#she should contain multitudes

[empyreasheart]

its really funny to me that sora is pretty chill about naminé inserting herself into his memories . hes like :) whatever makes you happy naminé!

[bisupergirl]

superman: secret files 2009 || action comics #1032

kara being able to fix kelex after he breaks because she used to tinker with the robot her family had back on krypton when she wanted to sneak out with thara <3 i love women in stem <3

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT,

Forgive me if this is a stupid question, but I absolutely love the recs you've given (you've introduced me to tomione, and I love it!) and I was wondering if it's possible to give you some recs in return? There are some books and fics that definitely have dramione / got vibes, and I was wondering if I could share them with you!

So glad you've enjoyed them! Feel free to rec me anything you want. I've read most of the classic recs in terms of fic and adjacent content (Cruel Prince et al), but I'll try anything that's well-written. My tastes run towards weird and/or audaciously creative stuff, and I can forgive a lot of weaknesses in plot on the grounds of (1) ambition or (2) character work. My turnoffs are instalove, protagonists who can't fail, and most Y/A (I'm not a hater, I swear, I just need characters who can say "fuck" when their leg gets chopped off.)

I'm also a fan of weird and fucked-up dynamics.(Wuthering Heights was my favorite book for a while, and as a teenager I wrote an AU in which the book ends on a long sex scene where Heathcliff fucks Cathy's ghost and then immediately gets murdered by Catherine 2.) Obviously, I am very normal.

[duelblades]

i'm on mobile and i know if i try searching for the meme i won't be able to find it but uuh .... hit the 💜 for a smoochie kiss from emilia in your inbox!

[thatscarletflycatcher]

‘Steve,’ said Temple suddenly, the thought of food in the immediate future possibly giving him the idea.

‘Yes?’ she said, with a curious smile.

‘I was wondering if, er, you . . .’ He broke off. For perhaps the first time Paul Temple knew what it meant when he used the word ‘bashful’ in one of his novels.

‘Well?’ prompted Steve.

‘If you’d—er—care to have dinner with me on … on Thursday?’ he said.

‘Thursday? Yes, of course,’ she said happily. ‘I’d love to.’

'Good. I shall be in town, so perhaps we can . . . er . . . lunch together, too?’

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘Why not?’

‘We might even manage to have tea together, as a sort of, er—

‘I’d love to,’ she replied softly.

‘Oh, er, splendid,’ he said. ‘Well, that’s about all. Of course, there is breakfast, but—’

‘I always have breakfast in bed.’

‘In bed?’

‘Yes, in bed.’

‘Well, that’s a bit awkward!’

‘Of course,’ put in Steve a trifle glibly, ‘we could get married.’

‘Yes, I suppose we—’ Temple suddenly gasped. ‘I say... are you proposing?’

‘What do you think, Mr. Temple?’ she asked brightly, in a voice that was a perfect imitation of his. ‘What do you think?’

--Francis Durbridge, Send For Paul Temple (1938)

[earl-grey-crow]

~groovy~

[qualityrain]

you have to describe hny but u cannot mention or allude to worst toxic guy ever x innocent uwu girl trope and/or the super girlboss x pathetic guy she puts in his place dynamic or else the anvil will drop on your head

[silvr-skreen]

misty and diane being both incredibly competent but that leading them into the trap of condescension to others and/or the belief they know the other person's abilities better than they do.

nyx hates his boss because: I CANT WALK TODAY FUCK YOU MEAN GET UP?

[trif333cta]

i love blurring lines between being character and being obsessed w them

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

Things that actually happen in hunchback of notre dame, in no particular order

The book mostly is told from the POV of Pierre, a self-insert who is failed author and, I cannot stress this enough, utterly pathetic 

Quasimodo damaged his hearing as a teenager from years of bell ringing and now uses sign language whenever he can

There is a scene where Quasimodo and a fellow deaf guy have to have a conversation without using sign language because they’re in a courtroom and the jury doesn’t know sign. It goes about as well as you’d expect 

Frollo has a little brother, Jehan, who he raised after their parents died. Jehan is now a frat bro in college whose hobbies consist of getting drunk and being mean to Quasimodo. In his first scene Jehan complains about college DEI because an Italian guy got a scholarship he wanted. 

Esmeralda is accused of witchcraft because she taught her pet goat Djali how to do math

Djali may or may not be sapient. He can and does imitate human mannerisms to make fun of people on purpose. He does this while on trial. 

Yes. They tried the goat for witchcraft, too. 

Pierre writes a whole play riding on the pun of dolphin/Dauphin. Nobody likes it. 

Frollo is an alchemist and has a secret mad science lab where he writes on the walls

Jehan literally pulls a “buy my silence” and frollo gives him money to make him shut up

There’s a trio of catty girls who bully Esmeralda like it’s Mean Girls

Quasimodo and Frollo literally have Cryptid Status— Parisians circulate rumors that Quasimodo is either a familiar, a homunculus, or the result of demonic mpreg, and that Frollo is a wizard with wizard powers and/or a ghost

There is a little old woman who lives in a hole and shouts slurs at people. She has a tragic backstory. 

There is a homicidal con man/king of thieves named Clopin Troillefou (surname translation: The Fool of Fear) who deserves tumblr sexymanhood.

Pierre learns how to carry chairs with his teeth 

There’s an entire chapter dedicated to the layout of the streets of Paris in painstaking detail

There’s another chapter that is a rant about interior design 

Esmeralda and Pierre get platonically married due to Clopin’s murderous shenanigans. Pierre tries to make a move in her but ends up being more emotionally attached to Djali the goat than to her. I think that should be grounds for divorce

There is a scene where Pierre has to choose between helping Esmeralda escape or helping Djali. He picks Djali. 

Frollo hides from his own brother by laying face down in mud and playing dead. Somehow this works 

There is a Plot Significant Tiny Shoe. A Tiny Shoe Chekhov’s Gun. And Victor Hugo will not stop telling you just how Tiny this shoe is. 

There’s a soap opera style plot twist that involves a false accusation of cannibalism and the woman in the hole who shouts slurs

Quasimodo makes up a stupid little song that doesn’t even rhyme to confess his love to Esmeralda, who remains oblivious

He then attempts to demonstrate his affection via convoluted metaphors that involve props. She doesn’t get it. Boy please say what you mean

Frollo pulls the classic discord groomer tactic of threatening self-harm if Esmeralda doesn’t give in. 

Jehan rolls up to a party/rescue mission scheming session in Clopin’s secret hideout in full plate armor (how did he get that???), drunk off his ass, and acts like he owns the place. Everyone finds this so ridiculous that they just let him

Hugo goes on and on about how innocent and naive Esmeralda is but then casually reveals that Esmeralda carries a dagger on her person at all times to fend off assault. When Frollo attacks her and Quasi intervenes, she takes Quasi’s knife and almost kills Frollo (fair!) but he flees. She contains multitudes?

Frollo has a psychotic breakdown in the middle of a field surrounded by chickens and hallucinates skeletons everywhere 

For the first half of the book Esmeralda is like 70% sure Frollo is a ghost, not helped by his aforementioned Cryptid Status

Jehan eats a moldy piece of cheese off the ground 

Frollo tries to send Pierre on a suicide mission in drag. Pierre objects to the suicide part but not the drag part  

Clopin’s preferred weapon is a scythe, he’s very good at using it, and he sings when he fights. Again: sexyman potential. 

Victor Hugo has a foot fetish. I initially dismissed it as Frollo having a foot fetish until Victor Hugo included a foot fetish torture scene without any Frollo in it. So I can only conclude that the foot fetish is authorial in nature. Unfortunately the foot scenes are important to the plot. 

Frollo is canonically 36, he just aged like shit and is bald. The narrator will not stop telling you just how bald he is.

Despite being in full plate armor, Jehan gets splatted like a bug

Almost every named character dies. Djali the goat lives. 

[corvigae]

Character decision I'm making for Elowen: she does not particularly care for Astarion, or at least she has no patience for his bullshit.

[lambilegs]

contains: nsft content (minors + ageless blogs dni), modern!au, "daddy" used as a title, reader receiving strap on + fingering from sevika, breeding kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, sevika teasing reader for being tight, reader's body is referred to with the terms: "pussy," "clit," "tits," kinda semi-public idk

best friend's older sister!sevika who you need to sneak around with because it's that hard to find a minute alone with her during your friend group's sleepover.

your friends are at your side every minute of the day, all of you sprawled together on the couches through the afternoon, then later helping each other get ready to head to the club. you don't even get a split second to show sevika how you look, for as soon as your outfit is patted in place by your friends, your uber is here and all of you are rushing out.

by the time you all return to your best friend's house, giggling and stumbling through the door, sevika is seated on the couch, typing away on her laptop. as you all pass the living room to head up the stairs, the two of you lock eyes, your stomach twisting and turning with excitement as her eyes scan over your body, her jaw clenching in what you can only hope is desire.

as all of your friends take turns hopping in and out of the shower, you jerk up from where you're lying down on the floor when your phone rings with a notification. the words immediately have your entire body prickling with anticipation, feeling as though the simple sentences have set you aflame.

When it's your turn to shower, text me. I'll meet you in the bathroom.

a painfully, agonizingly long forty minutes later, you carefully push the door open to the bathroom, gulping hard when you find sevika there, already topless and in a pair of basketball shorts. you've seen her in this state before, of course you have, but still, it makes your chest throb in a multitude of ways. both for the eagerness from knowing what's to come, and the domesticity of seeing her like this, casually half-nude and waiting for you in the bathroom. if you let yourself soften the moment with a tinge of daydreaming, you can almost picture how blissful it'd be years from now, doing your skincare routine as she lingers nearby, leaning on the wall and talking to you.

those tender ideas blur away when she faces you, your eyes immediately skipping down to the thick line of hair starting at her stomach and fluttering wider at the centre of her hips. you feel hungry for it, wanting to feel that bush of hair rub against yours as the two of you claw at each other for more touch, more words, more moans. more, more, more. you don't think you'll ever get enough of her.

and just an inch or two lower, and god, there's a bulge.

she leans against the counter, crossing her arms and a subtle smirk. "something caught your eye?"

her voice is low and quiet amidst the blaring fan in the bathroom, the cool touch of which sends goosebumps popping along your sweat-soaked back.

"I should be asking you that," you drawl, sauntering over to her to wrap your arms around her neck. "you're the one who asked me to meet here, remember?"

she wraps her arms around your waist, her rough hand sliding up your top as she pulls your body against the hard planes of hers. the scent of the coconut oil seeping through her hair infuses your nose, and you breathe it in deeply as her nose brushes against yours. "I do remember. but, do you want a verbal answer for that? or can I show you?"

with every article of clothing she peels off you, your skin is met with hot, wet kisses, her tongue lapping the sweat coating it and making your body arch in pleasure. when she tugs your top off, her hands are immediately groping your tits, mouth sucking eagerly on your nipples. she devours your body like a woman starved, soft, pink tongue swiping at the stiffened nubs and making you close your thighs together in sensitivity. it only worsens when she playfully skims the line of her teeth along them, her grey eyes carefully locked on your face, which heats up in response, knowing you must look incredibly glossed over and aroused right now. especially once your noises start joining the mix, a choked out gasp wrenching out of your throat when she takes turn sucking harshly on them, her mouth so rough that your chest keeps pumping out in her direction.

your hand flies to your mouth when a sharp knock is pounded against the door, your name loudly called. "bro, hurry up, I still reek of alcohol."

"s-sorry," you stutter out, nails digging into sevika's shoulders when her large hands cup your ass, fingers digging into the plush of it as she walks backwards in the direction of the shower.

after rubbing your aching pussy and spending a few minutes with two fingers plunging in and out of your hole, she has you cornered in the shower, the steam coating both your bodies in delicious, moist heat. her large chest is lodged right up against yours, her hand kneading at the back of your thigh as she coaxes you to lift one foot up on the ledge. an act with only gets her purple strap hitting even deeper in you, her sharp, measured thrusts making your eyes roll back.

as per usual, she's relentless, keeping you pinned to the wall as her hips snap against yours, creating wet-sounding smacks that only add to your arousal. in the heated, wet cube of the shower, you feel utterly surrounded by her, the two of your bodies intertwining as one as she fucks you hard and fast, the thick length of her drilling into you with such strength that it causes your back to keep sliding up and down the slippery tiles of the wall.

"you'd have thought that I would've loosened you up by now," she mutters against your jaw, her words barely audible from the rain of the shower. "but, no, just as tight as when I first fucked this pussy."

you moan loudly, eyes fluttering shut as your neck arches up. "god-- fuck, sevi--"

she immediately takes the bait in your movements, her teeth sinking into your skin as she sucks a harsh mark, the sting of it making your toes curl.

“you trying to get us caught or something?” she hisses, her tone sharp with discipline. “keep that mouth shut.”

your eyebrows scrunch together in pure, unadulterated pleasure, your pussy tightening when she plasters her prosthetic hand to your face, keeping you quiet as she continues pumping her cock into you. while you can barely tame and hold in your little squeaks and moans, sevika manages to get by, panting heavily as her gaze remains honed in on your face. you can tell all of this is starting to get to her more, her eyes ablaze and unfocused.

"you looked good," she whispers harshly, her nails digging harder into the plush of your thigh. "real good."

you bite your lip from behind the covering of her hand, a wide grin spilling onto your face.

sevika seems to notice it, her gaze shifting over your crinkled eyes, inciting a low chuckle of her own. her hand slides away from your mouth, which is immediately seized by her lips, her hips continue to rut up as her tongue laps softly at yours, wet and messy.

her hand squeezes your thigh one last time before resting on your stomach, pinching it lightly and inciting a soft squeal from you.

"gonna dump so much come in here," she murmurs quietly. "but, that's what you want, right? running in here so eagerly when you realized there’s a chance your cunt’s gonna get loaded. and right in the middle of a sleepover too.”

“daddy,” you gasp against her mouth, your hands reaching behind to dig your nails into her back.

“don’t you worry,” she rasps, the cool metal of her hand sending shivers down your spine as it cups your ass cheek and spreads you out. “I can tell when a slut needs to be taken care of.”

and taken care of is exactly how you feel once she's helping you climb out of the shower, legs wobbly and thighs deliciously achy.

when you two realize that your love-making took a very long, very accidental forty minutes, sevika watches with a bemused smirk as you stumble through the bathroom, rushing to wash your face and get your clothes back on. panic rushing through you, you slowly pinch the bathroom door open, your head snapping from side to side before hissing for sevika to get out, smacking her bare back frantically as you push her in the direction of her bedroom.

she's halfway across the hall when she pauses, her head whipping to the side. your breath catches in your throat, and face tightened into a premature wince, you turn to see someone in your friend group frozen in place, gawking at the two of you.

the three of you watch each other in stunned silence until you finally jolt into action, spluttering over the sight of sevika standing calmly out in the open, her chest bare. a hot fusion of embarrassment and anxiety whirs through you, and it propels you into actions, hands haphazardly scrambling to continue shoving sevika to her bedroom. your efforts double when your idiot girlfriend chooses to chuckle to herself, purposely placing her weight back on you to make your task even more difficult. 

as you two finally stumble through the threshold into her bedroom, you very pointedly ignore your friend’s laugh and victorious mutter of, “at least I get five dollars now."

[rosemaryhoney27]

Operation: Gaslight the Billionaires”

aka: How Danny Phantom Accidentally Became the Perfect Wayne

The chaos of the Batcave had mostly settled. Danny had been with them for three days, and Vlad Masters was officially on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

It wasn’t the ghost attacks. It wasn’t even the rogue AI that tried to merge with the espresso machine (thanks, Tim). It was the fact that Danny was actively making him look insane.

Bruce entered the kitchen expecting the usual post-patrol disaster: someone bleeding, Jason frying something suspicious, Damian glaring at vegetables like they insulted his honor, and Tim unconscious on the table with a Red Bull IV.

Instead… the kitchen was sparkling.

Alfred was humming. HUMMING. And Danny?

Danny was wearing an apron that said “I cook with spirit (and some ectoplasm)” and was gently stirring a pot of something that smelled incredible. He handed Alfred a tray of prepped vegetables with the air of a beloved sous-chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“Knife is clean and set aside, Mr. Pennyworth. Do you want the counter disinfected again before the meat’s on?”

Alfred smiled. Smiled. “That won’t be necessary, Master Daniel. You’ve done splendidly.”

Bruce stood in the doorway like a man waiting for a piano to fall on him. “…Who is this child?”

Alfred replied calmly, “The most helpful young man we’ve had in this kitchen in years. I daresay Master Richard could learn a thing or two.”

Danny looked up, beamed at Bruce, and said, “Good morning! You want coffee? I just finished a batch of Colombian roast. Tim said you like it strong enough to dissolve crime.”

Tim, from under the counter where he’d been sleeping with a tablet as a pillow: “That’s not even a joke. I’ve seen it eat through one of Damian’s throwing knives.”

Bruce walked over and took the mug Danny handed him. It was the perfect temperature. The exact strength he liked. He took a sip.

His soul briefly ascended.

“…This is better than Alfred’s.”

Alfred gave an approving nod. “Indeed. I showed him once.”

Vlad stormed into the room like a man preparing to perform an exorcism. His hair was frazzled, one of his slippers was missing, and there was what looked suspiciously like slime on his sleeve.

“BRUCE. Tell me honestly, what have you done to him?”

Bruce blinked. “To Danny? Nothing.”

“HE MADE A THREE-COURSE MEAL AND ASKED IF I WANTED A MIDNIGHT TEA.”

“I like being helpful,” Danny said, halo practically visible. “Uncle Vlad gets stressed so easily.”

“I DO NOT—!”

“He also helped Damian organize the armory,” Alfred added serenely.

“Color-coded the blades,” Damian muttered, glaring slightly less than usual. “And sharpened them.”

Jason walked in, paused, sniffed the air. “Is that real garlic bread? Did we finally break the food curse?”

Danny handed him a plate. “You should eat. You looked hangry yesterday.”

Jason stared at him. “I could kill for you.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Nice. Boundaries.”

Vlad was gaping. “You are all being tricked! This is an act! He’s a little gremlin with teeth! He ate my briefcase!”

Danny blinked innocently. “It smelled like almonds. I thought it was marzipan.”

“IT WAS NOT MARZIPAN.”

Cass wandered in, stole a breadstick, and gave Danny a high-five. “Nice work.”

Vlad turned to Bruce, furious and hollow-eyed. “This is not fair. He fought a space god last week, and now he’s making quiche.”

Bruce just shrugged. “Some people contain multitudes.”

“He bit a vampire diplomat in Prague.”

“He was undead and had no permit for summoning circles,” Danny added cheerfully. “Also, he was rude to the hotel staff.”

Stephanie peeked in. “Did I hear someone say quiche?”

“Spinach and mushroom,” Danny called.

“I’m going to implode,” Vlad whispered to the heavens.

Danny wiped his hands and turned to Vlad with a kind, innocent smile. “Uncle Vlad, I know it’s hard to accept, but maybe… I’ve matured?”

Vlad squinted. “You turned your teacher’s car invisible three weeks ago.”

“She parked in the ghost zone exit lane,” Danny said, wounded. “I was helping traffic.”

Bruce sipped his coffee and studied the boy who had seamlessly infiltrated his house like a social trojan horse. “How did you convince him to stay with you again?”

“I blackmailed the adoption agency and offered full scholarship access, six haunted properties, and a personal lab,” Vlad muttered.

“Reasonable,” Tim said. “Sounds like a good pitch.”

Bruce looked at Danny. “Would you like to stay a bit longer?”

Vlad: “No.”

Danny: “Sure!”

Jason: “New little brother unlocked.”

Vlad looked down into his empty tea mug like it had betrayed him. “This is how I die. In a Wayne manor. Smothered by domestic competency and passive-aggressive hospitality.”

Danny patted his arm. “It’s okay, Uncle Vlad. Want me to make you some chamomile?”

Vlad hissed like a vampire at dawn.

[edenspoem]

blehh thinking about making lunches for jackson!ellie before she goes on patrol :P fluff warning. faggot shit. ramble blurb.

being loser!jackson!ellie's obsessed-over crush (i mean, take a gander at her personal journal—duh!) means making the first move. and, without coincidence, you did: she's a terrible omitter, and her friends (being jesse, dina, and if you want to—count joel in; he was the one with the gall in his guts to approach you and regale wide tales of his taken-in daughter and about her little "problem", being her inability to find it within herself to "talk to the girl she likes" that happened to be “a, er, relative neighbur'.” but with all the gossip to account from dina, you figured it be yourself—the relative neighbor in question) are no help on her behalf.

shit, now she cracks her blinds open every morning to the ritual phenomenon (how she would describe it: with disengaged self-perception and a faux-disgruntled attitude, because she pretends she doesn't have it hot for you, therefore assumes a callous notion about whether she should be so eager.) that is you walking through joel's yard, up to her garage—plastic container in hand.

she was simmering when the door opened. “hey, ellie! brought you your favorite.” you were a breath of fresh wind; something out-bound this wood-penned cradle in the mountains. brought something in she couldn't stop smiling about. a real, genuine attitude, perhaps? her head cocks limp to a side, reaching for the container. “thanks, dude.” her head shakes once, and she glances for a moment; scorning herself for calling you "dude" instead of, well, something more endearing?

you cared not one bit.

she did; a retrace visible in her features. a glitch. “so, um—what trail were you assigned?” though, if ellie had slept proper the night before, she should've noticed that you weren't outfitted for patrol at all. “i'm off, thank fuck.” you countered, knocking on the nearest flight of wood. she carefully laughed herself to countless bits. “yeah, maria's got a soft spot for me, so she gives me all the assignments she fuckin' can,” and ended in a louder tune. clears her throat to thwart the arising tension pulling, pounding her heart. “what's my favorite?” she holds the almost-opaque container up and eyes it; even for her picky appetite, she has a multitude of safe dishes she can whip up and take to-go. also—she doesn't expect someone to mind that much attention to a person to remember their preferences so soon, and for someone you're not even—ah, you get it! “buttered noodles.” the plain color made sense, then. “cause i know you have the palette of a five year old.”

ellie's brows prick downwards at the inner-edge. “ouch,” she expresses in synthetic offense, reaching to close the door. “rude.” (but if we're being honest she'd pretend your words struck her like a stake in the heart just to drive you insane and thief a pampering out of you—if you were dating; she imagines all this bullshit instead of sleeping.)

[the-lazy-cat-bakes-souffles]

Yellowjackets is a series so layered with subtext and whose characters contain such multitudes that I’ve learned not to always take my first impression of something as a necessarily accurate one, because the show asks that you look past the surface and appreciate the greater thematic context in which it exists.

In this respect the audience’s perspective often mirrors the characters’. It’s easier to distill complex people and events into archetypes in a straightforward narrative, to elect a hero and a villain, to displace all blame onto an individual rather than confronting the circumstances, systems, and personal responsibility that created or enabled them. The violence is attributed to Shauna alone because unlike the others she embraces it, but what made her into that? She was always the catalyst, not the reaction. She says “maybe you should leave” to Jackie and nobody intervenes; she says “she wants us to” and they consume her body; she says “wait” and they let Javi drown; she says “raise your hand” and they condemn Coach Ben to death. She gives a voice to their shame, resentment, hunger, desperation, selfishness, indulgence, vengeance, because for all intents and purposes, Shauna and ‘It’ are one and the same. And ‘It’ is everyone: it is the darkness within each of the girls, and by extension that within ourselves. Try as one might to create a bogeyman in the Antler Queen, when they lift back the veil they will only ever find themselves staring back into their own eyes.

[itsnotmuchyet]

So if Percy Jackson was going to ascend, what would his domains be? I think we can all agree that Percy would not be a god like Ariadne or Leto is a god. He would definitely be powerful. But the Greek pantheon has most domains already covered. Here's what I think:

Percy should be the god of loyalty, first of all. And, actually, THIS would be the most frightening bit. He'd be a second Eros. Don't see the vision? Imagine Percy deciding on a whim to make Zeus loyal to Hera. I think he should. It'd be the funniest way to get back at Zeus for all those times he voted to kill him, because what's Zeus gonna do?? Complain that he feels really really bad just thinking about cheating on his wife now?????

I don't have a clear picture of what else he'd definitely use this domain for, right off the bat, except I think he'd refuse to make Aphrodite loyal to Hephaestus if asked. Not for any particular liking of Aphrodite, but I think he'd refuse to make someone loyal to a spouse they didn't choose, just on principle.

Secondly, if he's ascending, he definitely should have killed Aklys and taken her domain. That's actually probably how he finds out that 1. Domains aren't fixed and 2. He's burning through his mortality. If Percy is ascending, fighting the goddess of misery should be the thing to instigate the process.

A possible second domain-by-conquest; I think he should get to take Kronos' power over time. As a treat. Maybe he has a confrontation with him in Tartarus, and this is a fight where, unlike Aklys, he knows the stakes and knows what he's doing. And he decides to put Kronos down for good by replacing his role in the pantheon like Apollo once took over from Helios.

Actually, speaking of Apollo. He has given out domains before. I want him to give Protector of Youths to Percy. Why? Well, the pjo Apollo doesn't seem to do too much with it (maybe. Haven't read the Trials. Lmk if I'm wrong). And I think it is PERFECT for Percy. I've seen some people say he should be the god of demigods (currently Hercules' role, and he's definitely not doing much with it), but i disagree. Percy has always cared for mortals, and I don't think ascension would stop that. He should protect young people regardless of their heritage. I think that matches his canon behavior better.

He should get to be god of riptides. Because it's thematic and it pleases me. Percy should get to keep a connection to the sea.

God of filial devotion might also be appropriate. That might already be covered by a different god though, I'm not sure.

Lastly. This might be controversial. Percy should be the god of divorce.

I have reasons. In no particular order:

I like divine duality, ie, Apollo is god of healing&plagues. Percy can be god of loyalty&divorce. (This is not a perpollo post necessarily, apollo just happens to be a useful example of what I'm going for here. Percy contains multitudes.)

He helped his mom get a divorce when he was younger. No - no, really, stay with me here. In many cultures for much of history the only way out of a marriage, particularly for women, was to kill your spouse. This is the original divorce. It's also not an option for gods. The Greek pantheon in pjo has clearly changed somewhat with time, but not as much as i think they should. I think Percy should be a sea change, and one of the ways to do that is provide a way for all those old unhappy bonds to either be dissolved or renewed. A catalyst to either commit to your marriage - hello god of loyalty - or leave it and try again. If we're breaking gods out of the old patterns, then let's do that. Percy can introduce the gods to the modern concept of divorce, and leave the past in the past.

It's either a genius idea or I'm completely deranged. Probably the second one, but there you have it.

I think if you want the gods to be kinder, you have to modernize them in some ways, and also address some of their own perennial unhappiness. Hera would certainly be a nicer goddess, for example, if she wasn't trapped in a bad situation. I don't say nice. I don't know that any god is nice. But nicer.

I guess mostly I want percy to ascend because it would be really funny if the gods were discussing whether to smite or reward him and he interrupts to be like, "okay, but you have to choose quickly, one of those isn't going to be an option for much longer" and that's how they find out that he's ascending. I think he'd have gone through all the stages of grief by that point, he's just. Over it. <- another reason I want percy to be a god is because he doesn't want to be. I think often those who seek power are those who least ought to wield it. Percy, who once chose not to overpower a nymph who was terrified he'd use her spring to clean horse stables, who inspires loyalty so quickly he made Praetor in a week, is extremely well suited to power.