#i fucking hate percy pigs

[architectureenthusiast]

Cause I'm an idiot. I accidentally injected 10 units of insulin when changing my pumps reservoir and canula 🙃. Now each unit bring me down by roughly 4mmol/L glucose levels, I am currently at 3.6mmon/L 🙃.

So to counter this, I need to consume 100g of carbs, as 1 unit of insulin equals to 10grams of carbohydrates for me. But to counter my hypoglycaemia I need an additional 30grams of carbs.

As I am currently in hypoglycaemia I do not want to eat at all and would rather fight someone, or do maths (love maths) or make a really long post about what I should be doing instead of doing it.

So the only thing I have on hand to treat my hypo is percy pigs, which I am quickly starting to hate the existence of.

I do not want to eat anymore than I have to, so to avoid going downstairs and weighing them I am trying to look up the weight of a single one online.

I did not get a straightforward answer, which led to the maths. I am not putting the maths on here, just know I made it a lot harder than it had to be.

Love having hypos in the middle of the night.

[freddie-77-ao3]

Percy Jackson-esque Chapter Titles for a fic i'm writing:

We have friends in holy places (and unholy- Hello Lady Hera!)

What’s Up, Random Person, We’re Kidnapping and Adopting You

Yeah, The Beach Is Nice- Thank You For Not Drowning Us

Hazel Was Dead and Still Knows More Than You

Thank Fuck For The Egyptian- How the Hell Did We End Up In Great Britain

Annabeth Is Obsessed and Bianca Is Possessed- There Goes Christmas

Question Of Our Lives and Today Especially: What The Hell Is Going On?!

Now Would Be A Good Time To Be Anyone Else

Call The Police Because We May Have Just Murdered A Mortal

Ask And You Shall Receive… Sometime In The Next Twenty Years Probably

A Guinea Pig, A Dandelion, A Pine Tree, An Olive Tree and Two Embarrassed Girls Walk Into A Bar  

Satan Or Santa? Neither Should Exist And Yet Somehow They’re Both Knocking On Our Tent Door

A Slight Reprieve From The Last Chapter: Connor Comes For You With The Question ‘Do Tents Have Doors?’

And We’re Back, Why Did You Guys Think Our R&R Would Last Long?

Sugar, Spice, Almost Dying Twice (Today)

Would You Put ‘Cheating Death Almost Daily’ Under Experience Or Special Skills?

An Inspirational Trip Through Hell- Persephone Makes Good Brownies

Those Commercials Where People Screw Up The Most Basic Of Tasks In The Most Idiotic Fashion Ever Describes The Current Situation

As The Prophecy Foretold (We Made It Up, But It Came True)

Living Normally? In This Economy?

And Then The Wolves Came… Sike (Thank Fuck)

The Snails Paced Chocolate Bunny Gives Mixed Messages But Good Cereal

What The Hades Is Going On, Someone Explain

Apparently Exploding A Volcano Makes Us 'Irresponsible’

Why Are Cats So Vengeful 

Oh Look! An Unhelpful Old Person!

The Adults Are More Annoying Than Leo Valdez and Nico Di Angelo Put Together

They Scream For Ice Cream, I Scream For Sanity

McDonald’s And Raising The Dead- Tuesday Never Looked So Good

Unfortunately, I’m Still Not Dead Or A Dolphin (Not For Lack Of Effort)

Eggs Apparently Don’t Like Being Lost At Sea

I’m Packing Up My Crayons And Leaving

Viva La Pluto, Fuck You Guys

A Guide To Giving Up

Hopefully We Can Do This Without Dying This Time

Lady Dirt Face Fucks Us Over- Apparently Today CAN Get Worse

Apparently The Horse Is A God, And Honestly, Fuck The World- But Not You Potty Sludge

If Love Is In The Air Then We’re Wearing Gas Masks- How We Almost Started A War On Accident

If Love Is An Open Door We Should Close It- Aphrodite And Cupid Both Suck

Vegan Ice Cream Sandwiches For One

I Call Shotgun (Said The Invisible Girl  and The Literal Ghost)

I Fucked My Way Into This Mess, I’ll Fuck My Way Out Of It

Things Go Horribly Wrong (Or Horribly Right? It’s Hard To Tell At This Point)

The Fine Art Of Bullshit

We Are Being Hunted And Killed (Why Is This Normal And How Can We Stop It?)

Previously On ‘The Chaos Chronicles”

Cool, Cool, Cool, Cool. Actually It’s Not- Who Lit Katie’s Hair On Fire?!

I’d Like To Say This Is Shocking, But That Would Just Be A Lie

One Hundred And One Monsters, And Twenty Times A Therapist Was Needed

I Am Honestly Surprised That We Are Still Alive, And Apparently So Are The Gods

You Will Never Be A God

Blackmail Only Works If I Care

An Offer I Can Definitely Refuse

Hush Little Baby, Don’t You Cry, You’ll Give Away Our Location, And Then We’ll Die

Only Come Back With Back Up Or A Burger- Maybe Donuts

Doomsday Or Not, Let Me Go Back To Bed, I Haven’t Slept In A Week And I Don’t Care

Practise Doesn’t Make Perfect, Practise Makes A Forest Fire And A Flood

Sea Foam Speaks and A New Person Shatters My Dreams

The Labyrinth Apparently Doesn’t Murder The Already Dead, So Can We Just Die Already?

For A Moment I Forgot Gravity, And As It Seems So Did The Sky, Which Is Good Because I’d Hate To Die Before Breakfast

And God Told Us To Run A Marathon- What Happened To Normal Executions?

At Some Point The Universe Just Needs To Kill Us

There Is Not Enough Faith For This, 

No Words Can Explain Dan, The God Of Moths and Accidental Demon Summoning 

 The Endless and Mysterious Ocean Becomes A Bit Less So, And I Should Have Paid For Diving Lessons

If Best Plus Bitter Equal Better, Then I Am Way Better Than Everyone

Firecrackers And Actual Crackers- Where Is The Cheese

He Likes Art. Terrible Art, But Still Art So I Suppose I’ll Forgive The Sword Through My Head

Hazel Drives Worse Than Thalia Which Says A Lot Because Thalia Crashed Into A Lake- Oh Wait

What Do You Do When The World Almost Ends- And No Nico, The Answer Isn’t Go To McDonalds

This Wasn’t Supposed To Happen (Just Like Me)

Can I Rewrite My Life Story, Because If So I’m Starting With This

I Wasn’t Prepared For Parenthood When I Stopped A Kidnapping, I’m Seven

Patting My Own Back, No One Appreciates Me, Fuck This And Really The Rest Of My Life

Apparently Dying Is Not An Excuse For Being Late, So Fuck You Too 

Buying Happy Meals For The Dead Isn’t An Excuse For Being Late

Caped God? I Was Hoping You Had Said Cape Cod

Incoherent Screaming Is Our Theme Song, And I Feel A New Episode On

Who Told Apollo He Could Give Us Presents, Because MCR Is Not A Proper Wake Up Call

It’s Jesus Who Ruined Our Lives This Time, Folks

Don’t Awaken The Ancient One, She Has Anxiety

I Did Not Know That Could Kill Someone, But You Learn Something New Every Day

The Gods Themselves Want Me Dead, You’re Not Special, Todd

Doritos And Death, A How To On Properly Waking And Raising The Dead Featuring A Trip To Alaska

What Was I Thinking? I’m Pretty Certain I Wasn’t

News To No One: The Previously Dead Can’t Drive

I Really Hate Saving The World Actually

How Many Times Is That Threat Going To Work Considering It’s Not Serious? A Surprising Number

Everyone Asks Who We Are, Not How We Are, And Honestly I’m Pretty Hungry

The Gods Hate Me And I Don’t Know Why (I Do Know Why, But I Don’t Care, And Honestly They Shouldn’t Either)

 Which Circle Of Hell Are We In Now, Because I Was Not Planning On A Field Trip To Tartarus

We Master The Elements (Some Of Them- We Also Torch And Flood New England)

In Which We Almost Die Again And No One Bats An Eye

 Our Lives Would Be Incredibly Saddening If We Could Sit Down And Look At Them, But Leo Burned Our Chairs 

The Houseplants Try To Eat Us, And Katie Gets Mad

We Babysit For A God, And Then Adopt His Kids- Surprisingly He’s Fine With This

Dreams Do Come True And That Is Absolutely Not A Good Thing

There Goes My Best Bargaining Chip (Oh And Also His Head)

A Series Of Horrible Decisions- Who Decided I Was The Leader

Hylla, Please Don’t Leave Us- Oh, You Can Give Us A Box Of Cereal? Nevermind 

Sunshine And Rainbows Are Meant To Mean Happiness Not War- Iris and Apollo Destroy Things

Please Don’t Hit Me With Another Brick

We Were Happy And Then There Was A Giant Pigeon

Oh My Holy Fucking Shit That Was Not The Right Lever

In Which Swimming With Sharks Almost Leads To Death And Yet Saves Our Lives

There Is No Highway To Hell As It Turns Out, Only Backroads, And Now Nico And Thalia Are Disappointed

And Then The Sky Almost Crushed Us Because It Fell And Honestly I’m Never Trusting You Again

There Goes Normal Society, Say Bye-Bye, Miranda 

Are We Supposed To Live Through This?

The Dick Who Hands Out Toothbrushes Also Assigns Us A Death Quest And This Is Why We Don’t Celebrate Holidays

Sorry For Cursing You Out, Please Fix My Life

The Plan Checks Out- We Can Do This! (Spoiler Alert- We Can’t)

Three Hundred And Sixty Five Times We Can Say Fuck In A Hour

Please Let Me Pass Out On Your Lawn

Apparently Yelling Fuck At The Sky Is Considered ‘Disrespectful’ And I Haven’t A Fucking Clue Why

Yes Sir, That Is A Lot Of Blood, And No Sir, She Doesn’t Need That Leg

That One Time We Accidentally End Up In The Slaughter Sea, And How That Manages To End Up With A New Leader Of The Amazon Empire And Thalia Gets A Girlfriend

Yes, I’m Aware I Look Gay, Thank You Very Much, I’m Here To Be Queer

This Person Is Nico di Angelo With Less Shits To Give, And Honestly That Scares Me

A Good Idea With Bad Results And A Bad Idea With Surprising Results- The Ending Will Astound You

Never Thought I’d Literally Be Shut In The Closet Again, But Life’s Full Of Surprises

One Million Pounds Of Oranges And Sadness, Sixty Thousand Pounds Of Mangos, And A Truck Full Of Happiness- Monsters Not Welcome

Who Packed The Blueberry Muffins?

Nevertheless She Persisted, And Yet Just Like That, She Gave Up

What The Hell Is This, What The Hell Is That, Why The Hell Am I Here, What The Hell, *Moonwalks Into Hell*: A Brief Summary Of Life

All Is Fair In Being The First One In The Shower

We Accidentally Summon An Army Of Lost Souls

All Our Nightmares Come True And We Prove We’re Idiots

Life Gave ‘Lia Lemons. She Squeezed Them In My Eyes. Please No More Lemons.

Trying To Play Nice To The Gods Never Ends Well. In Other Words, Percy Is An Olive Tree

What’s Happening? I’m Digging My Own Grave, That’s What

Finger Guns, Peace Signs, and Middle Fingers To Nowhere- Home At Last

In Jason’s Defense, He Tried, But The Dragon Was More Interesting

Keeping A Family Alive Can Be Difficult, Especially With No Education and More Monsters A Day Than Cash (Twenty Dollars)

Thalia Tries To Sing Over Annabeth And Percy Arguing And All That Happens Is A Noise Complaint

At This Point, Murder Is Less Of A Passing Thought And More Of An ‘It’s Only A Matter Of Time’

Cousin Bonding Time Doesn’t Usually Include The Gods, But There Are Burgers So…

According To The Crazy Titan Lord Kronos, Asking If A Newborn Looks Like A Rock Is A Question That Will Result In The Death Of The Asker

Oh Joy, I’m Facing Scrutiny Over My Love Life From Immortal Preteens

Oh Things Couldn’t Be Worse When Your Parents Run The Universe Oh Things Couldn’t Be Worse When There’s A Vote To Kill Us (Leo stop using Jazz hands!)

We Have The Worst Family Reunion Ever 3.0

Barbed Wire Instead Of String, The Fates Hate Me More Than You Might Think

Zombies, Zombies Everywhere, Wave Your Hands Up In The Air

The World Is A Different Place When You Know What The World Is (Spoiler Alert: It’s Your Murderous Great Grandma)

The Refrigerator Seems Empty, Much Like My Soul

Ah, The Smell Of Success, It Smells Like Bullshit

My Heart Is Broken (Like Those Crackers That Bianca’s Eating)

Utter Chaos: Now Featuring Camp Half Blood And Literal Blood

Family Drama Destroys My Life

Family Drama 2.0: Family Drama Destroys California

So Then A God Says We ‘Will Save Humanity’, And Thalia Says ‘What The Fuck’

Two Middle Aged Women Start Screaming In Walmart

The Main Braincell Holder Is Asleep, God Doesn’t Exist, And Starting Forest Fires Is A Normal Way To Deal With Stress

Hell Is Just Life On Steroids

Queerly Beloved, We Are Gathered Here Togay… A.K.A. A Bet Ruins Rachel Elizabeth Dare’s Life

Normal People Would Avoid This, But The Two Most Normal People Here Used To Be Dead Or Will Die When A Stick Lights On Fire, So We Can’t Have High Hopes

We Try (And Fail, But Hey, It’s The Thought That Counts, Right?)

So THAT’S Where The Greek Fire Went. Sorry, Bus Driver.

Percy Has His Gay Awakening In The Form Of His Grandfather (Technically. He’s Also Technically His First Cousin Once Removed Or Something- Annabeth’s cousin maybe?)

You're Annoying Me To Death With Your Monologue So I Have To Kill You Now

What Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong Doesn’t Mean You Should Set My Bed On Fire

Thalia Does Shock Therapy Meaning She Electrocutes People When They Say Things 

We Should Know By Now That Yelling Doesn't Solve Things But We Don’t, And The Gods Don’t Either

Most Of My Life Is Incredibly Traumatizing, But This Is New 

Who The Fuck Invited The Norse?!

Okay, I Thought The Norse Were Enough, Why Are The Magicians Here?

Wow. Popcorn. The Roman’s Worst Nightmare. 

So First The World Almost Ends, And Then The World Ends But It Gets Better, And Now It’s Ending Again?

Prophecies Can Fuck Off, And So Can Apollo

“Treacherous Nephew In The Tuxedo” Should Sound Funny, But It Doesn’t, And That Makes Leo Sad

 Why Is A Titan Making Dad Jokes? 

Falling Into A Dumpster Was The Highlight Of My Day, What Is Life

Grieving For The Living Is Just As Hard As Grieving For The Dead

Please Forget That I Tried To Kill You

In My Defence, An Invisible Higher Power Who Has The Ability To Strike Me Down Made Me Do It

Let Out A Boo For The Boom Man

Twenty McDonald’s Happy Meals And A Gun- Godly Gifts Are Awesome

We Enter The Maze Of Doom (This Time With Fabulous Prizes)

Two Brothers Are Not Happy As A Sister Cheers On Two More Brothers As They Duel To The Death- (Triton & Tyson & Kymopoleia & Percy & Anteus Have Sibling Bonding Time) 

The Eight Year Old With A Gun Manages To Save And Then Destroy A Life

Hello, I’m Queer, And Full Of Fear. Please Kill Me Now

Children Try To Make Plans (It Doesn’t Go So Well)

Thalia Grace Once Again Proves That Being A Demigod Really Fucking Sucks

It Don’t “Do Be Like That Sometimes” Leo, We Are In HELL

[dear-gods-wtf]

{1} Princess - P. Jackson🔱.

By Mari_coppolo on Wattpad.

Status: Completed.

Chapters: 87.

Time: 20h 34m.

Meet the characters

—Table of Contents—

🔱Act One🔱 (The Titan’s Curse)

“That’s why I don’t go to school dances.”

“Annabeth decides to go cliff-diving.”

“Captain, we lost one.”

“Apollo is hot just like this little New England city is now.”

“ ‘Wildest dreams’ by Taylor Swift. Though it’s not cool like her song.”

“We are being attacked by mummies.”

“Guess who’s going on a quest? Hint: It’s not Perseus.”

“Flash News! We got attacked again.”

“I share my Mercedes with Perseus.”

“We’re pig cowboys… Pigboys. (Does that exist?)”

“We’re fucked on all fours, holy shit.”

“Was it necessary to slap the burrito?”

“The angels gave us a ride. No, it wasn’t to heaven.”

“Revelations.”

“Daddy issues are rising above the skies right now.”

“I hate to see the stars.”

“ ‘I meet the gods and look what happened?!’ (It’s not clickbait)”

“Would you mind knocking me out? I need to sleep for ten years at least.”

❤️Act Two❤️ (The Demigod Diaries #1)

“I just wanted to start the year well.”

“Just another weekend.”

“S.O.S! Edward Cullen attacks me.”

“Happy fucking birthday.”

“That’s weird…”

“In what way do you mean that?”

“Are we about to kiss?”

“ ‘Backbiter,’ more like Backstabber.”

“Francis, the shark.”

“Everything was fine until it wasn’t anymore.”

🕊️Act Three🕊️ (The Battle of the Labyrinth)

“Wasted my pretty outfit.”

“We’re are going to learn to tap dance.”

“When I have to find something I never do. But this, of course I found it.”

“We’re going on a trip on our favorite rocket ship.”

“Wish us luck. Please.”

“Can you please join my ‘Anti-Hera club?’ It will help me graduate.”

“When everything goes down, Perseus makes it go up again.”

“Just found out I’m worth some good gold. Wanna buy me?”

“Perseus saves the day… again.”

“The king can fuck himself.”

“I’m retiring from being a demigod. Now I’m the new spider-women. Scratch that.”

“Hephaestus sends me on a date. I blew it up… literally.”

“We try to survive.”

“Congratulations on not dying.”

“ ‘Oh boy, here we go.’ -Pt. 2 feat Mc R.E.D. Available on Spotify.”

“I fought my brother. Why? Deaths and Marriage.”

“Dream on- Kratos’s version.”

“Raise your hand if you woke up the Titan. Perseus, I can see you hiding.”

“Pretty nice words before dying.”

“The battle started.”

“There is hope for everyone in the end.”

“Pranks.”

“Did she-? Alright, bring back the dragon.”

“I can’t tell you if the fireworks are in the sky or in my stomach.”

“I’m no good at goodbyes.”

🇧🇷Act Four🇧🇷 (The Demigod Diaries #2)

“Let me tell you something.”

“First night, first argument.”

“Guess what? He knows.”

“A deal.”

“Iris-messages and lies.”

“I’m selfish, I know, I can’t let you go.”

“Traumatic, indeed.”

“I was forced to be here, but in the end I liked it.”

“Girl’s talk.”

“ ‘Dear Princess;’ That’s where I died.”

“I got an exclusive present.”

“Memories bring back you.”

⚔️Act Five⚔️ (The Last Olympian)

“Guess I got back right on time.”

“Are we ever going to have a civilized conversation?”

“Wanna sprite?”

“Percy leads us to Olympus.”

“They could have put me to sleep too.”

“ ‘We’re all in this together’ - Camp Half-Blood version.”

“Kronos can go suck a dick.”

“Punching the air.”

“I flew on a pig.”

“Let’s party with the ponies.”

“What in the Achilles is this?”

“My father almost blew me up. Don’t blame him.”

“He’s gone. It’s done.”

“I got a gift from the gods.”

“*screams* *giggles* *kick the air.*”

“We’re doing fine, strange I know.”

“And they lived happily ever after… for four months.”

[dedenneblogs]

my billions of hcs for ares, clarrise, + anyone else unfortunate to be related to the god of war:

- Ares looks like one of those cool, old, bearded grandpas on youtube that give life advice but the only thing he’d give you advice on is how to handle a motorcycle or how to start a war.

- expects ALL his children to know how to at least ride a bicycle, extra points if your able to handle a motorbike by 16 (yes he has a points system). One of the many reasons he doesn’t like Clarrise ☹️☹️☹️

- Wanted to get with Aphrodite ever since TTC. halted his plans when his chest hairs (yes you heard that right i shan’t elaborate) signaled to him that Clarrise was extremely gay for Silena. thought for a second to make another move after Silena passed but decided against it.

- was ecstatic to find out clarrise was a lesbian but only because he saw it as a way for her to “toughen up” and “be more of a man,” so still hated gay men+. Clarrise knocked some sense into him, he’s an ally now

- clarrise doesn’t forgive ares, she probably never will. Ares is okay with that yet he tries to be there for her. always

- Ares is an 80s movies nut. like. won’t shut the fuck up about 80s movies, it’s basically the only thing he watches other then monster trucks, history channel at 3am (he calls it his news source), and illegal cage fights he’s recorded over the years. was hyped when Ready Player One came out and forced Clarrise to come with him to see it. Clarrise liked Aech by the end but wasn’t impressed by the representation. Ares of course said he loved it, then watched again only to realize how shit it was. Ruined his day

- All the Arises have at least somewhat of a pig face, but it’s most noticeable in clarrise. Like. just take a pig, give it a human body. BOOM! Ares child

- Silena used to always tell Clarrise how cut she thought her pig face was. It made Clarrise less insecure. Sobs oceans when someone says something positive about her face after Silena dies. Ah…. doomed/toxic yuri

- Ares: RISE UP AND WIN!!! Clarrise and her siblings in unison: AUUGHHHHHHH

- Clarrise keeps in contact with Blackbeard. He’s an absolute w, always asks his little sister if she wants to find buried treasure or whatever the fuck pirates do in the 21st century. One day Percy introduced blackbeard and his crew to One Piece. things went downhill from there.

also side note i’ve already read 4 of percy jackson books from the og series so if blackbeard finds the one peice in chalice of the gods or whatever don’t @ me until i find out for myself

[sevendeadlyheadcanons]

I’ve seen this on tiktok with different fandoms so here is NNT if they worked in retail

(these will be british because i live in britain and so do they and saying big tescos is objectively funnier than walmart or whatever)

Meliodas: Still runs his pub, but it’s probably a Wetherspoons that he’s bought the franchising rights of. He plays the football on the TV and writes who’s playing on a chalkboard in front of the pub to draw more people in. Probably supports Millwall but lies to people about it because he doesn’t want to get beat up in his own pub

Diane: Claire’s. Never let this woman touch the piercing gun. Whenever she checks you out on the till she’s like “Ooh these earrings are stunning they’ll suit you so good” she always buys the blind bags and collects them all

Ban: Corner shop. Probably sells vapes to minors and gets them to call him bossman, but not intentionally he’s just drunk on the job (he drinks the 3 year old WKD that nobody has bought because it’s shit)

King: Marks and Spencer’s. He believes that M&S food is better than any other food. “Yeah sure Aldi might be cheaper, but are you gonna get Percy Pigs there?” “These oranges are of better quality and 10x better than the ones you can get at asda” bro will defend the prices at M&S with his life and constantly denies the tory allegations.

Gowther: Lush. Bro sells the fuck out of them bath bombs. He always smells like the shop. Does demos just for the fun of it, because he likes to see the ✨sparkle✨ the biggest snow fairy fiend, he stock piles snow fairy when it first comes into stock so nobody else can buy it for the first like week.

Merlin: Superdrug. She knows the shop like the back of her hand. Where’s the paracetamol? “Second isle” Where’s the pads? “At the end of isle 4” Where’s the makeup kept? “The back isle” She probably lets people shoplift to spice her day up.

Escanor: WHSmiths at daytime, Puregym at nighttime. Bro has bills to pay so he’s constantly on the grind. At smiths he constantly has to defend the prices and remind people that he personally is not the reason why the pencil cases are a tenner. At the gym he has no idea why people are working out at midnight but he’ll go and do it next to them just to flex.

Elizabeth: Probably still a waitress at the pub. Has to deal with rowdy footy fans all day with a smile on her face and she takes it like a champ. Doesn’t make the app orders late on purpose but they’ll still end up taking 2 hours to come somehow. She probably dropped the tray and had to remake it and then had to kick someone out. She needs her legally required 4 weeks paid holiday please 💔

Elaine: Primark. It’s the only job she could get and it makes her blood boil everyday. She hates the customers, she hates the cheaply made clothing. She is constantly applying to other jobs but she cannot get anywhere yet.

[itsthenerdwonder]

Okay, before we end the PJO tv show, I’m gonna watch the shitty movie. I’ve reread the book, chapter by chapter, before each episode to compare it for myself. But let’s watch the movie to compare to the show AND book cuz why the eff not?

And since Percy is played by a 21 year old, I will also be drinking during this movie cuz BLEH!

20th Century Fox…you sure did last longer than 1999. For better and worse. And now Disney owns you and you’re nothing but a memory…a little more booze will fix that.

Chris Columbus, because everyone loved the first 2 Harry Potter movies. Well, they loved how good of adaptations they were as well as the Dumbledore actor.

Giant Poseidon rises out of the water…struggling to walk through water like he’s a human. AND A HUMAN SEES HIM AND HE’S JUST LIKE “sup” LIKE….THAT HAD BETTER BE A RANDOM TSUNAMI HE’S FUCKING SEEING! AND THEN POSEIDON JUST WATER MORPHS INTO A REGULAR GUY?! WHY ARE YOU NOW A REGULAR GUY?! WHY NOT JUST START AS A REGULAR GUY? Why be massive at all? Just, why?

You know, Sean Bean probably wishes he DID die in this movie so he’d never have to reprise. But, only the main 4 actually reprised so, you know, whatever. The franchise flopped enough to count as a death.

EXPSITION! TALKING! WALKING! BORING!

Also, this implies that Luke LITERALLY JUST TOOK IT! Like, days/hours ago and Zeus is already like “guess imma just kill a kid and cause WWIII in 2 weeks.” Like, Zeus has no chill, but he’s king of the gods for a reason. Those shits are PETTY! And do ALL KINDS of stuff that could’ve resulted in dozens of power plays/wars/other shitty things happen to the gods or mortals, but they didn’t cuz Zeus…actually knows how to rule. He just doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants. That’s a separate issue.

Such intense. Very dramatique standing. Much wow.

Honestly, even though this is a weird opening, it is a very good opening. Percy just…chilling in his element. Like, yeah, 7 minutes for a high schooler to just hold his breath is bad cuz 6 minutes and you start losing brain cells and teenagers don’t have cells to lose cuz they lost half of them to puberty and spend the next 10-15 years wrestling them back from their hormones and self-worth issues. But still, it’s a nice score after that intensely nothing scene, very calm and soothing, makes the “who could Percy’s dad” question feel very stupid but the movie isn’t trying to make you think, so you can just…be for that underwater scene. It’s nice. But unfortunately we don’t drown and the movie keeps going.

Although, with Rick adding that Percy does have a fear of drowning in later books, that does make this scene…terrifying. Is Percy trying to drown himself?

“It’s like high school without the musical” so…high school. Also, hey, an appropriately 2008 reference cuz these books can’t stop making references. Seriously, Rick, you can stop making references that date the books. You do a yearly reference per book but sometimes it’s multiple books per year. THAT’S NOT HOW DATES WORK.

Mrs. Dodds is teaching English cuz…Shakespeare is harder than high school trig? But it does give us a decent look at Greek letters superimposing over the early modern English as the letters move and rearrange and…this is the second nice thing I’ve said. SHIT! SAY SOMETHING DISPARAGING!

“I think this dyslexia thing is getting worse.” That’s…not how dyslexia works. “Idk, maybe it’s the ADHD.” This movie is dumb. Phew, I said something disparaging.

Percy sassing his mom makes me hate him rather than making me think they have a close relationship and he loves his mom and would literally kill for her.

Ah, the first sexual thing to happen on screen. And this is the only one to not make me mad cuz it’s Gabe being the worst.

“Show some respect. That’s my mom right there.” No, that’s his wife right there. Show him some of you leaving so he can continue to be a mortal pig stinking up the place and making you safe from monsters. God this Gabe is the worst, he’s fucking perfect.

Oh right, and the gods are telepathic too. Cuz…why? That’s never established in ANY myth or book. “I haven’t seen him since he was a baby” yeah, but apparently you guys have one-way phone calls where you give cryptic advice every other Tuesday.

AND THEY GET GREEK MYTH WRONG! “The Big Three overthrew Kronus.” *Pulls out 3 mythology books, 10 mythology websites and the fucking book.* Now, we’re not leaving until you learn these gods’ dam myths or you are carried away by Thanatos trying.

Mrs. Dodds honestly looks like such a creeper in this scene. Looking like she’s trying to sniff his hair. Ick.

Pierce Brosnan is a brilliant actor. He uses the wheelchair like a fucking pro, but then he keeps propping himself up at an odd angle away from the back like it’s uncomfortable to sit in. Which, would make sense given he’s got a whole other half folded up behind him.

It’s so interesting how the Furies keep getting wings in modern media. Like, classical depictions have them as just really really pissed off ladies. And that’s no lady. That’s a demon.

Logan was clearly thinking the CGI would grab his arms to lift him instead of underneath his arms, so he just looks really stiff cuz the CGI artists messed up.

“I should be on medication.” Well yes but actually no.

Also, how was the show’s lack of a fight scene better than this…almost fight? Pathetic attack and subsequent scolding? At least she died in the show, unlike here.

“Only use it in times of severe distress.” That line…makes no sense…cuz…like…he’s camp activities director for a bunch of demigods he’s training to fight to the death…WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DOESN’T WANT THIS KID WHO’S IN IMMEDIATE DANGER TO USE A WEAPON?!

“This is a pen. This is a pen!” Well…at least some of this movie is fun/funny/almost enjoyable.

Movie!Percy is an ableist jackass who thinks crutches constitute helplessness. Book!Percy would beat Movie!Percy up for even SUGGESTING Grover couldn’t handle himself, much less kick someone’s ass. He’s seen Grover in the cafeteria line.

“Like I said, I’m your protector.” And suddenly, Eddie and the guys think Grover’s gay for Percy

“He was forced to leave.” I…the tide comes and goes. And so does Poseidon. He’s here, then he’s gone. But he’ll return again. Constant change. How is that so hard to write?

“Leaving you was probably the most difficult thing he ever did.” Okay, I know you’re not Show!Sally, but lady, Imma need you to do your research about your ex. Okay?

“Sally watch out!” For what? The cow didn’t enter the screen until the car was already turning to avoid it.

And this is why you wear a seat belt. All of you should’ve gone flying through that windshield cuz none of you were wearing seat belts.

I’m going to need Grover to never say “Come on” again. Please. For the love of Apollo.

I hate that invisible wall.

You know, it’s supposed to be raining. Which is why Percy does not insta-die. Cuz water. Instead, this kid is just the best at being a matador/sword fighting cuz Gary Stu.

“No. No. No. No. No. No.” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! GIVE IT UP FOR THE WORST LINE DELIVERY IN THE WHOLE GODDAMN MOVIE! “I’d like to thank my mom, for dying. My teen angst, for not giving a shit for her dying. That math test I was supposed to take today I definitely didn’t study for that I was thinking about the same time as remembering my mom just died. None of you were important to me. And I’ll keep on not caring for the rest of this movie. Good night!”

This is the tiniest Camp Half-Blood ever…and the musical just had a small black box to work with. Sword combat training right next to archers firing at everything leaving the infirmary and both working to put you back in immediately after getting healed?

“I’m a loser. I have dyslexia. ADHD.” Look. 2010 was a different time. But like…did the writers KNOW what those were? That they’re unfortunately not an uncommon disability in America. For one or the other (usually not both, but most people don’t hear about half-bloods unless they make the news for blowing up Mount St. Helens. Again)

Look at Clarise kicking ass, even though she should have her hair up. “That’s Annabeth.” Oh, right. Every time.

Instant connection. Cuz…teenagers be horny I guess. Not like we can actually build up the relationship or anything. NOOOOO. Gotta be horny at first sight.

Pierce Brosnan is a terrible actor with how he’s holding his arms like he Naruto running, but they’re fists so it just looks stiff and awkward.

“A real horse’s ass.” I still don’t understand that joke. Not that one. The one in Aladdin where he says “a horse with two rear ends” but…RIGHT! Gotta focus on the worse movie.

All daughters of Aphrodite are sorority girls with Elle Woods’ body and libido without the Elle Woods brains. Remember when this story was supposed to be for 12-year-olds.

And there’s no question who his dad is cuz Poseidon just came to camp one day and decided to be a carpenter and carved “PεΓ<ψ ωiιι βε HεΓε” right above the door

You know…the CGI on Chiron’s horse half looks pretty good.

“This stuff is so heavy!” That’s light leather! What are you talking about. I can show you several 12-year-olds wearing full metal breastplates, pauldrons and helmets carrying metal shields too (which also looks cheap, but still) that would laugh at how you think THAT is heavy.

Grover’s so upbeat here at camp…which is…interesting…

Camp Leader? Leader? I…what the fuck is happening. Why is Luke…more in charge than Chiron? And Mr. D comes next movie…DID MR. D TAKE LUKE’S JOB?!

Idk…maybe it’s just the Michael lingering in poor Adam Winchester, but…he just RADIATES evil, you know?

“That’s a sword. That’s a sword.” No shit.

But, you know, even with the shaky cam, the fight choreography is pretty good.

“My mother is goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. You know what that means?” You’re an inflated windbag who exposits a lot? Like, didn’t we already establish that 2 scenes ago? Yet, I almost needed it cuz I forgot she was Annabeth again and was like “Hey Clarisse” cuz she looks like how I picture Clarrise (who’s a blonde) and fighting against Percy and being a bitch and…yeah

Cuz she wouldn’t know to not leave a son of Poseidon anywhere near water? Like, even not knowing that it’d heal him, with admittedly decent effects, he’s already claimed and so she’d KNOW that maybe, just maybe, he’s a water boy. That and/or he’s probably pretty good on horseback.

And now the fight choreography sucks. I’m bored. Mostly by the 1-v-1 instead of war between many like we were doing. Like…they would be doing.

Grover isn’t hungry all the time here. He’s horny all the time. I hate it.

“I’m not going to grow a fish tail or gills am I?” Listen, I’d much rather be watching Thirteenth Year. Shut up.

“I have very strong feelings for you. I just haven’t decided if they’re positive or negative yet.” So…you think he’s hot, but a jerk. So…make it negative cuz…yeah, this Percy is a prick and I don’t want to be his friend. Where’s Book or Show!Percy. I miss them.

AND HADES IS SATAN BECAUSE EVERYONE SAW DISNEY’S HERCULES AS WELL AS FUCKING CHRISTIANS AND THEIR HATRED OF DEATH! I HATE THIS! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FOR DISPARAGING THE LORD OF THE DEAD LIKE THIS!

I’m also going to need Grover to stop saying “I’m your protector.” It’s almost as repetitive as “Come on,” but not quite. Not yet.

Luke playing video games is somehow the biggest change from the book. Not Annabeth eating Clarisse’s character. Not Mrs. Dodds teaching Shakespeare. Not that everyone knows Percy’s heritage and thus we cut out the “gods are deadbeats” theme from the books…nope. It’s the fact that this Ancient Greek summer camp has fucking electricity.

“My dad’s a jerk, I’ve never met him.” You know, if it was ONLY book 1, I could forgive this. Knowing several books had come out and May Castellian’s story was able to be known…OOPS! Kinda forgot to read ahead to make sure everything lines up, huh?

I broke into a god’s house and stole stuff (I’m obviously not the Lightning Theif even though I’ve already stolen from the gods) like this book that’s still covered in dust which doesn’t make sense logically.

Shoe flies into the screen for all the 3D movie watchers out there. Honestly, I miss when 3D did gimmicks like that.

Persephone fucking around is not her character. Other than possibly Hades (and, that’s from Ovid, a Roman, who put in a line about her agency rather than the original Greek tale) she’s a virgin goddess. She’s called Kore, The Maiden, before she’s Persephone. Like…what’s with all the sex stuff and tying NONE OF IT TO ZEUS!?

Look, the 3 pearls given by Poseiden being made the 3 stopping points could’ve…not sucked, except, the first few books are very much adventures. Like Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Or any of the Lord of the Rings. We start at Point A and we’re going to Point B and crazy things happen on the way to make it interesting. Those things are just super dangerous cuz it’s an adventure inspired by The Oddessy rather than a Road Trip movie where those things are comedy based.

Map will only show 1 pearl at a time, so how does Luke know how many there are? He could be lying. Also this is why Mrs. Dodds needed to teach you Math, so you could do 1+1+1 DOES NOT EQUAL 4 PEOPLE STUPID!

Also, to get the map to show you the next one, just say I Solemnly Swear That I’m Up To No Good.

And Luke gives them a shield that takes 5 seconds to fully open which isn’t helpful because we saw none of the kids using shields so they probably would suck with them instead of knowing how to use it in a fight/forget it has a timer and they die by being impaled before the shield can fully open.

47 minutes in and we’re JUST NOW getting to the quest. And YET! It felt like we were running through the first 10 chapters.

Honestly, don’t totally hate the Highway to Hell song because it’s super on the nose.

*Grover sees rats* “That’s nasty.” YOU’RE A SATYR! YOU WOULD PROBABLY BE HAPPIER TO SEE NATURE DOING IT’S THING THAN EATING A TIN CAN! Probably…tin cans are also very delicious.

Annabeth is also a thief, stealing from Aunty Em like that.

The woman’s overacting is…why?

Grover should’ve been stabbed with how Percy was holding that thing.

Uma’s decision to rub her hands together to project her evil instead of just…holding herself with the confidence of a villainess was certainly a decision.

Huh, even the movie doing the “Medusa was a pretty woman” story…and even reference that she hates his dad instead of having a sweet spot like in the book…

What, is she just that persuasive? I think her snakes are venomous, so, like, she could do that instead of just…standing there saying “look me in the eye when you know I’m fucking Medusa.”

Percy with the iPod is…regrettably iconic.

Uma running is…regrettably memorable cuz it’s that bad rather than the iPod.

If Annabeth was able to get out with the arm broken off, she should’ve been able to get out with the arm attached, but I guess we can make Grover actually helpful.

“I don’t have the lightning bolt!” Except, since we cut Ares giving it to them in Colorado and put it in the damn shield…YES YOU DO!

Why is Medusa hitting on, supposedly, a teenager! Medusa is a ephebophile and needs to die for that much more than killing a woman who screamed too much.

That truck should be destroyed to hell and Percy should be dead.

No black man is giving up the hoodie under the jacket. That’s not happening.

Medusa is also bisexual if they found the pearl on her wrist like that so she could leave Persephone’s Garden whenever she wanted/needed.

Yay. Everyone hates country music.

I’m glad they have money for a 2 bed motel.

Wow. I’m so glad Percy can heal others with water like he’s frickin Katara.

“It’s a recent thing that Zeus said Fuck Them Kids. Like, 15 years recent.” Yeah, that’s not…that’s not why the gods are deadbeats.

Grover, not so loud. You wanna tell the entire motel ppl that we’re here?

Everyone remembered this scene from the movie and the tourist in the book and decided that’s why the show was bad in waiting until St Louis, like in the book, to say Percy was a fugitive of the law. Instead of, just…a troubled kid with a dead mom.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Gabe always running his mouth.” You met Gabe for 2 seconds at the apartment. You are talking about nothing. Gabe is always nothing with you. You know nothing. Shut up.

Boy, I’m so glad they slept so they could drive again instead of sleeping in the car, being awake at the motel, and driving all night to be awake in the day. Ugh.

The Athena Parthenos is not allowed to be there cuz we gotta find it in HoO. That’s also not how it looks in Nashville so, like, that’s gotta be the real Parthenos.

People check the bathrooms and would’ve escorted you out.

Annabeth is a racist who goes to kill the black guy first.

SINCE WHEN DOES SHE HAVE A CROSSBOW?! Since how does she know how to use a crossbow? Since why does she have a crossbow?

Surprised they’re not making a sex joke about groping Athena’s tits or something.

But…why would the hydra want a bolt of lightning? It wouldn’t even be able to use it.

Also, everyone’s seen Disney’s Hercules, and Winter Soldier is coming out in a few years. Grover also should’ve known that that was bad.

AND NOW SHE HAS A BOW AND FULL QUIVER OF ARROWS!

That’s a lot of water for a single water fountain.

Boy. I’m so glad they’re carrying Medusa’s head around instead of sending it to Olympus to get their parents to say “we see you, sweeties! We hate it, but we see you!”

And again, Grover saves the day and Annabeth only makes it worse.

“Several Continents” …you named 2, so it would be over those two continents. Also…how big is it? Is it as big as a mountain range? EQUAL to Europe and straddling the two continents?! ALL OF EUROPE AND ASIA?! Cause, honestly, it’d be weird, but a stormfront covering half of Europe/part of Asia at the same time wouldn’t be impossible. Storms be big. Europe be small.

I will say, points for the show to make it a real casino instead of an amusement park like in the book, cuz…that’s not really how casinos work. Like, they can have a really great secondary, non-casino part, but…a theme park like here in the movie and focusing on the arcade and making it massive like the book is…weird.

I’m gonna need Grover to be a little less horny.

That’s a lot of people for three teens. Instead of it being enticing, it’s forcing. Which…is not how the Lotus Eaters work.

The kids have never done drugs before cuz even the ones that make you happy don’t make you THAT kind of happy.

Honestly, still a great part of the movie, with Grover tearing it up. Get it, Goat Boy.

Percy, stop getting high. This is not part of the drugs, I swear. Percy. I AM YOUR FATHER, wait, Disney doesn’t own both properties yet.

Honestly, I’m expecting the lotus servers to ring security with how insistent they are. Like, damn.

Grover was about to have an orgy, cuz like, ugh!

“I can drive from Vegas to LA in 3 to 4 hours.” NOT WHEN YOU HIT TRAFFIC BITCH! And you will.

The sky doesn’t look like a massive storm cloud, it looks like really bad pollution.

Is Annabeth allowed to do anything? She didn’t read the sign. She didn’t help in Medusa. She BARELY DID ANYTHING in Nashville (not that she did much other than have a personality in St. Louis.) She was the same level of helpful in the Lotus Casino. Annabeth, why are you HERE?!

Grover, why are you asking Percy what anything about Greek Myth is? Again, Annabeth is the smart one!

Percy just gonna casually stab Charon and think he’s going anywhere? This is the Land of the Dead, boy! He cannot die! If he does, it just means a bigger back up in the waiting room.

I love that Death plays Charon. He’s such a good actor.

“We’re in a recession!” When are we not? Fucking American economy.

You know what, the Underworld green screen actually looks impressive. It’s well done.

“All lives end in suffering and tragedy.” This is not Hell. This is Hades. So where are the Fields of Asphodel? Where’s Elysium? It’s more than just the Fields of Torment! Tartarus is UNDER Hades. That’s not all Hades is.

Probably a super cute puppy! Nope, just 2 Hellhounds. But Mrs. O’Leary is so nice!

Persephone trying to hit on Grover is…I’m so done. Why Grover’s new personality gotta be horn dog?

I actually don’t hate Hades looking like an aging rocker look. It’s weird, but it’s at least a look. Unlike Zeus and Poseidon in the first scene with 0 style.

WHY IS PERSEPHONE SO HORNY FOR GOAT?!

“I was banished here by Zeus and Poseidon.” No, just Zeus. And you didn’t hate it. I mean, you hate it cuz it’s constant work, but you do a good job and would hate ruling the sea or sky.

Hades asking the real questions here.

Why is Hades backing out of the deal? Didn’t they see Disney’s Hercules?

“The only time I look forward to is my allotted time away from this hellhole.” You mean summer? Like, right now? Cuz you supposed to be top side, honey.

“Guys, it’s gotta be me, cuz I’m your protector…and also gonna bone a goddess.” I don’t hate him as Grover. I hate the writers for Grover.

How does Sally know where the entrance is, but still can’t get through? Also, another woman running up behind Percy or Annabeth shouting her lines annoyingly. Yay.

Wow, you’re really just gonna say that, huh.

“I was planning on giving the bolt to Hades the whole time.” Cuz fuck Kronos who we DID ESTABLISH VERY EARLY IN THE MOVIE!

This should be a much more intense fight between Annabeth and Luke knowing their history. But…it’s more of a Clarisse vs Luke fight cuz it’s weirdly choreographed and no dialogue to suggest they know each other.

“Why do you want a war with the gods?” Cuz fuck ‘em. “Control.” I…♪Everybody wants to rule the world♪ BUT LIKE! HE’S ALREADY APPARENTLY CAMP LEADER! HE’S ALREADY GOT CONTROL! WHAT WOULD BECOMING A GOD DO????

MISS! MISS! MISS! COME ON IT’S ULTIMATE POWER AND YOU MISSED 3X IN A ROW! MISS! HOW CAN YOU MISS? HE IS 3 FEET IN FRONT OF YOU!

Percy still should not be flying, but we need the battle to be more epic cuz Percy vs Ares isn’t cool enough and a sudden reveal is too subtle and intense. This final battle misses so many marks.

HE IS FLYING THROUGH A METAL BUILDING AND HE MISSED COMPLETELY! Luke is a terrible shot and just sucks. But apparently can throw a dagger at high speeds at a moving target, so he can aim, he just sucks when plot needs them to.

And there’s the movie poster.

And Luke should’ve been electrocuted, drowned, and died. He should not be alive. But then that would imply Percy is okay with killing people. Cuz Medusa clearly doesn’t count.

And another invisible wall. If she shouldn’t have been able to get to out, she honestly shouldn’t have been able to get on the elevator in the first place.

Look at Hogwarts, I mean, Olympus.

Party City called, they want $50 per costume.

“I have no connection to Poseidon.” I…clearly you do cuz you trusted him enough to help you get out of the Lotus Casino.

This Hermes looks like a loser and deserves Luke’s hate. Nathan Fillion Hermes is Nathan Fillion and still deserves Luke’s hate.

Zeus does not have power to bring back someone from the Underworld. That is not his jurisdiction! The gods can have overlap, 2 gods of war stuff kinda deal, but not fully take control of something that is their domain. Ares has fire eyes, but he cannot control the fire of the hearth. Hephestus and Apollo both make things, but the sun and the fire of a forge are NOT THE SAME!

AND THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING EVER! THAT IMMORTALS CAN BECOME MORTAL JUST BY LOVING TOO MUCH?! LIKE?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Tiny baby horns means First Class Protector…that’s not how horns work! Zeus cannot grant a satyr the ability to grow the thing that he’s supposed to grown naturally and say it’s a promotion.

I’m so glad you left the camp where I’m training people to hopefully not die because I clearly don’t care about your safety.

Can Annabeth PLEASE fight with her hair up. “But it makes her look cool and effeminate.” It also means she won’t be able to se when it flies in her face. Like there. And there. And just know.“I kicked him out” she said. And yet, she just keeps the fridge with Medusa’s head and sees no problem with that? Had no plans on killing him with it, just decided that was going to be a better roommate than Gabe? I mean, I guess this Medusa knows how to go down on a woman, but her head is kinda limp and gross.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

I think it's sweet that Scanlan practices to be a good father for Kaylie with Kid!Percy as the unfortunate guinea pig. However, it'd be funny if Kaylie and Kid!Percy joined forces like actual siblings to make Scanlan go greyhaired with so much stress.

That's so fucking funny

Once the two of them get on good terms, Percy makes Kaylie gadgets specifically designed to annoy Scanlan. And Scanlan loves and hates their friendship in equal measures.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[goldfish-gay]

Percy Jackson head cannons I have that are 100% not just me projecting

When he’s old enough Percy rarely drinks, and if he does it’s never more then a full glass

Percy and annabeth end up adopting instead of having their own kids. Their plan was to adopt no matter what, but ended up adopting two super young halfbloods who’s parents 💫died💫

Will had so many sexuality crisis that at one point someone asked what he was and he simply said “fucking, bill nye.” And walked away

Hazel cusses like a sailor but will give you the mom look and tell you “language” if you curse

Nicos hair is actually quite curly (very lose curls , almost wavy but trust me it’s curly) but due to the years of not taking care of both himself and his hair it looks almost straight. Then one day a while after toa he gets out of the shower and it drys curly, he doesn’t even know until will makes a comment

Compared to people his age nico is pretty tall and has been his whole life, he hits a growth spurt right after the giant war then he pretty much stops growing then everyone else passes him in hight. Except for will and hazel and he refers to them as his token short friends

Annabeth hates physical touch after Thalia goes all tree ,like she absolutely despises it. but she is horribly touch starved and guess what? Her love language also happens to be touch. That is until a kid name Percy comes around. They are the kind of friends that can be seen at any given moment holding hands, or with ones head resting on the others shoulder, but have they ever hugged? When pigs fly.

Percy cycles through jackets, every 8 months or so there he gets attached to a jacket/hoodie and he will only wear that jacket (unless it’s absolutely Nessisary for him to wear a different) sally thought he would grow out of the phase but he’s 18 years old and has been living in one of his old hoodies for the last 3 months.

Annabeth has slight sensory issues that mainly surround clothing. Tight pants, you’ll rarely see her in them. Most her shirts are mens cut because she hates how most women’s shirts are cut, on top of that all her t-shirts either have the collar cut off or stretched out. Any kind of wrist jewelry, never she won’t even wear hair bands on her wrist. 

Jason once broke open his lip scar while training with his javilan (yo spelling) some how managed to smack himself right in the mouth, oh it was also 7am in the morning and he couldn’t talk for the rest of the day. (Yes this is VERY specific)

[bipercabeth]

"i would have been there for you" with a dash of "you've changed" because i like throwing curve balls and think that has the potential to crack my sternum in half

(tw blood and injury)

The summer before the Titan War is the weirdest of Percy’s life. 

For most demigods that’s a given, but for Percy it’s kind of a feat. What could be weirder than the summer he defeated flesh eating birds with Dean Martin music and was later turned to a guinea pig? Or the one where he blew up his school before a not-date with a pretty girl and walked across the country in a day thanks to a sentient underground tunnel? But somehow, the summer where he and Annabeth aren’t together is the weirdest. 

Not together. Just not... together. She’s angry, so he gets angry and goes to Rachel, and she gets angry for him getting angry and going to Rachel, and he gets angry about her getting angry about him getting angry about her being angry. It’s a viscous cycle, but the times do come where they have to put it aside for the greater good. Preventing the upheaval of the gods can’t rest solely on the shoulders of two demigods dancing around their feelings for each other, right? 

Right?! 

They get called for a quest. The requirement to go to the Oracle to leave camp was thrown out the window a while ago, but so far most of the missions have been large groups or solo. But this information about river spirits came from Daedalus’s laptop, meaning it’s indisputably a Percy and Annabeth job. Chiron is reluctant to send them both, claiming it’s something Percy can do alone, but Annabeth fixes him with a champion glare and he caves.

Somehow they make it out in one piece with minimal offense to the river spirits, who promise to be allies should Kronos’s army march on camp again, which is all Percy is comfortable asking of them. Sounding the alarm is one thing, but it’s entirely too much to ask a nature spirit to waste their life force fighting back. 

The following happens too quickly for Percy to process. Something erupts from the trees as they leave the riverbank. Annabeth shoves him down and raises her dagger to shield him. The river spirit handles the creature. Annabeth stumbles and swears in pain. 

The impact with the forest floor steals Percy’s breath, leaving him in a daze while Annabeth disappears behind him. The creature bellows and explodes into dust before Percy ever makes out what it is. 

“You have to leave,” the river spirit calls. “They know you’re here. Take your friend and go!” 

Percy puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles while rising from the dirt. Annabeth is leaning against a tree a few feet away, breathing heavily and holding her arm funny. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He wants to run to her, to touch her. He doesn’t.

Her head falls back against the bark of the tree, where the light filtering through the leaves illuminates the sweat on her forehead. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” 

Percy doesn’t buy it, but she has that stormy look in her eyes that tells him she isn’t budging. “Blackjack is on his way.” 

A heavy sigh escapes her as she nods, still clutching her left arm. Percy retrieves her dagger from the ground and offers it to her, but her eyes are screwed shut. It’s not like her to show pain like this. 

He looks at the holster on her leg. “I’m just gonna... uh...” He slides it into its sheath, taking every precaution not to touch her thigh and half expecting to get stabbed for it. 

Great gusts of wind batter the fragile limbs of the trees as Blackjack sails down to them, his wide wings beating rhythmically. His hooves strike the earth and he trots over to Percy. Where to, boss? 

“We gotta get back to camp,” Percy says, frowning at Annabeth. 

Lady boss ain’t looking too hot. 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he mumbles. 

Annabeth quirks an eyebrow at the two of them and rolls her eyes, walking to Blackjack with her nose in the air. She may not know what Blackjack said, but apparently that means it’s Percy’s fault. Everything seems to be Percy’s fault, these days. 

She attempts to haul herself up, but her arm gives out and she ends up crying in pain. Percy catches her despite knowing she’d rather fall than accept help from him. 

“I can do it myself,” she snaps, shouldering him away. 

“You don’t have to though.” Percy throws his hands in the air. “Plus, you’re injured.” 

Annabeth’s grip on her arm tightens. “This isn’t from today.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

She glares at him. “It’s from a quest from a few weeks ago. It didn’t heal right, but the infirmary is full. I’ll get it checked out later.” 

“What quest?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“What quest did you get hurt on?” Anger rises in Percy’s chest, both at the thought of Annabeth getting injured and her keeping him in the dark about it. 

She attempts to shrug, then winces. “Does it matter? It’s over.” Her shot at a casual tone misses by miles. 

Percy tries to swallow the anger, he really does. “You’re hurt. That matters.” 

For a moment, she almost softens. The cold mask she’s plastered on cracks at the edges, revealing raw hurt. 

Uh, guys. Hate to break up this lovely argument, really, but we’ve got company. 

Blackjack is right. Pounding steps thunder along the opposite riverbank, rattling the leaves like a warning. Percy grabs Annabeth’s leg and hauls her onto the pegasus, trusting that she’ll do the rest herself. Usually he’d hop up first and ride in front, but he doesn’t trust her ability to hold on with that arm. 

Percy’s heartbeat doesn’t slow, not even once they’re in the sky with the riverbank far behind them. He’s almost certain Annabeth can feel it pressed against her. She leans back into Percy a bit heavier than necessary, occasionally jolting against his arms, which are around her to grip Blackjack’s mane. To say he’s freaking out would be an understatement. 

And then something drips from Annabeth’s bent elbow onto his arm. Percy balks when he sees it’s blood. 

“Fuck, Annabeth. You’re bleeding.” No response. “Annabeth??” 

Her head rolls on Percy’s shoulder. 

“Blackjack, hurry.” 

Blackjack doesn’t ask questions, just tucks his wings and dashes to camp. Percy can’t get his ambrosia without letting go of Annabeth, which simply isn’t in the cards. He wraps around her until his chest is sticky with their sweat. Sweat washes out. Losing Annabeth is a stain Percy could never scrub himself clean of. 

He doesn’t know what he says to her as they fly—probably some half-baked combination of you’re going to be okay, and we’re almost there, and if you survive this I swear I will kill you myself. 

Percy’s feet hit the ground a second after Blackjack’s hooves. They’re parked right on the porch of the Big House, interrupting a heated conversation between Chiron and Clarisse, who startle at the sight of Percy. Clarisse is the first to gather her wits. She moves to take Annabeth off Blackjack, which she is certainly the most qualified to do, but Percy beats her to it. 

“Jackson, you’re hurt,” she grunts, gesturing to his chest. “Let me.” 

“Not hurt,” Percy says. “Taking her to Michael.” 

Chiron’s tail swishes nervously. “Percy—”

“The river spirits are on our side,” he interrupts. “Now will one of you open the damn door?” 

Clarisse assists him through the doorways while Chiron goes to fetch Michael Yew from archery practice. If it weren’t Annabeth’s life on the line, Percy would feel bad for the guy. He hasn’t slept since Lee died last summer, especially not with the way the infirmary is looking. 

Chiron and Clarisse hover alongside Percy while Michael works his magic, sending up a healing hymn to his father after dressing the wound. He scolds Annabeth the moment she wakes, chastising her for not telling him sooner. After a glance at Chiron, he orders her bed rest for a week. 

“No. I have another mission in three days.” She looks at Clarisse. “You can’t do it without me.” 

Clarisse almost smiles at Annabeth’s petulance. “I’ll take Malcolm. Or maybe even Pipsqueak here.” She claps Percy on the back.

Annabeth’s tone turns pleading. “Chiron...” 

She finds the same unbending will. “No, child. This has gone too far. You’re to stay here until Michael releases you.” 

Michael looks less than thrilled to be subjected to Annabeth’s wrath for the next week. “Okay, Percy. Your turn.” 

“I’m not hurt.” 

Everyone’s eyes flash to Percy’s chest in doubt. He tears his gaze away from Annabeth to look.

Blood—Annabeth’s blood—runs down his shirt from the ride over. From an outside perspective, it looks like Percy’s very heart is bleeding out of his chest. 

She won’t look at him when he raises his gaze, so he supposes it is. 

“Blood’s not mine,” he mumbles. 

The room clears shortly after. 

Percy, however, is rooted to the floor beside Annabeth’s bed. She looks exhausted, though he can tell she’s trying to hide it while he’s still here. He should leave. So she can sleep. 

He can’t. 

“I would have been there for you,” he says, “if you told me.”

She almost laughs. What escapes is a bitter sound that’s foreign in her mouth. “Yeah, well. You’ve changed.” 

It’s a defensive lie, and they both know it. Percy has changed, but not to that degree. He will stop at nothing to pull his friends out of the water, even if it means drowning himself. Such is the way of a loyal creature. 

His voice is low in his chest, hurt resonating in his heart. “You know that’s not true.” 

Annabeth raises her chin. “Do I?” When have you been around to prove it? 

Michael pokes his head in the room, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Percy, Chiron wants to talk to you about the river spirits.” 

The silence is saturated, filled with blood just like the cotton of Percy’s shirt. “Sure. I’ll be out in a second.” 

Michael shifts his weight, creaking the floorboards. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.” 

When Percy looks back at Annabeth, her eyes are closed. The rigidity of her jaw gives her away, but Percy knows a sign when he sees one. So he leaves. 

[artificialqueens]

I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)

a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo

***

Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.

She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.

Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.

It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.

A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.

(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)

Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.

Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

***

A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.

A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.

(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)

But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.

The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.

Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.

A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.

She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.

It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.

(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)  

There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.  

Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.

“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”

“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”

Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”

“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”

“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.

“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.

“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”

“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”

Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”

“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”

“Joshua. Joshua White.”

Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”

“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.

“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.

“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.

Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”

A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.

Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”

“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.

***

Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.

Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.

So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.

It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.

Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”

Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”

“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”

Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”

“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.

A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”

“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”

A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”

Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.  

It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.

It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.

But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.

It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.

“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”

Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.

“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.

“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.

“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.

Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.

***

This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.

The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.

The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.

Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).

And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.

A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.

Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.

“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”

A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”

“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.

“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”

“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”

Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”

“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.

“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”

You do have that person. I’m that person.

A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.

Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).

She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.

“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”

A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.

“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.

“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.

“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.

But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.

Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.

When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.

She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.

The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.

“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.

When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.

“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”

“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”

Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.

“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”

“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”

Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.

However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.

“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”

When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”

A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.

“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”

“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.

A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.

“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.

Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.

“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.

When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.

When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.

“I love you too.”

[inchestothefloor]

some taywhora hcs for no reason at all

the accuracy of these is debatable but we move😎

- tayce always makes a big mess of her room when she’s getting ready

- a’whora goes round after her cleaning it all up bc she’s the only one familiar enough with all of tayce’s stuff to know where it all goes

- they’re both terrible chefs, but it usually falls upon tayce to make anything that requires a bit more skill than opening a tin

- she ropes a’whora in to be her sous chef every time bc ‘even you can follow instructions’

- except she really can’t and they always end up scrapping the whole thing anyway 

- a’whora tends to have the best taste in tv shows, and tayce will watch almost any genre

- so a’whora is always the one picking their next binge watch

- except for when tayce wants to watch a horror film, bc a’whora isn’t a fan at all

- however she does enjoy slashers, which ironically are the only ones tayce flat out refuses to watch

- a’whora has a fucking cast iron stomach, literally nothing gory or gross really phases her at all

- she’s the one who catches the spiders and ignores tayce telling her to let them go instead of killing them

- a’whora hates it when tayce goes to do the weekly shop alone

- bc tayce never pays attention to what they actually need, so she comes back with little moons and the newest flavour of gin but they haven’t actually had a loaf of bread in a week

- a’whora tries to write a list, but she always accidentally throws it away before she has the chance to give it to tayce

- tayce gets up at the crack of dawn every day and still manages to look fresh as a daisy

- a’whora can sleep for england, and cancels any plans before 11am

- tayce spends all the money on plants

- every time a’whora comes home there’s a new plant somewhere in the house

- ‘don’t look at me! she looked like she needed a nice stable loving home, and who was i to deny her?’

- a’whora rolls her eyes and tries to be annoyed, but tayce could burn the house down and she’d still be swooning

- tayce has the most unreal music taste ever

- it’s a really broad range of stuff and she has the perfect playlist for every situation ever

- a’whora listens exclusively to teen pop and demands little mix and/or the saturdays on every playlist tayce makes

- tayce protests but secretly she knows that shit slaps

- tayce is also the most motivated person ever

- she’s always got all her work done before a’whora has even thought about looking at hers

- a’whora always gets it done, but prefers to pull an all nighter the day before it’s due

- tayce stays up with her for moral support and is more than happy to furnish her with percy pigs at quarter to three on a wednesday night

- but if tayce is struggling with her work, she needs a’whora’s original recipe pot noodle sandwiches to get her through it bc she has a habit of giving up too quickly

- tayce has a major floating rock mentality and it baffles a’whora every time

- a’whora knows tayce’s phone password purely bc tayce forgets it too often

- a’whora guards her own password with her life for no particular reason - she has no reservations about leaving tayce with her unlocked phone

- a’whora is always stealing tayce’s expensive hair oils and she thinks she doesn’t notice (she does)

- half of the face masks tayce does are a’whora’s, partly as revenge but partly because for all the money tayce spends on her hair, a’whora spends double that on her skincare, so it’s always really good shit

- a’whora is a coffee person; tayce drinks herbal tea

- ‘london is going to your head, you hound’

- talking ab up north/wales a lot bc it really is like a different world to london

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Excision || Sg-Ish

Everywhere I look you're all I see Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be {x}

When people feel like home, and you experience being evicted enough, you decide that maybe a roof over your head isn’t worth the tears you shed in hotel rooms.

But if you burn down the house and collect the insurance, you don’t lose it to the tax man.

Ratchet fears nothing more than becoming predictable. Predictable is deadly, predictable is too trustworthy, predictable means weakness.

He knows, when breakfast becomes something he doesn’t forget. He knows, when he doesn’t have to mention how he prefers his coffee “nowadays”. He knows when the sex cools down but they still spend all day in bed because they want to be close.

They’ve become predictable. And now, Percy is a weakness. 

The Mad Mod Medic, the shadowy and conniving left hand to Prowl’s wild and selfish right- cannot have a weakness.

It’s never difficult, to shatter what they have. He just wishes sometimes that it would stay dead- stay dead and keep them both safe in the broken world they call their home.

His voice is the easiest tool- well-trained, low and smooth like the liquor he lies and says is all for show. Tall and cold and aloof and they flock to him. Like flies to a corpse, he sometimes thinks with a grimace as he fills a glass far too high before retreating to a bedroom full of cooing and giggling at his lavish lifestyle and he discards his outer layer- whatever it may be tonight.

Lab coat.

Medical jacket.

Suit jacket.

Many things, depending on what waters he’s fished dry this time.

He’s already called the other Kimia scientist - the one calling himself Ratchet’s “rival” in the world of modification.

He takes a long drink. The ice clatters softly.

And. And he’s called Drift. Much as he hates to admit it. How confusing his actions must be- intending to break a heart he’s cherished longer than most can remember and yet... he makes sure there’s a landing pad covered in down pillows and silk sheets.

He pauses a moment, sipping from the glass again as he lets his eyes close. He cannot cry. He removed that capacity a long time ago... But sometimes he wishes he could.

He opens the door, his winning and wild smile spread on his face as he’s greeted with blushes and coy laughter alike.

“And evening worth the price, to be sure.”, he muses as the door shuts.

He doesn’t realize morning has arrived until he hears yelling. He opens one eyes, his head pounds like a drum, and he sits up- wincing at the pull on marks and scratches over his back, his torso, his hips.

There’s Percy, eyes pouring tears and smearing the cosmetics he wears to his scarring- thick dark lines like runny kohl over his cheeks.

“ELEVEN?! ELEVEN FUCKING INTERNS IN THE SAME BED YOU BLEW MY BACK OUT IN?!”

“You knew the kind of man I am when we met, darling.”

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME DARLING AFTER THIS, YOU HALF-SLAUGHTERED PIG!”

Ratchet raises an arm as an empty glass bottle is slung at him, overhand. It shatters ono a reinforced forearm. He says nothing.

“I TOLD YOU I LOVE YOU.”

“We all say things we don’t mean.”, says Ratchet coldly, hating the way the words taste on top of his hangover.

“YOU FUCKING KNOW I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IT, YOU... YOU!!”

“Yes, yes- me, me, me. You do realize they stamped MALIGNANT NARCISISST all over my psych records, correct? But then again you’ve always been sexually attracted to red flags.”

Percy went to speak, but thought better of it. The back of his hand over his mouth and he turned on his heel... and ran. It felt childish, it looked foolish. But he ran.

He ran away from the bedroom and down the stairs and nearly stumbled- catching himself on the doorframe and choked on a sob he couldn’t let free.

The door opened, Brainstorm’s rage-painted face an easy focal point as Percy stumbles to him and clings tight with a soft whimper. The scientist sighs, hugging the Wrecker back, and looking up to the figure of Ratchet coming down the stairs- daydrinking at a quarter to ten in the morning.

“It’s getting to the point, Ratchet...”, began Brainstorm with a sigh, “That maybe just killing him would be safer.”

Ratchet says nothing, gesturing back to the door Brainstorm entered from and waiting for the pair to vanish from the house.

Drift will find the CMO hours later- after drowning his sorrows that he refuses to admit to while laying not-quite gracefully on a couch that could be collateral on a one family home. Drift will sigh, and shake his head, and pull Ratchet’s arm over his shoulders.

The normally so together and composed medic, will whisper the name of the heart he broke that morning, and Drift will drop him on a bed still a mess from the last excursion.

Percy will stay up to late. He’ll drink tea with shaking hands that match his stuttering heartbeat.

He’ll stare at stars he hasn’t trusted in forgotten decades, and he’ll sip tea, and swear he’ll NEVER fall for it again.

He will. They always do.

[jajanvm-imbi]

The Two Princes Podcast Season 3 Reaction: Episode 7

RUPERT’S SOLO OSHSJWKHROWJQKHDW

YES NOAH GALVIN HIT THOSE HIGH NOTES

THIS SONG IS SO B E A U T I F U L IM S O B B I N G JAHWODHKQKQQLLDNKEIQMBDNW

Yay they’re back!!!!!

Percy’s first instinct was to warn Joan I love that

PERCY HUGGING JOAN AND JOAN HATING IT WAS AMAZING

👏 LET 👏 PERCY 👏 KISS 👏 A 👏 BOY 👏 2020 👏

We love Joan’s dad apologizing and being supportive 

“Don’t tell Rupy and Amir but I have not been paying attention” I LOVE CECILY SO MUCH SHE’S SO FUNNY

Cecily’s reaction to Joan finally asking her out was so cute and pure I love it

JOAN AND CECILY DOING THE “Shut up and kiss me” “I thought you’d never ask” MADE MY HEART MELT YESS GOOD FOR THEM

Barabbas and Chamberlin going on a date warms my heart

Chamberlin saying “Stranger things have certainly happened” in that tone kinda makes me uncomfy LIKE WHAT IS THAT IMPLYING???? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???? Like after finding those weird “romance” novels I’m kind of nervous about what Chamberlin meant by that line. Jesus

RUMIR OFFICIALLY ADOPTING WENCESLAUS ANKSFNDJFBAEOFJNESJFBNASOFSIG

WENCESLAUS GETS TO BE A PRINCE AND HIM BEING EXCITED ABOUT IT AFNCAEFN,ERGNSODGKJBESIOFJG\

THEY ARE NOW PARENTS OMG

Darling, sweetie, I love you, but thinking you were going to be executed is a bit dramatic

The fairy queen’s accent reminds me of Peppa Pig in a way idk why

 DARLING GETS TO GO HOME AND RULE HIS PEOPLE AGAIN YES LET HIM BE HAPPY 

“because I’m nICE” the fairy queen is highkey funny

“still wanna marry me?” “try and stop me” GOD THAT WAS SO CUTE I LOVE THEM

I’m gonna be honest, I am so disappointed with the wedding scene. I mean we’ve been anticipating this moment for so long and we only get like a 1 min scene. I was fully expecting them to sing their vows or something but nope, 1 min scene it is

However it was cute that they referenced the “micromanaging every little situation” and “overreacting to every little situation” from season 1. That was kinda cute

I’m sorry but I absolutely H A T E  the “Time to bring those big, beautiful lips over here, my love”. THAT MADE ME SO UNCOMFY WHO APPROVED THAT LINE AND WHY PLEASE STOP

I ALSO HATE THE “and I definitely can’t wait for tonight…” “oh yeah….” EXCHANGE BETWEEN RUPERT AND AMIR WHO THE FUCK GAVE THEM PERMISSION TO SAY THAT OMG STOP PLEASE I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PG FAMILY FRIENDLY I’M SO UNCOMFY

The last song was cute, and don’t get me wrong I think Noah Galvin and Ari’el Stachel are super talented BUT it felt like the song was recorded once and not given a second thought. Like they could have definitely sung that last song better, I’m sorry

[achillesmercury1996]

Get to Know Me Tag

Thanks for the tag, @stressedinadress this one was so much fun!

 MUSIC

fave genre? Classic rock / pop / indie / classical / swing era / instrumental anything tbh

fave artist? Band: The 1975 / Standalone: Elton John

fave song? Me by The 1975

most listened song recently? Hah! Industry Baby by Lil Nas X

song currently stuck in your head? For the first time in a while, I don’t have a song stuck in my head, so bless

5 fave lyrics? Okay, I lit hate lyrics questions, so these are just lyrics I like in general. I’m not a huge music fanatic tbh, so I don’t have lyrics that ~speak to me~

"I was thinking about killing myself/don’t you mind?” Me - The 1975

"And did you think this fool could never win?/Well look at me, I’m a-comin’ back again!” I’m Still Standing - Elton John

“I don’t fuck bitches, I’m queer!” Industry Baby - Lil Nas X

“All men are pigs/all men but me.” All Men Are Pigs - Studio Killers

“I get a little bit Genghis Khan/Don’t want you to get it on with nobody else but me!” Genghis Khan - Miike Snow

This or That: MUSIC

radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or silent volume I slow or fast songs | music video or lyrics video | speakers or headset| riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on

BOOKS

fav book genre? Fiction / Fantasy / Romance

fav writer? Madeline Miller / Casey McQuiston

fav book? The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

fav book series? I don’t read series actually...

comfort book? The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller and Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston 

perfect book to read on a rainy day? Shit, fam, any of em!

fave characters? Achilles, Patroclus, Alex Clairmont-Diaz, Henry Prince of Wales, Percy Newton, Monty Montague, Richie Tozier, Poe Dameron

5 quotes from your fave books that you know by heart?

Respectfully, I am not doing this one...I don’t remember quotes from books, quite the same as with song lyrics. There are some I like, but none that I’m like, SHIT FAM, THIS QUOTE. I’m not that deep.

This or That: BOOKS

hardcover or paperback | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary | rereading or reading just once

TV AND MOVIES

fave tv/movie genre? sci-fi / realistic / adventure / action

fave movie? Homie, I don’t have a favorite movie, ever...I just dig what I dig at the time, you feel me?

comfort movie(s)? Okay, I’m a sick individual, and some of my comfort movies should 5000% NOT be comfort movies, but they are...and you’ll know which ones...okay...Lady Bird / The Bling Ring / Marie Antoinette / Midsommar / IT: Chapter 1 / IT: Chapter 2 / Blackfish / The Florida Project / I, Tonya / The Pianist 

fave tv show? Stranger Things / Atypical / Anne With an E / American Horror Story / Charite At War / Versailles / Junjou Romantica / Girlboss / Avatar: The Last Airbender

most rewatched tv show? I literally go back and rewatch Junjou Romantica at least once a year since like, college, so...

5 fave characters? Poe Dameron / Richie Tozier / Zuko / Tony Stark / Steve Rogers

This or That: TV AND MOVIES

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once

I tag: @bowtiescarves @dearscone @blueeyedrichie and anyone else who wants to do this, too! 

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Chapter 3 "What, Like It's Hard?"

Title: Legally Ginger Chapter 3: "What Like It's Hard?"

Rating: Teen (I'm sorry Ron and I are equally fond of the f word)

Summary: Based off the movie Legally Blonde. Ron makes the move to Boston but his Harvard career is off to a rough start.

Author Notes: I do want to caveat that not everyone who attends an Ivy League school is a snob so no offense to anyone that did; it’s just a fun romcom stereotype.

Additionally, I felt the need to address that it can be a bit scary for anyone to stalk someone across the country but particularly a man stalking a woman across country is historically problematic. Unfortunately, given it's basically the entire plot of this story, we can't completely avoid it. So remember, this is a fun thing in movies but a red flag in real life.

And yes, I do crib more from the movie on the curriculum. I did not attend law school and can use the help. So I bolded the language that was either verbatim or heavily cribbed from the movie.

Chapter title is a movie quote.

Thank you so much to adnei for all of the beta help and feedback!

I've been so excited to share this chapter with all of you and I think when you get to the end, you'll know why. Let me know what you think!

Link to AO3 or read more below.

“All set then?” asked his dad, closing the back of the old Ford Escape Bill had passed off to him.

“I think that’s all of it,” Ron agreed.

“Well, I’ll go get your mother then to see you off,” Dad said.

The twins and Ginny were standing on the curb, having already loaded the boxes they carried in the vehicle.

“Well, in two days, you’ll be knocking on Astoria’s door to find out if this crazy plan worked.”

Ron laughed. “Not exactly. Hopefully I run into her the first week.”

George’s jaw dropped. “You spent 90k of Muriel’s cash and wasted the best party semester of your life to hope to run into her?”

He hadn’t gone the entire spring semester without seeing Stori. She’d sought him out a few times for a bit of, as she put it, mutual stress relief, but refused to discuss anything further about their relationship. She had bid him a teary goodbye at their commencement ceremony, where he had been evasive about his post graduation plans.

“The point was to be worthy of her, not scare her. Ginny, imagine you get drafted by the Red Stars and suddenly that douche you dated, Corner, is working there as the strength and conditioning coach. You’d be freaked out.”

“It’s a good point,” said Ginny.

“Look, I’ll show up, I’ll get to know everyone, make my connections, and charm the professors. She’ll know I’m there without me ever telling her.”

“You never faded into the background at CULA,” Fred agreed.

“I’ll say hi if I see her but she’ll be knocking on my door by October,” Ron said confidentially.

“Oh yeah?” George’s voice was skeptical.

“You didn’t think I’d make it this far,” pointed out Ron. “It’s… it’s got to work.”

Suddenly, he felt his confidence drop. Was this a stupid plan?

“Best of luck, bro,” said Fred, giving him a one armed hug.

“Regardless of everything… Ron, you got into Harvard. Harvard. Don’t let them take that away from you,” Ginny said fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, you sound like Mom now,” Ron said, brushing her off before his cheeks could burn. “Where’s she at? I’m burning daylight here.”

“I’m right here,” said his mom, walking out the front door of the ranch home he’d grown up in, holding a cooler. “I have some sandwiches to at least get you through the first day on the road,”

“First hour maybe,” George scoffed.

“Thanks Mom,” he took the cooler and stuck it in the car. When he turned back around, his dad had joined them again.

“Well, this is it,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh… Ginny, go pack a bag and join your brother. We’ll buy you a plane ticket home. Or I can come along,” his mom blurted out, nervously twisting her hands.

“Mom,” Ron groaned.

“Molly, he’ll be okay,” his dad said gently.

“Call me once a day,” Mom said. “Just during the trip,” she added, when Ron started to object.

“Okay,” he agreed. He drew her into a hug.

After he’d said goodbye to each of them, he whistled. “Pig, come on boy!” The pug ran across the yard and allowed Ron to scoop him up and put him in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and swallowed hard. Was this a big mistake?

“We’re so proud of you, son,” his dad said.

“We’ll see you at Christmas?” his mom asked.

Ron didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded and closed the car door. He started the vehicle and with one last wave, he backed out of the driveway.

**********************************************

Five days later, Ron’s alarm was blaring.

“What fucking time is it?” he muttered, slamming the sleep button. In response, Pig grunted and rolled over.

It had been four days of naps and showers at truck stops, coffee, Monster, and fast food but he’d arrived yesterday in order to get a decent night’s sleep before today’s orientation. He, however, had failed to calculate in the three hour time difference that combined with his driving fatigue, was wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

He sighed and went to a still packed box marked “clothes”. He immediately groaned. His khakis were wrinkled as hell. Should have hung them in the bathroom last night when he showered to at least get a little help from the steam.

Luckily, he had a couple dress shirts in the garment bag with his sports coat and two suits. During his brother Percy’s summer visit, he’d used one of Ron’s rare free days to take him shopping. Percy had gotten some advice from a friend of his that attended the University of Chicago on law school attire and had insisted Ron needed at least three suits.

Ron, who was expecting that this whole thing would be wrapped up by spring, balked at the idea but finally agreed to one new suit to go with the one he already owned, a blazer, khakis, and a few polo shirts. He had shirts and tie combos from various formal and semi-formal events, but doubted he’d need much of it. Percy’s friend had said classes were business casual and while his golf shirts were comfortable enough, Ron really hoped that by the second week, everyone was wearing hoodies in class.

He finished getting ready and then grabbed Pig’s leash. “Come on boy,” he prodded the slumbering pug. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be holding it all day.”

They walked the campus, enjoying the morning quiet. While it didn’t give Ron the ease and sense of belonging CULA did, it was an impressive campus. For a moment, he wished he’d taken his mom up on the offer to come out with him - she’d love to see this. He hated the loneliness he felt and was glad to see Pig do his business. Sooner he could get to orientation and meet some people, the better.

********************************

Orientation had been a mix of boring and interesting. He’d slipped in right at the last minute and sat in the back row to ensure he went unnoticed if he were in the same group of students as Astoria. Luckily, he didn’t notice her in the room. While he missed her terribly, he hadn’t come this far to destroy his plans now, and running into her before classes even started was not the plan.

Now they had moved into the social mixer part of the evening, which he was delighted to see that unlike undergrad, law school mixers included booze.

“Uh… you have anything local?” Ron asked the bartender.

“Nothing craft but I do have Dogfish Head,” the bartender said.

“That’ll do,” Ron responded, sticking a dollar in the tip cup. Had Astoria accepted his proposal, maybe he would have pursued the Boston Beer job and he’d have cases of this stuff in their kitchen. The bartender handed him a glass full of his other life and he wandered over to a small group of people, chatting.

“Hi, Ron Weasley,” he said sticking out his hand to the woman on his right.

“Uh, hi,” she said, sounding surprised but not unfriendly. “Lisa Turpin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ernie MacMillan,” said a blonde man, standing next to Lisa. Ron shook his hand and then shook the hand of the man next to him who introduced himself as Jack Sloper.

“We were just discussing undergrads,” Ernie said. “Jack and I were both Princeton men, although I took a gap year in Europe so different classes. Lisa here was an Eli. How about you?”

Ron inwardly winced. This guy sounded so pompous. An Eli, really? Anyone who watched a few seasons of Gilmore Girls knew what that was. Ron took a deep breath. “West coast here. I graduated from CULA.”

“That’s a solid state school system,” said Ernie. It wasn’t an insult, but when he said it, somehow it sounded like one.

“Yeah, well, it got the job done,” he said, forcing his friendliest tone.

“What were your undergrad degrees in?” Jack asked the group.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a stereotype. Political science for me,” Ernie chuckled.

“Same,” said Lisa. “Although I double majored in French.”

“I was a double major as well. Economics and Spanish,” Jack responded.

“There just wasn’t time for a double major while I was student body president, I’m afraid,” Ernie said. “What about you, Ron?”

“Uh, yeah, just the one major for me. Food science,” he said self-consciously.

“Food science,” Lisa repeated, her tone again not unfriendly but certainly not welcoming. Ron’s whole body stiffened.

“Like cooking?” asked Jack skeptically.

“No, there are a few different concentrations but I was focused on food biochemistry and microbiology,” he explained.

“I think the only micro I’m aware of with food is microwaves or microbrewing,” Jack said, letting out a condescending chuckle.

“Actually, brewing was a big part of my internship last summer. I was at Anheuser-Busch working on their new sustainable brewing initiative,” he said.

“Interesting,” said Lisa. “Ernie, where did you spend your time abroad?”

“I assume you’re interested in whether I spent any time in France, which I can assure you that I did.”

“I hope when you say France, you don’t just mean Paris,” said Jack and Ron was glad to see his condescension focused on someone else.

Ernie laughed loudly in response. “Of course not.”

Ron took a big swig of his beer. This was going to be a long night.

***********************

Ron shifted his backpack as he carefully studied the room numbers next to each door. Everyone else looked so comfortable and confident and he wondered if all of his fellow students had mapped out their routes in advance of the first day of classes.

His eyes were so busy shifting from the left side of the hallway to the right that he failed to notice someone stopped right in front of him until he slammed into them.

“Ooof,” he said. “I’m sor - ”

“Ron?!”

Of course he had just walked right into Astoria.

Astoria stood there, mouth hanging open as she stared at him. Despite the gormless look on her face, she looked absolutely gorgeous with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight curled ponytail, the kind he used to love to pull out at the end of the day. Even though it was just barely September, she was wearing an orange cardigan and he thought about how she obsessively dressed in what she called “the colors of the season”.

“Hey there,” he forced out in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Going to class,” Ron responded. “Don’t want to be late; see you!” He took broad steps around and away from her.

Ron let out a sigh of relief as his classroom was the next one he spotted. He took a deep breath as he walked into the lecture hall for his first class. He spotted a seat near the middle of the room that felt like the right place for the impression he wanted to make.

“Hey,” he greeted the guy next to him. The guy nodded, not even looking up from his laptop. Ron shrugged and pulled his computer out of his bag and powered it up.

While it was sooner than he had hoped, Ron had played it pretty cool with Astoria during their chance meeting. Short and to the point, nothing dumb or embarrassing said. His most successful interaction at Harvard to date.

While he was congratulating himself, a severe looking older woman walked purposefully to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

“Welcome to the start of your legal education,” she said. “I’m Professor McGonagall.”

As the professor began to speak about the syllabus, Ron allowed his mind to wander back to Astoria. She hadn’t looked upset or angry to see him, merely surprised. Maybe a bit uncomfortable, which was understandable. She also looked phenomenal. It had been way too long since they had been together and he had almost forgotten how stunning she was.

“Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele?”

Ron looked up with a start. “Huh?”

Professor McGonagall was standing right in front of him, looking annoyed. “Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele as it relates to subject matter jurisdiction?”

“Uh…” Ron said, shocked. “It’s the first day of class.”

The classroom was now silently watching him.

“Did you not read the first fifty pages of the assigned text?” McGonagall asked.

“I didn’t realize there was an assignment,” Ron said nervously. He heard a snort behind him and his head whipped around to look at the source.

Professor McGonagall seemed to hear the snort too and shifted her focus. “And you, young man? You could answer my question?”

“Of course,” the smartass snorter said. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

Oh, thought Ron. This guy is the worst.

“So would you support my decision to ask this student to remove himself from class until he’s prepared?”

Ron froze.

“Yes Professor,” said the cocky douchebag.

Professor McGonagall motioned to Ron. “Once you’re prepared, you will be welcomed back to class. Until then…”

Ron packed up his laptop, completely stunned. He gave a hard stare at the messy haired jerk, who smirked back at him as he stomped out of the room.

**********************

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Where the fuck does she get the right… and that fucking douchebag,” Ron muttered.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out from behind him. “That’s more profanity than I care to hear in a week, let alone at 8:30 on a Monday.”

Ron looked up, irritated by the interruption to his own self pity. The reprimand came from a pretty curly haired brunette perched on a neighboring bench, a giant stack of books beside her. Despite her scolding words, she had a hint of a smile. A smile that actually looked friendly.

“Sorry,” he said, ears turning red. “I just… are they always that mean?”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, like, call you out like that. My professors have always liked me all right,” Ron replied, feeling quite embarrassed to explain this to her.

“Yes, they tend to do that. Socratic method,” said the woman.

“Ah,” he responded. He knew the name Socrates thanks to his philosophy major ex, but nothing of the method.

“Were you with McGonagall?”

“Yeah. She kicked me out!”

The brunette made a sympathetic noise.

“She ever kick you out?”

The woman now looked scandalized. “Never! But I had nightmares about her my whole first week. Who else do you have?”

“Uh, Sprout, Slughorn, Umbridge…”

“Umbridge likes when you speak up in class but make sure you always concede to her in the end. Slughorn’s kind of pretentious but if you make good use of your thesaurus for his papers, he’s easy to please.”

“Nice, thanks,” Ron said, nodding his head with a slight smile. She grinned back at him.

“This place is tough; don’t let one setback your first day throw you off,” she urged.

“I’m glad I picked this bench. So what year are - ”

“Ron? Can we talk?” Astoria was standing in front of him, looking a bit nervous.

“If you want,” he said carefully.

“Please,” she said, taking a few steps back. Ron lifted a hand in goodbye to the girl on the bench before approaching Astoria.

“So… you’re at Harvard,” she said nervously, rubbing her right hand over her left.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“And… you got into Harvard,” Astoria said.

“Clearly,” he answered, a bit irritated by her tone. She didn’t really think he was an idiot, did she?

“How was your first class? “

“It could have been better,” Ron admitted.

“That’s because you-you don’t belong here,” Astoria said. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m trusting that you’re not here to, like stalk me or hurt me or something. Regardless, this just isn’t something you can do. The people that are going to be successful here… they’re like, bred for this. And it’s not you. I didn’t break up with you to be a bitch. This just isn’t something you’re cut out for.”

“Stori - ” he tried to interrupt.

“And Ron, it costs a fortune to go here! How are you even covering this? I still care about you. Please, just cut your losses now,” she pleaded.

“No way,” said Ron, feeling the fire to prove himself ignite. “Look, my first class was rough but it’s because I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how all of this works. Now I do. Frankly, that asshole that got me kicked out did me a favor because - ”

“Stori, there you are.” Out of nowhere, the aforementioned asshole from class appeared and slung a possessive arm around Astoria’s shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said, biting her lower lip and no longer meeting Ron’s eyes.

“We haven’t properly met although, after that disaster in class, maybe it’s pointless,” chuckled the douchebag.

“Ron, this is Harry Potter… my fiancé.”

Ron clenched his jaw but he knew his ears were reddening in a dead giveaway. “Really?”

“Harry was my high school boyfriend. We reconnected this spring and it just felt… right,” Astoria answered awkwardly.

“Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks buddy,” Harry said, voice dripping in mock sincerity.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go,” Ron said. Summoning every ounce of self control he had, he quickly walked in the direction of his residence hall, Astoria calling after him.