured out of me. There isn't much of a basis for Percy/Luke in canon, but for some reason I'm completely taken with them. And unlike your standard hero-villain love/hate pairing, something about them has me completely gooey and romantic. Luke PINES for a Percy a lot, I just get that sense. Anyway, the writing of this is informed by the film (because gross, writing fic about 12 year olds) and the first novel, as well as knowledge of Luke's overall arc through the series. Also the F+tM track I linked to above. I questioned whether or not to bring Kronos into this explicitly, but I've decided to leave it ambiguous whether or not the dreams come from him. Decide for yourself!
percy jackson & the olympians (luke/percy)
set post-the lightning thief, with movie-verse leanings
inspired by this song
Luke dreams about falling.
Luke dreams about falling.
It's the same dream he's had since he was a kid-- he soars through clear skies on winged feet, strong and free, until- the clouds above darken, a cruel wind begins to blow and the wing beats start to weaken, fluttering feebly until they stop entirely.
And he drops.
The fall is sickening, disorienting. At times he swears he feels the fine bones of his hands and feet break in the wind.
He plummets interminably, every night for 19 years-- wakes in a sweat, feeling ill-rested every morning-- but still, no impact.
People say that if you die in your dreams, you die in life. But what does Luke have to fear of death now? What appeal does life hold anymore?
When he'd first come to Camp Halfblood, he'd read everything he could, asked around. Thought maybe Morpheus might've cursed him, might've been pissed at Luke’s dad over some petty god grudge. He'd even hoped that Morpheus was just being a bastard, torturing Luke simply because he could. No such luck, according to the Oracle (who told him other, terrible things, things he doesn't think about anymore.)
This nightmare is of his own making. Luke can't imagine hating himself so much.
And finally, here where there's nothing to do but wait and dream, it changes.
A slide sideways, including something that startles Luke so much the first time it appears that he gasps awake having barely begun his fall. Something he's never done before.
He's soaring, that blessed feeling of being in flight, his birthright, until it drops down in front of him, a pair of trembling winged Converse stuttering into view. A person.
From then on, in slight ways each time he sleeps, the dream shifts.
Once, he supports someone, holding them tight to his chest as he flies, only for his grip to weaken, to feel them slip away, and he comes tumbling after. Still falling.
Another time, someone falls with him, body curled into his as they drop unendingly.
Each dream, however different, shares one consistency-- this other person, whose presence at once comforts and confuses Luke, infuriates and compels him. Dreaming is a private act, something that shouldn't be shared. And Luke was never very good at sharing anyway.
He'd grown-- if not comfortable, then accustomed to his falling dream (nightmare). Something to rely on whenever he dropped off to sleep. But now the dream is tumult and stress, a knot in his gut, a shortness of breath. He feels-- you couldn't call it fear-- no, something more akin to anticipation.
Bring it on, you motherfucker, Luke thinks to himself.
The next time the dream comes, there's no one with him in the sky. He soars unencumbered, tells himself he's relieved at the temporary reprieve from the turmoil this stranger brings.
When the fall comes this time, the figure still doesn't appear, no blur of hair or shadowed face as he drops, for hours, for days maybe, not even a battered pair of ruined Converse in sight. The knot in his stomach grows, becomes actual stomach pains as he feels the familiar slashes of windburn, first on his face and then all the exposed skin of his body.
His eyes are unfocused, as near to sleep as he can get in a dreaming state, still falling, always falling, when he sees a blur below him. Finally, Luke thinks. The other.
After having someone around to spice things up, falling alone seemed surprisingly intimidating. Dull even.
But nothing bumps into him, no bone crushing impact with another falling object (person) and the blur ahead grows ever larger, impossibly large. Something new.
Luke struggles to focus his eyes in the dark. And that's when it hits him.
Or rather, he hits it.
The crash of freezing cold weight goes unnoticed as his blood explodes with elation, something akin to ecstasy. This is it-- what he's been falling toward for as long as he can remember. For his entire life, maybe.
His point of impact.
The heaviness is all around him, triumph shoving the air out his lungs. Luke's never felt anything like this before, a feeling of freedom greater than even what he gets from flying. He strikes out at the space around him; an expression of victory made sluggish by what he is slowly realizing is--
Water.
Frigid, pulsing, hungry water, freezing down to the marrow of his bones and pulling him in hungrily. And he knows then-- he's still falling. He hasn't stopped, only slowed. And Luke knows that even in a dream, he has to breathe.
The ball of fear in his stomach unfurls then, into full-on panic spreading into his lungs. They feel as though they're shrinking, shriveling up like rotting fruit pits. He wastes energy struggling uselessly against gravity, against the water of the ocean around him. He knows now: he'll fall eternally, in an endless agony for breath, for air.
Luke stops fighting, knows there's no use. It's been coming for him forever.
And that's when, clear as though there was some sun to pierce the waves and illuminate the water, Luke sees him--
Someone moving fluidly through the water like it isn't there at all, curving over Luke's body like the current. Someone who presses their lips against his, filling his starving lungs with air. Breathing for him. Soft, pale skin and sea blue eyes.
Percy.
And Luke wakes.
The first piece of fiction I've completed in almost a year and-- just like the last-- it's about nightmares. Someone's projecting their sleep issues, that much is clear. The first line of this story flew into my head when I was watching this film but I couldn't move forward from there until yesterday, when this sort of just poured out of me. There isn't much of a basis for Percy/Luke in canon, but for some reason I'm completely taken with them. And unlike your standard hero-villain love/hate pairing, something about them has me completely gooey and romantic. Luke PINES for a Percy a lot, I just get that sense. Anyway, the writing of this is informed by the film (because gross, writing fic about 12 year olds) and the first novel, as well as knowledge of Luke's overall arc through the series. Also the F+tM track I linked to above. I questioned whether or not to bring Kronos into this explicitly, but I've decided to leave it ambiguous whether or not the dreams come from him. Decide for yourself!