#she’s always the voice of reason let percy be that for her (more often) we know she’s as impulsive as him PLS RICK PLESE

[modawg]

i wish annabeth held more and was able to express more seething rage bc i feel like it would truly elevate her character and i know she has the capacity for it

like i just want her to break some shit and i want her to be fiercely protective and i want her to physically harm people

the only moment i can really think of her doing that is the scene where she punches percy’s bully but when i went back to read that i realised how much it’s really not looked into by rick

for some reason i had it in my head that it was a big moment where annabeth looked like this actual crazy badass who beat tf outta this kid for bullying percy and tho she does look like a badass bro hit him once told him to fuck off and dipped i wanted her to like BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM

annabeth had followed percy all day watched every instance where percy was bullied and just punched him once and walked away ?? nah my annabeth chase would’ve had percy pulling her off him she does not care that he’s mortal she will actually kill him

where’s the feral child on the streets ?? where did she go i want her back

feral abandoned and raised by wolves jason grace ?? more like feral run away and raised by teens annabeth chase

i want her to punch more people please and probably scream a little

[brooooswriting]

HI HI HI!!

A part 5 to situations would make me the happiest human bean !! Love this story

Situations 5

situations 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7

I’m happy to make you the happiest human bean:)

Let’s imagine that Olivia Rodrigo brought out her Album ‘Sour’ now

Two days later

“Jenna?” The voice over the phone called out, “hey Olivia, how are you? What can I do for you?” Jenna asked as she made herself a coffee before work. “Well, as you might know, my new album sour is coming out in three days and today I’ve decided that I will throw a party for it in two days. Wanna come?” She explained as she looked at some decoration on her laptop, “oh wow, I’d love to come. I can’t wait to hear your new album, I love your music” after a bit more of conversation they started talking about whose coming to the party. “and last but now least, we have Y/n and her plus on” the actress was shocked and took a minute to answer, “d-do you know who she’s - you know- bringing?” Her voice was quiet and unsteady as she tried to calm herself, “no, I don’t. Sorry”

Two days later

You were ready for Olivia’s party and your plus one, Kara, was too. Kara was Mia’s little sister, she was 16 years old and loved Olivia and her music, so you thought it would be a nice gesture to bring her along. The girl was like a little sister to you, even if she looked just as old as you. But you would always remember her as the 4 years old that you met 12 years ago that you showed how to ride a bike.

“Are you nervous?” You asked the girl when you arrived at the location, the music was heard from the outside just like the peoples taking. “I’d say I’m the perfect mix of nervous, excited and happy” she answered as you laid your arm over the slightly smaller girl and chuckled, “well, just don’t embarrass me alright?” Both of you laughed as you walked inside.

You’ve know Olivia before she got really famous and somehow your friendship stayed. You didn’t talk that often but for some reason you were still going strong and you loved it, she was a great person that deserves the best only.

The first thing you did was getting something to drink. You and Kara stood at the bar when a certain someone caught your eye, Jenna. After the kiss four days ago, where she stormed off, you haven’t seen her or talked to her. It was complete radio silence which really broke you. Especially after seeing Percy appear next to her, his arms wrapping around her as she talked to Conan. “You alright?” The girl next to you asked causing you to nod, not that it convinced her but she still decided to let it go for now. “Come on, let’s find Olivia” you took her hand and pulled her along through the crowds until you found the singer you were looking for. “Liv” you called out as she ran into your arms, “y/n/n” she hugged you tight while you slightly picked her up around her waist.

“Liv, this is Kara” you introduced your plus one with a happy smile on your face from watching the younger girl nearly die from happiness. “She’s cute” she whispered to you causing you to cough, “she’s 16” you mumbled, her eyes suddenly widening. “Kara is Mia’s little sister, she’s a big fan of you so I decided to bring her along” you explained.

After a couple of minutes you’ve decided to leave them alone for a bit while you went and talked to other people, at least until you heard Percy tell people that him and Jenna were a thing for the 6th time. Deciding that you need some fresh air you exited the building, shooting Kara a quick text to stay close to Olivia while you took a minute. A certain brunette following you.

“I really didn’t think blondes were your type, but I also didn’t think you were the cheater type so I guess I was wrong about a lot” you’d recognize that voice everywhere and the last four days you would have done everything to hear it again. “What?” You asked as you turned around to face her. “Oh come on, you either had feelings for her before or you guys even already had something before. There’s no way that you fall in love so quickly” she explained while accusingly pointing her finger around as you chuckled sarcastically.

“Okay, hold up. First of all, you don’t get to judge me for bringing someone when the last four days I’ve been calling you nonstop and send you around 200 messages per day! It’s unfair you know, that shit broke me. I overstepped a boundary and I’m sorry about it, but you could have just told me instead of ghosting me. I didn’t know you had someone, you never told me and don’t even try to say that you didn’t know that I was making moves! Damn it, I would have backed up if I knew you had someone! But no, I have to find out from Percy running around and telling people!” You were pacing around as the anger inside of you built up, you were mad at her, mad at Percy, mad at yourself and mad at the world.

“What is he saying?” She asked as she watched you pace. “Damn it Jenna, he’s telling people about your relationship. Something you should have done weeks ago! You know who I brought? Mia’s little sister, she’s 16 and obsessed with Olivia. So no, I don’t likes blondes and no I’m not the cheater type” your chest was heaving as you looked at the ground and tried to calm yourself. “Y/n, Percy and I aren’t a thing” she told you as she stepped closer but you only shook your head, “maybe you should tell him that first”. With that you walked back inside to Kara and Olivia.

“You alright?” The singer asked as you stood next to her, “yeah, just needed a moment” you answered as you watched Kara and Olivia interact. “You’re y/n, right?” A manly voice next to you said causing you to turn, only to find Percy next to you. “Yeah, I am” your voice wasn’t friendly or nice, it was cold and gave clear indication that you didn’t want to talk to him. “Look, you should keep away from Jenna. She made a mistake when she kissed you, she regrets it deeply. Being in love with a girl as a girl is disgusting and the media won’t like it, so I turned her and I want you to keep away from her” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you tried to calm yourself, you really did but it was too much for you. Without another word you pulled your arm back before your fist collided with his face causing him to stumble back. “One, she can decide on her own who she wants to talk to and who she doesn’t wanna talk to. Two, just because there are girls who get more girls than you do that doesn’t mean that they’re disgusting! So if I ever hear you talk about one of us like that again, it will end worse.” Due to the rage inside of you you didn’t notice the crowd forming around you. But in that moment you couldn’t care less, the urge to throw yourself at him was overwhelming.

“Let’s just go, it’s not worth it” Kara pulled on your arm as she talked. You let yourself be dragged away from the crowd, your eyes catching Jenna’s as you did. “I’ll go home. You can drive the truck home later” you spoke out after you calmed down, you felt bad for ruining the girls party. “It’s fine, let’s just go home” she was too nice for her own good, but you could also really use the alone time. “I mean it, it’s okay. Stay a bit, make sure to stay close to Olivia okay? Then you can drive home to mine and we’ll see from then on, enjoy your time here” you laid your hands on her shoulders as you talked. “Okay, thank you” she hugged you tightly before going back inside.

You quickly texted Olivia before slowly making your way home. You were so caught up in your own thoughts and music that you didn’t notice anything happening around you. The events still confused and hurt you, what if she said the same thing to him and the reason she didn’t text back was because she was disgusted by you, or maybe she just wanted to try herself out.

You didn’t come very far, around 1/4 of the way before a hand suddenly grasped your wrist causing you to spin around. “Are you crazy?” You scolded, “it’s dark outside and this isn’t quite the best part of town. Do you know how dangerous it is to walk around alone? Do you know what could have happened to you?!” Jenna’s heart broke as she heard you speak, even after the whole amount of pain she caused you, you still cared for her. It was sad really and it made her sad, you didn’t deserve all that pain.

“I-I couldn’t just let you go like that. Percy didn’t have the right to say what he said. Especially because he was so damn wrong about what he said, I don’t regret kissing you one bit, it was the best decision I’ve made in a loooong while, but I was scared that I overstepped a boundary and I didn’t wanna be hurt so I isolated myself. And the only reason I brought stupid Percy to this stupid party is because I’ve heard that you were going to bring a plus one and I didn’t wanna look stupid but now I do anyway and the only thing I’ve learned is that I’m a really big idiot” she was breathing heavily when she was finally done talking, there were some tears running down her face and her fingers while nervously clawing at the fabric of her cloths. The silence that build between you two scared the girl more than anything had ever done.

“If I see Percy being out of line one more time I won’t promise anything” you said before grabbing the smaller girls waist to pull her close to you until there wasn’t any space between you. She carefully laid her arms on top of your shoulders, one hand on your jaw carefully stroking it with her thumb while your hands gripped her waist. She closed the space between your lips. The kiss got deeper and deeper as she pushed herself closer to you while your hands gripped her waist tightly as if you were scared that she’d disappear again when you let go. “Don’t ever go radio silent on me again ok?” You whispered against her lips before kissing her again. “Never, now let’s go somewhere where we aren’t being watched” you let go of her waist as you pulled out one of your AirPods and gave it to her. “Let’s go then” you told her as you started walking.

Her arm constantly kept brushing yours causing you to feel how cold she was. So you pulled of your jacket and laid it on her shoulder before she suddenly wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled your arm around her shoulder. You chuckled before pulling her closer and making your way to your apartment.

When you arrived you quickly grabbed some sweatpants and hoodies for the both of you to change into before settling down on the couch to watch some Netflix. “You alright darling?” You asked as you noticed Jenna stare into the air, she suddenly started grinning. “I missed you calling me names like darling” she told you which caused you to smile. Cuddling close, you started the TV.

It wasn’t what you expected to happen tonight but it was still great, at least until now

———————————————————————————

So this really sucks. I had a stressful couple of weeks but I at least wanted to post something :/

@oh-thats-cute @screechcat

[carrie-tate]

For the ask game! Can I have the questions with Jason and Piper? :33 plsss

bean you are my hero x'> Piper and Jason are a great choice~

1. What spot makes them BEG for mercy?

I definitely have a certain headcanon that Piper is not that ticklish, and it takes a lot of effort to get her to beg for mercy (and the fact that it is her knees knows literally two people, Jason and Leo) Speaking of Jason... I bet on his hips. Something tells me that if you squeeze them, Jason will just fall on the floor, lol

2. Are wake up tickles a thing?

It should be said here that I am sure that Jason is an early bird in terms of getting up in the morning. Well, you know, Roman upbringing? When Piper, if possible, can afford to sleep all day (and never look overly sleepy, rather, aphroditely beautifully sleepy) But you know what? Here, the opposite is happening. Piper is the one that drags Jason back to lie down for another five minutes because "we don't have saving the world on the list today, the rest can wait a couple of minutes." Tickle just a way to convince Jason "I get up at 5 am without an alarm" Grace faster

3. Do they react differently to different people tickling them?

It works for both of them so that if it's someone important to them (Friend, family or partner) they will react. Unlike the touch of a stranger. (And I'm just sure that Pipers tickles works on Jason much better than anyone else. And it doesn't even need a magical voice or other abilities)

4. Whats they’re laugh like?

It seems obvious to me what I'm going to say about Jason. His laugh is literally "thunder out of a clear sky", lol (maybe it's only Russian idiom, don't mind it). But what do I mean. Jason, with his army-severe face and appearance, has a completely unexpected laugh. Loud and not at all as serious as the guy seems from the outside. Although he is a little embarrassed by this and often tries to be more quiet (that's right, Piper makes sure to comment on this, embarrassing her boyfriend even more). Piper is in a similar situation. She has a rather wild, snorting laugh. And this laughter still seems beautiful to everyone.

5. Are they embarrassed that they’re ticklish

Of the two of them, for some reason, it seems to me that Piper is more embarrassed by this fact of her ticklish than Jason. Like, I think Piper has that moment in her character and a subtle desire to appear "too cool to be ticklish". When Jason is a case where he looks (at first glance) like "too cool to be ticklish" and in doing so he breaks the stereotype by taking it easy. Although no one of them will can acknowledge this fact out loud

6. Do they seek revenge after being tickled?

Piper is always looking for revenge. And, it seems to me that revenge is always instant, lol As for Jason, I think he thinks he's above revenge (towards his girlfriend. BUT IF IT WAS AT A DISPUT LIKE OF TWO BROS WITH PERCY… ahem, let's continue xD)

7. Do they squirm a lot?

Here they are also opposites. Jason is the type who would rather... curl up. But Piper yes, she will squirm for her life

8. Does verbal teasing make it worse?

It doesn't work for Piper. That's what she thought, because Jason had never tried it. But one day he will try and it will work. Admittedly though, Piper doesn't even need to use some Charmspeak for this to work on Jason.

[cabinofimagines]

Hi! I'm so, so sorry if I (or someone else) requested this already, but can I get some headcanons about the 7+ Nico, Reyna, & Will reacting to silly, affectionate nicknames from their S/O? Thank you so much!!

It’s my birthday so I decided to write all the characters loving me -Danny

Percy

Homeboy MELTS

He pretends to hate it in public but he will pout if you don’t do it at least twice a day

He’s tried to come up with some silly names for you but he’s not that talented 

The first time you called him something cutesy and sweet he stood there unable to erase that stupid grin off his face for the rest of the day

Annabeth

She can survive Percy’s puppy eyes and your cutesy pouts but if you call her one of those pretty nicknames in just the right tone she is a goner

You usually use them when you’re alone so it feels really special and romantic

The first time you used one she tried to act like it was no big deal but she was a stammering and blushing mess

we love our flustered Annie

She’s gotten used to them, though

Sometimes it’s her using those silly nicknames to get your attention and it’s absolutely damaging your heart bc it’s too CUTE

Someone pls bring Annabeth to me I wanna kiss her so bad

Jason

He blushed big time when you smiled up at him and called him ‘pretty boy’

He can’t take them, he’s not strong enough

Jason falls to his knees in front of you it’s his only weakness

No thoughts, just your pretty voice on repeat calling him adorable nicknames

He only uses nicknames with you when he’s really focused on some task and his mind is somewhere else 

bc on the daily for some reason he’s just too shy to use them casually???

so it’s always like ‘Can you hand me that pen, love?’ and you get all giddy and he doesn’t even notice

Then he realizes what he did and he smiles at you all cutesy bc well, he’s not going to apologize for being affectionate towards you, and you’re certainly not complaining

He also calls you very nice things while you’re making out but that’s private

Piper

She loves to hear them coming from your pretty mouth 

From any other person she thinks they sound condescending

Especially if they come from older men, ew

but if you call her ‘sweetie’ she’s like  🥺 ‘yees?’

She’s the real expert though, no one can talk to you the way she does

And it’s not bc of the charmspeak

She’s a natural flirt, so of course she knows exactly how to make you all soft and flustered

PIPER IS HIGH QUALITY IN EVERY WAY

Leo

You called him a cutesy stupid nickname ONCE and he never let it go

It started as a joke but bro I don’t think it’s a joke anymore

The more ridiculous they are the more he loves them

He’s an expert at coming up with the most embarrassing names he makes a point of using iN PUBLIC

“Shmutsy-bubbles! Where have you been?” :D

You’re really close to murder

But not really bc you love him and his sense of humor otherwise you wouldn’t be dating him

Once he made you laugh so hard you choked on your food really thought you were about to die 

since then he’s careful not to call you names while you’re eating

Anyway you guys are ridiculous and I want what you have you’re so cute wtf

Hazel

She’s the one who used a cute nickname first

It happened without any of you noticing so it’s just really casual 

Use them often but not all the time

You try to use them the most when she’s upset about something

Makes her really happy and changes her mood instantly

I’ve always thought that dating Hazel feels a lot like puppy love so you know, it feels safe and warm

So the loving nicknames are bound to be the same

Lots of hugs and kisses come after the sweet names 

Frank

A huge fan of cute names and they come naturally to him bc he’s the sweetest man alive

Nothing ever sounds chessy coming from this man’s mouth and that’s the hill I will die on

He was kinda awkward when youo guys started dating but he’s super comfortable now and when he’s with he feels completely whole and at peace

The first time you called him a loving nickname he knew he was home

You called him ‘my lovely’ and he was ready to propose

Kinda like puppy love, but it’s actually more like old married couple vibes i hope it makes sense lmao

Will

He didn’t make a big deal but his eyes shone a little brighter that day

You using a cute nickname was a green light for him so now he can’t stop using them on you

*kiss on the cheek* Hi [cute name]! *warmest hug ever*

Whenever you want him to pay attention to you those names work like a charm

Also when he’s stressed and you’re trying to convince him to take a moment 

Words of encouragement always come hand in hand with these

Reyna

At first she didn’t know how to feel

It was good, but also scary, and a little overwhelming

She’s only been this close to like three people and she doesn’t want to get too excited

But then a month passes by, then three, then a year

and you’re still there, calling her ‘love’ and ‘darling’ and ‘my dear’

She feels like she’s dreaming most of the time but she doesn’t want to admit it

You know she’s happy and that she likes it when you call her that tho

Because she always pulls you in and kisses you in a way that makes you shiver

Much like Jason, the first time she called you something other than your name she was focusing on her work, so entranced that the word simply slipped out of her

You spent the rest of that day feeling like you were floating on a cloud

She got really anxious afterwards bc you left without saying anything and she thought she had crossed a line

But then that night you kissed her and your face was GLOWING and she knew it was okay

Reyna if you’re out there pls accept my hand in marriage

Nico

Nico.exe stopped working

He blushed madly, really not a flattering thing, he thought

You on the other hand, said he’d looked really handsome

He doesn’t uses nicknames often bc he likes your name better

It’s your name, and it means something to him 

Far more than any sickly sweet nickname

You love his name too, that’s why you only call him “Nico” when you want to tell him how much you love him

Or you want to have a serious conversation

He gets scared when you start your sentences with “Nico, come here” bc he never knows whether it’ll be a good talk or a bad talk

So it kinda backfired but it’s alright... most of the time

On the daily tho the nicknames are what you use more

It’s quite backwards compared to how other people think but then again this is Nico Di Angelo and you, of course you’re not like other people

He called you ‘amore’ once, just to tease you

Your face turned red and you couldn’t look at him in the eye for a whole hour 

He uses it A LOT now

Taglist.

@smileitsisa  @goldglitteryfoxtrot @beneaththeiceandsnow  @lovinghufflepuffgirl @diaphragmjellyfish 

[takaraphoenix]

Ship game!! What about Nico and Will?? It’s pretty popular, but I don’t think I’ve seen you write much of it…

That's an interesting one in that I have vocalized my reasons for disliking it way back when it first became popular but instead of just linking that, it has been years so I think it's time for an updated version.

Firstly: This post is gonna be properly tagged and not crosstagged so if any shipper comes across it and feels the need to bitch about it, just don't; your lack of curating your own tumblr experience is not my problem! ;D

Now, there are three key factors that play into my dislike of this ship: How it was written, what it represents, how the fandom around it acts.

1. It’s rushed and uncomfortable

In BoO, it was incredibly rushed. They had literally five sentences of interactions before they walked into the literal sunset together. Five. It was just entirely born from Riordan's Noah's Ark Complex, where he just can't let people be single. The series was ending and he needed Nico to have an endgame so he rushed into some random romance with zero build-up.

The way their interactions went down was also severely uncomfortable for me. Will was acting so offended by Nico not wanting to go to camp and be friends in an entitled way that he had no right to be, he downright guilt-tripped Nico about how he had wanted to be friends. Nico has been just so severely traumatized at such a young age and his coping mechanism, as unhealthy as it was, was to run away and hide. Will acted like Nico not wanting to form attachments to people who could potentially leave him again was somehow just an Edgy Emo Decision and not a direct reaction to his trauma. His entire approach to Nico was basically all these hippie posts of "Don't have depression!! Just go out into the sun and stop being depressed!", which is already a bad take with non-medical people but he's supposed to be a doctor (and let's not get into the shadiness of him technically being Nico's doctor).

There is also an inherent "I can fix him" angle to this ship and to me, only few ship dynamics are more uncomfortable than that. If you want to fundamentally change a person's behavior and personality, you... don't actually want to be with this person.

Now, here's where my points overlap, because the following parts of their writing that bothers me also stand for what this ship fundamentally represents.

2. Solangelo is a queer ship written by and for straights

I'm a queer woman and as a queer woman, I want queer wish-fulfillment, not what straights want out of queerness. I'm kind of tired of that, I've been sitting through it for enough decades now. That's, of course, not to say that no straight writer can give proper queer representation, but far too often do straight writers - even the most well-meaning ones - project straight desires of queerness into their queer representation.

Let me explain that closer through this ship.

Nico's been in love with Percy for years and I'm going to do my best to not hijack this post with some Percico agenda; that's not what this his about, this isn't some "my ship is better than your ship" ship-war nonsense. It's simply a canonical fact that Nico has had romantic feelings for another character for years.

A character who, in this medium, is heterosexual. And if you're queer, you've been there. In love with your straight best friend. It's a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason.

We have also all been well-meaningly rejected by said straight friend.

And here's the straight desires for you: The queer person who was in love with a straight person just immediately stops having those feelings and will then as quickly as possible fall in love with the next queer person they meet to be happy and no longer uncomfortably in love with a straight person, because that thought makes the straights uncomfortable.

Queer wish-fulfillment would be for Percy to return those feelings, for the queer character to get his first love, to not be rejected. That thing queer teens always dreamed about for themselves.

Aside from the wish-fulfillment angle, the pacing is another problem. Let me repeat, Nico was in love for years. But a five sentence conversation with Will once causes a crush on Will and we see him physically turn away from Percy and toward Will just immediately to rebound and actually fall out of love with Percy and in love with Will. Anyone who's ever been unlucky in love will attest to just how unrealistic and ridiculous the pacing here is.

It's also straight queerness in another respect; Nico has been the first ever queer character we meet in that world. He loves a straight guy - and to get over that, we introduce the second queer character. Because heaven forbid there are multiple queers to pick from. No, in straight-written queer romances, there is always that one main queer and then they introduce a second one and the two just immediately hit it off and develop a romance like all a queer person needs to form attraction to someone is the confirmation that the other person shares your sexuality.

Also the notable gay guy on gay guy ship here, whereas the more queer-wish-fulfillment option would have also included more nuance to the queer experience, because Percy doesn't have to be heterosexual just because he has only been with girls so far. It's a very old-fashioned - think 90s and early 2000s - kind of straight-written queerness that there are only exactly two homosexuals and that those two homosexuals then pair up.

And, listen, I'm not immune to these outdated straight-written queers entirely, I have many such ships that I grew up with that I am still fond of because they were groundbreaking at that time and they weren't outdated yet back when they happened in said 90s and early 2000s. I am however a grown woman now and just like I have grown, so has queer rep so I am not as easily baited into falling onto my knees in gratitude for canon rep. You have to go with the times. And this ship, by all that is given to us, is just entirely outdated straight-written rep.

Which, I mention earlier that even straight-written rep can be good. If the author tries. Riordan doesn't really try though; he does the bare minimum when he writes any of his rep - and there have been many, many more qualified voices being very vocal about his depiction of people of color and, as a woman, I've been vocal about his depiction of women. I don't want to derail this post with all of that, but I do think that it bears mentioning that Riordan doing rep but only doing a bare minimum and not putting in the necessary work to deepen the representation he wants to give is a repeating pattern that has been pointed out many times by now.

(I’d also like to point out that no, it is not just the ship and not just the listed instances that make it straight-written rep for straights. It’s Nico’s entire queer arc, starting with his forced coming out. A severely traumatizing event that is completely brushed over because the straight author doesn’t understand the impact this has on queer people. Not to mention the framework; Nico’s coming out isn’t Nico’s story, it happens in Jason’s POV, it is given to us through the POV of the straight bystander who gets to be Best Ally by assuring Nico that being gay is okay. This kind of coming out is not a queer wish-fulfillment, it’s a straight wish-fulfillment of getting to be the straight savior, the ally to show the gay the light of acceptance. And, additional to the ridiculous pacing of how fast Nico gets over his love for Percy, Nico also gets over years of internalized homophobia just because of, I don’t know, Jason’s few encouraging words and the fact that Will paid attention to him? For a gay kid who was in the closet all his life, the nonchalant way in which he publicly confessed his crush to Percy at the end made absolutely no sense and was written as basically a joke, finished off with Nico literally high-fiving Percy’s girlfriend despite those two never having seen eye to eye before but this is straight wish-fulfillment so all straights are Super Allies, because that’s the way straights want to see themselves, even though Annabeth has shown before just how jealous she can be and she most definitely wouldn’t go around high-fiving people who confess to her boyfriend. Nothing about Nico’s queer arc in HoO felt natural or queer or satisfying.)

Sure, Solangelo on a surface level is big because it's a canon queer couple in a YA book-series and kudos for that and yay for the kids who get to grow up seeing queers in YA books, but I actually do think that kids growing up with books written in the 2010s shouldn't grow up with 1990s levels of representation, because the 2010s overall are actually at a far more nuanced and better level of representation when it comes to queerness. And I do reserve the right to quit on too straight-written and too outdated queer rep in a landscape where I can get more satisfying representation elsewhere; we don’t live in times anymore where you necessarily have to love every bit of rep because it’s the only one you get.

Now that we've gone through my first two gripes, let's wrap this up with the final point, because it also directly ties into this.

3. The new wave of antis hiding behind this ship

A huge part of the fandom is so busy kissing Riordan's ass solely for giving them queer rep at all they think that both the author and the ship are beyond flawless and that kind of attitude is not good. Just because an author includes rep doesn't make either perfect. Absolutely no one is beyond critique - especially not when said critique comes from the very people the author is representing. And even beyond any "valid" critique on the ship, quite frankly, someone should also be allowed to just not like it, without any reasons given at all.

But there is a certain... protective obsessiveness about this ship that doesn't allow a not liking. Very similar to how PJO bore this mindset around Perc/abeth already. It's okay to have OTPs, even OTPs that you have a blindspot for and just don't want to see any flaws in. It is however not okay to then go around attacking people who don't like the thing and mind their own business.

Solangelo's bred a new generation of antis in this fandom. And, particularly with the fact that this post too receives an "anti" tag, I feel like there needs to be a clarification (because tumblr likes to forget what actually makes an anti). Not liking something doesn't make you an anti, venting in properly tagged posts doesn't either; it's the people who harass others, who seek out the content they dislike to then complain that it even exists and who actively try to make others stop creating for it - those are antis.

And with Solangelo's popularity, there was a high rise in Percico antis, who sought it out, were unnecessarily nasty about it, harrassed creators and tried to enforce some kind of "Solangelo supremacy" that won't allow other ships for the characters.

I've been in fandom long enough to be perfectly aware that not all Solangelo shippers count into this category and that there are completely normal and nice Solangelo shippers, but this is a Venn diagram where the overlap between Solangelo shippers and antis is too large to not widely associate the nasty people with the ship itself. (I've been there myself, shipping the very ship behind which a fandom's antis all hid. The second-hand embarrassment of having these people give the ship a bad name is horrendous and I do feel bad for all the normal Solangelo shippers.)

The more often I encountered these people, who made Percico bad (sometimes in wildly ridiculous manners that bent and deliberately misinterpreted canon) and who in the same breath praised Solangelo high, the more tired I grew of that ship. It's a simple game of association, really. You see that linked to the gross and nasty behavior and you start associating the ship itself with that gross and nasty behavior - and with all the things I said before that already weighed into my dislike of the ship, this just was the final tipping point, really.

And that's it. That sums up why I dislike Solangelo. It was hastily rushed, uncomfortable in its execution, it is outdated rep that very much feels as straight-written as it factually is and it does not feel aimed at me as a queer person but rather at the straight audience and it has gathered a cult following of quite uncomfortable people who on their own would be reason enough to avoid it so you can avoid them.

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

[hornime]

saeko, an angel

you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

warnings: gay lol

w/c: 2k

a/n: i’m so in love with her. also this is sfw which goes to show how much i am in love with her.

you crack your eyes open, a bright white light blinding you and forcing you to close them again, the burn settling into your pupils. you wait a minute, letting the red behind your closed eyelids warm to a fiery orange, before trying again, squinting as you let your eyes slowly adjust to the morning sun. and then you see her, through the blurry haze of dawn.

an angel.

you silently blink early tears away, too afraid of moving or making a noise and scaring the divine being away. as bubbles of light start sharpening into crisp clarity, you realize where you are: a hotel bed, with clean white curtains and walls framing a heavenly scene. and you realize what you’re seeing: saeko. so yeah, close enough, you think. an angel.

you remain immobile: your hands are tucked under the pillow and quickly going numb at the uncomfortable position, and the kink in your neck is demanding more and more of your attention as your nerves realize that you’re awake, naturally refusing to give you a mere minute of painlessness. but the aches in your joints and throbbing behind your eyes become secondary as you become transfixed on her, her. her, silently sitting on the edge of the bed and playing with the linen beneath her with the tips of her fingers, only half of her face towards you. she hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet, a serene smile gracing her face as she remembers a joke, something between her and herself. saeko, an angel.

it’s funny, you think, how mom always told me that mornings were times of clarity, times when things make sense. you remember a story she’d tell you when you were little.

“there’s something about the time when half the world is sleeping and the other half wishes they were sleeping,” she used to say, “that makes things make sense. everyone’s too groggy to start thinking their thoughts for the day. so the universe has all of these thought bubbles in the air, floating around, waiting for someone to just pluck it out of the air.”

“like a ballon?” you’d ask.

“yes,” she’d chuckle. “like a balloon. and you can just pluck it out of the air! sometimes, when the universe needs you to realize something, all those thought balloons will come rushing towards you, and they’ll form a big,” she’d spread her arms for emphasis, “big, big cloud of thoughts. and suddenly, everything would make sense. and you’d get the courage to do something that you’ve been wanting to for a while.”

you used to laugh at that story, imagining someone with a giant thought bubble sneaking out of their ears, carrying them up, up into the air. what could someone even be thinking about, you’d wonder, that would make their bubble so big? you couldn’t fathom contemplating something so large and important that you’d worry it could whisk you away into the atmosphere.

but now, laying here in silence, mom’s words were resurfacing to the flesh of your chest, warming it with something that had been burning there for a while, burning with what the universe had been wanting you to realize for quite some time now. 

you were just scratching the surface of what that was threatened to make you weightless, the strings of balloons tugging restlessly at your arms and legs, wishing you’d just let them fly already. wishing you’d just let yourself fly.

you don’t even realize your eyes are closing until you glance back up again, at the angel perched next to you, wingless yet still able to show you the wonders of the sky. saeko, an angel.

you study her for who-knows-how-long, noting the sheer beauty before you, so delicate yet strong you worry it’ll break itself or break you from the weight of its magnificence. she doesn’t even know, you register, she doesn’t even know that each moment around her is a blessing.

and you know for a fact that each moment is a blessing, because angels are blessings, and she’s an angel. somewhere in the murky depths of moral ambiguity, between drops of bitter vodka from a teenage birthday party and stolen quarters from the mall fountain, there is a glow of truth and irrefutable certitude: that she is an angel. saeko, an angel. 

and you, blessed.

wisps of blonde hair curl from her forehead to her jaw, whispering words in gold that you can only partially translate into a hymn of some kind, its rhythm vibrating along the headboard of the bed and prodding at your ears. you wish to brush them behind her ears, so cliche, she’d say, just so you can see more of that heavenly face. god, you groan internally, why’d you make her so fucking perfect? how’s that fair to any of us mortals? how’s that fair to me?

you trail your eyes down the bridge of her nose, slanted perfectly. you’ve never really thought about what the perfect nose bridge would be, but you know without a doubt that she has it. of course she does. saeko’s perfect. saeko, an angel.

and before you can help yourself, you’re tracing the curve of her lips, plump and pink and oh-so-kissable. you’d drown in those lips if you tried: visions of how they stretch into cheeky grins and purse into pouts could flood your mind if you let them. and you don’t let them, at least not as often anymore, especially since her lips can be really distracting, and last time you thought about them you were driving, and saeko shrieked in laughter when you called her telling her the reason there’s a new dent on the side of the car. 

“we can’t both be bad drivers!” she’d giggled. “that’s feeding into the gay stereotype!”

“it’s not my fault,” you’d grumbled, “that i can only concentrate on one thing when i’m behind the wheel.”

“that ‘thing’ should be the road! not my lips!”

“yeah, i know! but ‘i kissed a girl’ was on the radio and then i thought about kissing a girl and that girl was you and then one thing led to another and...”

the corners of your lips turn up at the memory. although you had been pretty pissed about having to pay for a repair, saeko proceeded to try and fix the dent herself with a plunger since she has a vendetta against auto shops because “they’ll take advantage of pretty things like you” and “motorcycles aren’t that different from cars anyway, so its fine.” and she was sure to give you some quality time with the lips that you’d been so distracted by, so even the fact that your insurance company had upped your rates hadn’t bothered you too much.

the strings of your thought balloons dangle in the air, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the window. you wonder how saeko hasn’t seen them yet. she must really be lost in thought.

your gaze remains steady on her face, her glory, her beauty. i’m lucky, you decide. so so lucky. you can feel your limbs be lifted slowly into the air. the balloons are getting restless.

you’re almost taken aback when you feel something wet roll down your cheek. are you... crying? seriously? you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get a hold of your emotions. when’s even the last time i felt this in lo—

“hey.” saeko’s soft voice makes you crack open your eyelids as she runs a hand along your hair. “are you okay? you’re crying.”

you smoosh your face further into the pillow. “i don’t know,” you mumble through the comforter.

she repositions herself on the bed so that she’s sitting criss-cross towards you, leaning forward to bring her face closer to yours. “are you on your period?”

“no,” you respond immediately. you nuzzle further into the sheets, but poke your head out again. “wait, i’m not sure. what day is it?”

“the 21st.”

“oh,” you roll over onto your back, stretching your arms out hoping that she’ll hug you. “then maybe.”

saeko obliges to your silent request, crawling her way over and straddling the blanket over your legs before resting the top half of her body on yours. “i knew it,” she whispers into your neck.

you don’t dare look her in the eyes. you know that mortals will disintegrate if they look directly at an angel. you read that in a percy jackson book or something.

but the thought balloons are yanking at your arms, forcing your fingers to run down her spine and through her hair. i must be insane, you think. i’m insane to think that i’ll ever be enough for her. 

she’s an angel, you remind yourself to no avail. wingless, but can still fly. and you are nothing but a human, rooted to the ground by gravity and inevitable death. you’d be a fool to think that you’d ever be enough; after all, what bird would choose to stay on the ground when it can explore a limitless sky?

but you are a fool. you know that now, even if you were in denial before. you’ll let your delicate and fragile thought bubbles carry you into the air and bask in the temporary feelings of freedom before they pop and you crash and burn through the atmosphere. you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

you most certainly are a fool, because you let your thought bubbles wrap their strings around you like a harness, pull themselves taut, and prepare yourself to jump out into the morning heavens, putting your trust into the wind to carry you alongside her. your toes are dangling across the edge, the open beyond becoming more and more appealing than the safety of the hotel room. you know that there is no do-over once you take the leap, once you try to fly. you’ll either get to fly beside her or you’ll fall to the ground and face an untimely end. but fuck if you aren’t daring, yearning, stupid enough to jump. 

you swallow. there really is no going back from this.

“saeko?” you let the words carry through the stagnant air of the room, filled with the lemony scent of an air freshener and saeko’s shampoo.

“hm?”

“i—” the wind whips widely at your back and at your balloons, sending them into all directions as they maintain their hold on you. it’s compelling you to fall, to throw caution into it and hold tightly to your faith and let go of your tether. you must be crazy because you’ve already made up your mind. this decision shouldn’t be that easy, but you are scarily sure. 

the earth’s roots are retreating back into the grass and your body is free for the first time. you can’t tell if the air will catch you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. you’ll be the first human to fly, even if it kills you. it probably will.

“i love you.” your feet leave ground and find nothing below them. the helium in your balloons is straining against your weight. your breath hitches—maybe this is how your life ends. maybe this is how the illusion that you’d created for yourself, a love between a human and an angel, disappears: shattered like bones on concrete.

you open your eyes. you hadn’t even realized you closed them. they meet a sky of warm brown, glinting with the promise of flight. the brightness of her smile makes the light of the sun pale in comparison, the same sun she’s gotten closer to than you ever will. her nose is dotted with freckles, mirroring the constellations that you’re sure she’s flown through countless times. you can practically see her wings, her halo. your confession, one you thought would land heavily in the space between you, feels like its expanding into something light. something... weightless.

the air seems to grow solid beneath you. it’s like you’ve realized you can fly. you’re starting to think you can.

“i love you, too.” 

she loves you. saeko loves you. 

saeko, an angel.

[hops-hunny]

Hello?

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Request: N/A

Summary: Neville and (Y/n) get high together often.

Warnings: drugs( weed lmao), swearing, making out

A/N: This was based on the specific lyric below from Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. Pothead confident Neville is my favorite headcanon dfregfefe. I also felt like writing for Neville bc after reading a lot of @lxngbottom​‘s fics I was DEEPLY inspired.

“Are you into me, like I'm into you?

Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?

You're so close, and yet so far

I wonder how you look when you're in the dark”

The Weasley siblings all found themselves in absolute bliss when their parents told them they were going on a getaway. Apparently Arthur had learned about muggle spas and thought it’d be a lovely idea to take his wife to one for a much needed vacation after many years she had been caring for her children (and sometimes their guess) without barely any breaks. The gaggle of gingers all found it to be quite a wonderful idea too, but for other reasons. Although they had varying reasons of why they were excited for their parents to leave the house, Ron’s being wanting to invite over the other ⅔ members of the Golden Trio, Ginny wanting to wear that skirt that her mum always told her was ‘just a tad too short, dear’, and lastly Fred & George wanting to try out new and exciting inventions there was that one thing that tied them all together: wanting to get blazed out of their fucking minds. 

However, as quickly as that mischievous glint formed in all their eyes, their mother said something they all dreaded.

“Oh and by the way, we’re leaving Percy in charge!”

A collective groan was shared as the boy in question held a proud and cocky smirk that once again, he was the most trusted out of his siblings. However as per usual, Fred and George were not giving up that easily.

“What are we going to do?! You know Percy will rat on us!” Ron whispered yelled at the other three through gritted teeth. They all sat around the quaint little living room, distressed at what to do. Ron had already sent a text (is that what they were called? He wasn’t used to the muggle technology (Y/n) had got them all to use) to both Hermione and Harry telling them to pack their bags. He’d never live it down!

“Oh relax dear brother of mine! Me and Freddie here suspected something like this would happen so we came prepared. Right Fred?” George said with a smirk as he looked to his twin to the right of him. George nodded before pulling out an envelope.

“Exhibit A also known as ‘Blackmail dear Percival Into Leaving the House for the Summer.” he grin grew wider as he opened the envelope pulling out the photos. In the photos, Percy was shirtless during a party in the gryffindor common room. He had a half drunk bottle of fire whiskey in one hand and a blunt in his other which was held to his lips. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if dear ol’ mum and pop anonymously got pictures of their golden boy doing such awful acts?” he cooed, feigning a voice of disappointment.

“While you two idiots may not be helpful for jack shit else, leave it up to you to have a plan to get into trouble.” Ginny said rolling her eyes, a small smile forming on her face. “Well I guess that’s settled then. I’ll hit up (Y/n), Ron you hit up Nev and tell him to bring the loud. Lots of it too!”

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

That’s how they all ended up where they are currently. ‘Exhibit A’ was more than enough to get Percy packing his bags and leaving for a friends house after their parents had left. And of course, Hermione, Harry, (Y/n), and Neville had all shown up at the Burrow bright and as happy as ever. 

Although many people dealt around Hogwarts, Neville’s weed was always the best. He grew custom strains which were infused with other magical plants that had all sorts of properties. You wanted it to taste and smell like cheesecake? Done. Something odorless that packed a mean punch? Also done. He took good care of his product and went through the precautions to make sure it was not only safe but also that he didn’t get caught. He wasn’t always an avid weed smoker though. Originally, a friend had suggested it to him to help with his anxiety which had increased over the years but eventually it became less of an anxiety reducer and more of a favorite pastime. And hell, it left him with a pretty fucking nice amount of galleons in his pocket. It was also how he had met her.

He looked up at her form as she sat across the shed, looking as radiant as ever. She was laughing at something but he didn't know what over the sound of the music. One of his favorite things about her was how beautiful the whiteness of her smile was in comparison to her rich brown skin. It drove him absolutely nuts. It had only been a few weeks since he last saw her but as usual there was something new about her appearance.

He let his eyes wander over the work of art that was (Y/n). Her hair was different, her usual shoulder length black box braids had been swapped our for a beautiful set of honey blonde faux locs that stopped at her waist. In addition to her septum, she now had a nose ring on the left side of her nose and- was that a smiley piercing? Her skin was glowing vibrantly under the different hues of gold of LED lights that corresponded with the music. His eyes shifted down to her chest. 'Hm, she finally got the other one pierced' he noted due to the fact that her crochet bikini top left only the best bits of her breast to the imagination. And then he got to his favorite part. Her legs. Her supple, plush, smooth as glass legs. This wasn’t the first time he had stared at them longer than needed. He couldn’t help it, they were so fucking thick. And, were those his shorts? She must've stolen them from him last smoke sesh. He didn't mind though, she pulled off those denim shorts well and they hugged her in all the right fucking places.

“Bloody hell Nev, what’s taking you so long to roll the joint? Are you already that gone?” Ron groaned as he threw his head back. Neville looked down at the half rolled blunt in his hands, continuing to lick and roll it skillfully.

“Shut up Ron, just hit the fucking bong and leave Neville alone. Ol’ dramatic ass.” there was that honeysuckle voice he loved. God he could listen to her talk for fucking hours. I mean he had before. Her voice was sweet in the center and rough around the edges, a thick american accent still prominent in her voice. He smiled at that, looking up at her to find her already looking at him. As he continued to roll, he licked a fat strip on the wrap before shooting her a wink. 

“Thank you, petal.” he murmured quietly knowing she hadn’t heard as he looked back down at his hands finishing up. He grabbed the same lighter that he carried with him everywhere before lighting the end. As he was about to take a hit, a certain pair of gloss coated lips leaned over his shoulders taking a hit as she wrapped her arms around his upper half. 

Ron groaned again in irritation. “I hate it when you get the first hit! You always leave that damn sticky shit all over the blunt.” as he glared at the girl. She giggled before crawling off the wraparound couch taking her place next to brunette ruffling his long shaggy hair. He had been growing it out recently for no particular reason (definitely not the girl to his right).

“Ron you always buggin on something, nigga shut the fuck up! That’s why when you hit the blunt you leave it wet. Ol’ soppy mouth nigga I swear to god. Share with Mione.” she retorted as she leaned into Neville’s side looking up at him. He smiled down at her before wrapping his arm around her bringing her impossibly close. They both loved each other's touch when they were high. Whenever he’d touch her in one spot, (Y/n) always felt it in another- especially between her legs. She leaned up, kissing his freckled cheek with a smile. “Hey sir, how’s my favorite doing today?” she questioned as he bent down, placing a kiss right below her ear. 

“You know I’m always content when you’re next to me, flower. You don’t even have to question it.” he whispered in her ear before pulling back. She felt her face heat up as she rolled her eyes shoving him lightly. She crawled in his lap, straddling him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He instinctively moved one to her waist, stroking the smooth exposed sepia skin that was there for his enjoyment.

“You always talking some mess, Nev. Why don’t you do something bout it?” she said, motioning for him to hold the blunt up to her lips. He ignored her, looking into her eyes as he took a fat rip. He removed his hand from her waist, gripping her cheeks with it, rings digging into her skin. He leaned impossibly close as he shot gunned the smoke into her mouth. His lips hovered impossibly close to hers. ‘Finally’ she found herself thinking as she closed her eyes. However, the feeling of his soft pink lips never hit hers and she opened her eyes to find him smirking at her.

“And ruin this little game we have? Never.” He said, finally passing the blunt to her. If he had to be honest with himself, he was scared shitless. He was afraid if he actually did make that final move, jumped that final obstacle that she would be gone from his life. Sure, they made out all the time. It was normal for the two of them to get quite handsy with each other during smoke sessions but he found not even that being enough. He didn’t just wanna have his hands on her when he was high or wasted out of his fucking mind, he wanted her all the time. He wanted to sneak into each other's dorms and cuddle till wee hours of the morning. To carry her things to class for her. He wanted to live, breathe, and sleep (Y/n). But, is that what she wanted? He never knew. 

She sighed softly to herself, contemplating. It was very apparent to her that Neville wanted her just as badly as he wanted her. So, why had he never jumped the gun? Did he not want more? Was he really content with this little cat and mouse game they had? He couldn’t be, she knew who he was at heart which was a romantic just as she was. She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard the familiar beat of Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. She smirked at him, leaning her forehead against his as she began to grind softly on his lap.

“Are you into me? Like I’m into you. Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?” she sung to him softly, her (e/c) eyes meeting his hazel ones. He moved his hands up and down her body as she continued to grind her hips down on his. He let his hands travel to her ass, gripping it firmly. She leaned back slightly as she hit the blunt before returning the favor he had earlier. “You’re so close, and yet so far. I wonder how you look when you’re in the dark.” (Y/n)  continued singing as kissed up his neck, nibbling at the junction of his jaw and neck. He took one of the hands from her ass, moving some of the locs that had fallen into her face. He quickly tossed the blunt out of her hand into the ashtray in the table in front of them before leaning in and kissing her with such strong intensity.

The honey blonde haired girl moaned softly, already putty in the boy’s hands. Neville always knew exactly what to do with his hands. Where to kiss, where to tug, where to bite. Anything but actually dealing with the problem between her legs. She tangled her hands into the back of his hair, matching his lip movement. As he continued holding her ass with one hand, he used his other to stroke her cheek gently. A stark contrast to the kiss they were in which was wet, rough, and fast. He trailed his tongue over her lip which she gladly accepted. Their tongues danced together lazily as sweat began to build up on both of them. She pulled away partly, a trail of spit connecting them.

“Take this dumb ass jacket off. It’s the middle of July.” She grumbled as she began to unzip it, leaving him in some muggle band shirt she had gotten him one year from the states. She leaned back in, continuing to move her hips to the beat of the song. Neville began to move his hips up to match her movements. “Oh? So you got moves now huh? Who taught you those?”

“Don’t play dumb petal, you know you did.” He responded before gripping at her neck with his ringed hand. She gasped softly, looking into his blood shot blown out eyes. The music, the lighting, his touch? It was all much too much to handle. Her senses were overloaded by pleasure, the jane in her system. He tightened his hand some, leaning in closer. “You’re driving me absolutely mad, darling. Do you know that? I’d do anything you asked me to.” the movement of her hips had stilled but he kept going. She could feel the imprint of his member through his pants. Suddenly it was the only thing (Y/n) could focus on.

“Them Ravenclaw girls weren’t lying then, huh? You packin like that Nev?” she said suddenly. She knew he had asked her something a second ago, but the weed was really starting to hit. Her brain was foggy and hazed, the only thing she could think about now was him. She took one of her manicured hands, trailing it down his shirt till she reached his crotch. She gripped it in her hands, eyes widening slightly. He chuckled softly, catching her attention.

“Don’t act so surprised. You know I used to get around quite a bit.” He said, moving so his tent was resting against her inner thigh.

“Used to?” she questioned, laying her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. She took in his scent sighing softly. Neville always smelled like a mix of lavenders, cologne, and that loud. She knew it from anywhere, especially when she smelled it in the amortentia they brewed during potions that one time.

“Yeah I don’t really pipe girls like I used to.” He moved his hands up, embracing her close as he kissed the top of her head. “Ever since a certain pesky little American girl started making their way into my life, she’s all I could think about.” she rolled her eyes some, punching him on the arm as he began to laugh.

“Don’t fuck around like that, that shit aint even funny.” she grumbled, pouting as she crossed her arms. “I thought you had an actual answer!”

“On god that was my actual answer, (Y/n)! You asked why and I told you why. Absolutely anyone could tell I’m mad for you.” Neville said as he uncrossed her arms, holding her small delicate hands in his large ones. He intertwined their hands, her sharp acrylic nails digging into his hands slightly. “Did you know when Keaton Willis asked you to Hogsmeade, I was so mad that I wouldn’t sell to him for 3 months?!”

“But I didn’t even go with him! Me and you went together to go get ice cream, remember?”

“So?! He still fucking asked you. I’m getting heated just thinkin’ about it.” He mumbled as he looked away from her. He pulled her closer, resting his head on the top of hers. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you dating such a loser. He’s not even a good guy and he’s always fucking short with his galleons when he buys. I have to practically hound the guy for my money. Yknow what? Fuck it.” he looked up at the brown skinned girl before holding her face in both his hands. He took in her features. Her plump lips, edges laid to perfection, face ‘beat to the gods’ as she would say. “Go out with me. Be my girl, petal. I can’t bear you not being mine for another second.” he said. She pretended to ponder for a bit before she looked back at him.

“Depends, will I get free weed? I expect free weed from dating the weed man, you know.” she said with a giggle. He rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“You already get free weed! Don’t pretend you don’t.” he said loudly, catching the others’ attention.

“What? Nev that’s not fair! You always make me pay and we’re mates! What happened to bros befo-”

“Ron you finish that and you ain’t leavin this shed with an eye, I can promise you that boy.” she whipped her head around quickly, glaring at the boy. Ron quickly shut his mouth knowing first hand that her promises were never empty. He gulped slightly before nodding, turning back to Hermione who handed him the bong muttering something about how he looked like he needed it.

“But to answer your question, Nev baby, I’d love to be your girl. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than doing so.” (Y/n) leaned forward, leaving a lip gloss print on his cheek. 

“Well I’m glad you said yes because it would’ve been very awkward explaining to everyone tomorrow where that hickey on your neck came from.”

“Nev!”

[starions]

"no, sorry, you laughed.. ive never seen you do that before, it's pretty" i forgot the exact sentence as i was typing I'm so sorry.....

"no, sorry, you laughed.. ive never seen you do that before, it's pretty" for percistair :)

1219 words (this got away from me)

fluff? first encounters? kind of?

Alistair heaved his sword out of the darkspawn’s corpse with a grunt, watching the lifeless body flop over with a thud. Though he shouldn’t be, he was surprised by just how many darkspawn were in the Korcari Wilds, and this close to camp too. Whether or not this was a real Blight was uncertain—though Duncan was sure of it, and Alistair trusted the man with his life—but one couldn’t deny that the amount of darkspawn here was overwhelming.

The journey to gather darkspawn blood and the Warden treaties was tiring but necessary. The recruits Duncan found helped—somewhat. Ser Jory, a trained knight, was startled at the first sight of the darkspawn, yet soon began hacking them down with ease. Daveth, it seemed, picked up some fighting skills from his years as a pickpocket, and was useful in taking out the grunts of the pacts.

The girl—Percy was the name—had Alistair worried for her. She held onto her twin daggers like she’d never touched them before, and was constantly shaking like a leaf. She wore her armor awkwardly despite it fitting well, and Alistair couldn’t count on his fingers how often he’d saved her from being stabbed to death by a darkspawn sword.

In all honesty, if the Joining didn’t kill her, she might die out here in the Wilds. She was nobility, not trained for a life such as this. Duncan picked her for a reason, though, and he had to respect that decision.

Nevertheless, the group pressed on deeper into the wilds. Often Alistair would check over his shoulder to check on the girl, though she never met his glance. She’d spoken less than a handful of words to him in the small time they’ve known each other, and always had a distant, empty expression in her cold blue eyes. Alistair had heard little of exactly what transpired in her family’s castle, but he knew enough to know that it had traumatized her deeply.

The deeper they walked through the wilds, the more jittery Ser Jory became. “Perhaps we should turn back? We have the blood, and it doesn’t seem like the treaties are here. We should go back. Let’s go back.”

“Quit your whining,” Daveth shot back, “aren’t Grey Wardens supposed to be all high and mighty and brave? You don’t think your pretty wife back in Highever would think you a coward?”

“It’s not cowardly to admit we are walking into a death trap! We got what we need; we can tell Duncan we didn’t find the treaties! What good are we if we die in the wilds, huh?”

“I don’t plan on dying here, ser knight. You on the other hand might if you complain any louder; the darkspawn might think you a crying babe and say ‘Oh! Here’s lunch!’”

The group was stopped now, Alistair and Percy watching the two. Alistair with annoyance in his eyes—he never knew what to do when he led—and Percy with nervousness in hers. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she agreed with Jory.

Jory’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “Do you think I’d let a pickpocket speak to me like that? Have some respect for a knight of Redcliffe!”

Alistair watched as Daveth took a step toward Jory, hand reaching to grab a dagger that was strapped to his back. “I’d sooner respect a nug than a man who abandoned his pregnant wife.”

“Enough!” Alistair said, stepping in between the two with his own sword drawn. “Our task was clear. We return three vials of darkspawn blood and the Grey Warden treaties. We cannot settle for anything else. Is that understood?”

The two men let their arms fall with a huff, and even Percy was taken back by the tone of his voice. It felt like she was being scolded, and she was not the one causing any issue.

Alistair sheathed his sword, running a hand through his hair. “Maker’s breath. You two have me acting like some sort of Chantry sister. Do I need to adorn the robes and recite the Chant of Light as well?”

The two recruits glanced at each other before shaking their heads no.

“Good, because if it comes to it, I will. And my good robes are in the wash.”

The sound of Percy giggling made Alistair look toward her, eyebrows raised in shock. Not that he would be shocked at any woman laughing at his jokes—though it was seldom they did—but he had never seen her smile, let alone laugh. It was a delightful sound, like bells, something beautiful that didn’t belong in the darkness of the Korcari Wilds.

Percy noticed his expression, and her face immediately fell. “What?” She said meekly. “Is something the matter?”

“No, sorry, you laughed… I’ve never heard you do that before,” Alistair said, wincing at his own awkwardness. “Let’s get moving then, the temple that Duncan said the treaties would be in should be just ahead.” Alistair hoped she wouldn’t notice his change of topic.

Percy did notice, unbeknownst to him, but stayed quiet as the group trekked forward into the depths of the wilds. She didn’t know what to make of Alistair, just yet. He was funny, kind, and knew how to lead this small group of recruits, though Percy could see how uncomfortable it made him. He also didn’t pry into her life, even though she knew he knew at least some of what transpired. She appreciated that, at least.

Soon, Alistair was leading the pack, and Percy wasn’t certain she wanted to be walking with Daveth and Jory. They weren’t like Alistair; if she fell behind, they wouldn’t wait for her to catch up. She assumed they forgot she was even present. Instead, Percy picked up her pace to catch up to Alistair, much to his surprise.

He said nothing, though he wanted to, and occasionally glanced at the girl as they walked. Finally, the silence became too much to bear for Alistair, and he cleared his throat. “It’s pretty.”

Percy perked her head up with a hmm?

“Your laugh,” Alistair said, chuckling nervously. “It’s pretty. I’m, ah, I’m glad one of my bad jokes made you laugh.”

Percy blinked in shock, then gave a shy smile. “Oh, thank you,” she paused, “and it wasn’t that terrible of a joke. I’ve heard worse.”

“Oh, you don’t know how relieved that makes me,” Alistar said. “To know there is someone out there with worse humor than I, well I think that just made my day.”

“I know something that will make your day even better.”

“What’s that?” Alistair said with a smile, glancing down at the smaller girl. It dawned on him that this might be the longest conversion that’d had with each other, sad as it was. He had never seen her smile that wide; it made his stomach burn.

“I have an extra pair of Chantry robes you can borrow.”

Alistair’s face broke into a full smile and he laughed so loudly even Daveth and Jory shared a glance. A fleeting thought came and went in Alistair’s head as he gazed down at Percy, with her face covered in blood and grime, apples of her cheeks red and a smile that made her eyes crinkle. If any of these recruits survived the Joining, he hoped it was her.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Reflection//F.W.

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Implied eating disorder, implied body dysmorphia, body insecurities, insecurities in general, mentions of food/drink, language, angst, fluff, sad and insecure Freddie :(

Summary: Fred can’t even look at his reflection without feeling bad about himself and thinking about how you deserve so much more than anything he has to offer. 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. No matter who you are or what you look like, you are absolutely beautiful. If you or if you know anyone who suffers from body dysmorphia (specifically men because it’s not talked about enough), please reach out to someone and learn more. My messages are always open!

Arthur Weasley. Molly Weasley. Bill Weasley. Charlie Weasley. Percy Weasley. Fred and George Weasley. Ron Weasley. Ginny Weasley. The Weasley family. While all connected by their Gryffindor house and flaming red hair, each member of the family was unique in their own sense. 

Arthur and Molly were the parents. Arthur’s fascination with Muggles as a Pureblood and Molly’s blunt but loving motherly nature were what set them apart. 

Bill was the oldest, the golden child. He was loved at Hogwarts and became a successful curse breaker. No one ever had problems with the wonder that was Bill Weasley. 

Charlie forged his own path. The great Hogwarts Quidditch star who likely could have gone professional, had he not found his passion in dragons and made a new life for himself in Romania.  

Percy. Perfect prefect Percy, the one who would grow up to be the Minister of Magic, at least that's what everyone thought. He had every aspect of his life perfectly planned out down to the last detail, and oh how Molly loved her rule-abiding son, never a troublemaker. 

Ron had a more difficult time making a name for himself. The youngest brother in the family and yet not quite the baby. However, his friendship with Harry Potter and their knack for getting themselves into trouble every year made Ronald Weasley a known name around Hogwarts. 

Ginny was the only girl, which made her unique already.  Not only that, but she was fantastic at Quidditch, had the heart of a true Gryffindor Lion, and was overall a kind, vivacious, adventurous soul. 

Each Weasley had one thing that set them apart. Everyone, that is, except the duo that could never be separated. 

Fred and George Weasley. Not Fred Weasley and George Weasley. Fred and George. As if they were one person, joined at the hip with the same ideas, the same personalities, and the same feelings. No matter how hard they tried when they were younger, everyone always came back to calling them Fred and George. Even their own mother often got them mixed up, and showed no care in doing so. As long as it was one of the twins she was alright

. 

Once their years at Hogwarts started, the two boys decided to stop fighting the inevitable, and thus began their reign as “Fred and George Weasley, Prank Master Extraordinaires.” They were always together. They were both Quidditch beaters. They pulled some of the finest pranks Hogwarts had ever seen together. They sat next to each other in all of their classes and would sometimes switch seats or call each other the wrong name to see if anyone else would notice. They never did. 

“Freddie, you coming?” you asked your boyfriend, jumping up onto his back. It was Hogsmeade weekend, which meant the tradition of you and your friends raiding Honeydukes, Zonkos, and finishing out at The Three Broomsticks was minutes away from happening once again. Fred laughed and spun around, quickly getting dizzy and pulling you both down into the Gryffindor couch. 

You rolled on top of him and pulled his chin in for a quick kiss, limbs awkwardly tangled in each other as you shared a sweet moment with the ginger you’d been dating for the last 3 months. 

“Ugh my eyes!” George stood behind the couch, hands covering his face in order to shield his view from the innocent scene in front of him. 

“Oh shut up George,” you said. “You’re just jealous.”

Fred smirked at his slightly younger brother and pulled you down into a deeper kiss. “Yeah, jealous,” he mumbled against your lips, which resulted in George physically separating your faces with his hands. 

“You two disgust me,” he scoffed. “Are you guys ready?”

Fred struggled against his brother’s hand for a second trying to recapture your lips once again, but he eventually gave up once you caved and pulled away. 

“I’m all set, has everyone else already left?” The rest of your small friend group consisted of Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, who you had been close with since your first year. The three boys would run off and pull horrendous pranks while you, Angelina, and Alicia would roll your eyes, secretly coming up with new ideas for jokes to pull on Filch. 

George jumped over the couch and hoisted you up by your arms, his strength making you fly through the air for a few seconds before you landed shakily on the warm rugs decorating the floor. 

“Yep,” replied your friend. “They said they’d meet us in the Courtyard and we can go from there. If I remember correctly it’s your turn to buy butterbeers.” 

You groaned and threw your hands to your pocket, making sure you had the money. “I thought you would’ve forgotten about that.”

George wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a brotherly squeeze. “Never, love. Let’s get going.”

Giggling, you walked in step with your best friend and wrapped an arm around his waist. You turned your head and put out your other arm, gesturing for Fred to come join you. 

“C’mon, Fred, what’re you waiting for?”

Fred wasn’t waiting for anything. In fact, the longer he saw you interact with George, the less he wanted to spend the day watching it continue to happen. He didn’t look at you and instead just fiddled with his sweater, the one you had stolen from him so many times until he finally took it back to appreciate how it now smelled like you. 

“I’m not feeling too well today, you guys can just go.”

You pouted and fully turned to face your boyfriend. “You were fine just a second ago, do you want me to stay with you?”

He could tell you were about to walk back over and crawl into his lap, but he really needed to be alone. “I’m ok love, just not feeling it today. Bring me back something from Honeydukes though, will ya?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded, wondering if there was anything else you could do to help. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” said George, “I can take care of you. We’ll have a blast!”

“I can take care of myself, Georgie,” you said. Fred winced at the nickname. “But I thank you kindly for the offer.” You bowed sarcastically and began to howl with laughter as George tickled your sides and threw you over his shoulder. “See you later Fred, don’t have too much fun without me!”

He looked up at the last second, only catching a glimpse of your face contorted with giggles as his twin carried you through the halls of the castle. 

Fred sighed and got up from the couch, sulking as he made his way to his now empty dorm room. He lied down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, imagination and worries running wild. What were you and George doing right now? Was he still holding onto you, laughing as he clutched your perfect body in his arms? Fred’s jaw clenched, thinking about his brother holding you, kissing you like he did. Because what was the difference between him and his brother? Why would you care if it was George that was touching you instead of Fred. They were the same. To everyone in the world, they were just the mirror images of each other. Just a stupid, unoriginal reflection. 

He felt a few hot tears well up, so he turned onto his side and curled up, letting sleep take over and wash his troubles away. 

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

“Alright George, put me down, you’ve had your fun.” The Weasley boy pretended to drop you, only making you clutch his shoulder harder. 

“Oh I see,” George said smirking, “now you don’t want me to put you down, huh?”

“Sod off, loser.” You wiggled out of his loosening grasp and elbowed his side. George had decided to carry you not only out of Hogwarts, but also almost the entire way to Hogsmeade itself. An act quite impressive, but the beater was known for his renowned upper body strength. 

Angelina came up and grabbed your arm, slowing you down so you would fall away from the rest of the group. “Not trying to steal my love, are you Y/N?” she asked, trying to glare at you but breaking quickly and smiling in the end. 

“I don’t know Angie,” you teased, “if you don’t make a move soon maybe I’ll have to take both twins. Paris does sound very nice this time of year.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a soft shove. “The annoying part is that you could probably pull both of them too. I see the way George looks at you.”

Your best friend, usually so confident and collected, was now very shy and insecure about her love for the younger of the Weasley twins. You and George had no feelings for each other. Both of you knew that and she of course knew that. But sometimes dumb thoughts plagued people’s minds. 

“Angie, wanna know a secret?” you asked. 

She looked up and nodded slowly. 

“The reason George and I’ve been hanging out recently is because he keeps asking me about you. ‘What’s Angie’s favorite food?’ ‘What does she like to do when she’s not kicking ass on the Quidditch pitch?’ blah blah blah.” 

Angelina laughed at your horrible impersonation of George’s voice. “You know he’s like a brother to me. I mean, if things between me and Fred keep going how they are then maybe one day he’ll be my actual brother.”

She nodded gratefully and sighed a breath of relief. “I know, I know. It’s just a little weird for me that you two are so close. I feel like I’m third wheeling whenever you guys are there, and you aren’t even the ones dating!”

“That’s just how George is. He’s so sweet, so he’s always there to cheer me up. But you have to trust me, there is not and will not ever be something between me and him. No offence to George, but that’s gross.”

“You’re dating his twin brother! How is that gross?”

“You of all people know that they’re not the same. I prefer my men cocky, arrogant, and pretty,” you quipped, calling Fred out. 

“And I prefer mine sweet, compassionate, and handsome, but it looks like George has got a long way to go before he can earn that title.”

Angelina was referring to the scene in front of you, where the man in question was currently shoving Lee’s face into the snow-covered ground. 

“Maybe we both need better taste in men,” you said, running with Angelina to tackle George and save your dear friend. 

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

It was 2 weeks later, and Fred was once again missing out on a trip to Hogsmeade. Gryffindor had just played Slytherin in the game of the year, a close match that had the entire school screaming and on the edge of their seats. 

“And there Malfoy and Potter go, racing into the sky with their eyes on the snitch,” Lee Jordan shouted into the microphone. “The current score is Gryffindor with 130 points and Slytherin with 110. It all comes down to who can catch this flying bugger.”

A loud crack resounded across the pitch as George sent a bludger straight toward Malfoy, hitting his broom and almost knocking him off. 

“Amazing hit by Number 6, beater George Weasley. This could be the end of the game folks, this could be it. Oh! Malfoy’s back on his broom and racing to catch up to Potter. Weasley gave the young Gryffindor seeker a great head start, and it looks like he might have it!”

“Fred!” Angelina cried. Fred looked to where she was gesturing and saw the bludger coming straight toward him. This was his shot. He had a clear path to hit Malfoy, securing the win for Gryffindor. 

You were in the crowd, screaming at the top of your lungs. He didn’t want to disappoint you, or the team, or his house. He didn’t want to disappoint people anymore. 

“Number 5 Fred Weasley winds up to hit a bludger, he’s got a clean shot toward Malfoy! If he can get this hit it’s game over and victory for Gryffindor!”

With all of his strength he sent the bludger flying, but apparently his aim hadn’t improved with the extra practice he had been doing. 

Lee continued to comment on the disaster that was about to happen. “One strong hit to the bludger, but it looks like it’s going in the wrong direction. Oh no! Instead of hitting Malfoy the bludger just hit Potter, sending him and his broom spiraling out of control! Malfoy has taken this opportunity to catch up to the snitch and...and...he’s got it. Malfoy catches the snitch, making the final score 260 for Slytherin to 130 for Gryffindor. A well played match by everyone.”

Except it wasn’t a well played match for Fred. He had let everyone down, again. He was used to it from his parents and older siblings, even most of his teachers. But he had never let down his house before. He had never let down his team. 

Fred locked himself away in his room, refusing to talk to anyone. He pulled off his Quidditch robes and shirt and stared at his reflection in the wall length mirror hanging in his dorm room. 

He stared at his body, something many girls would comment on and swoon over. He was Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and resident hottie at Hogwarts. Except he wasn’t anymore. 

The definition of his abs weren’t strong enough. He was gaining too much fat, eating too much food. He wasn’t working out enough, that was it. If he would've worked out more then he would’ve made the shot during the game. 

Fred wasn’t as ripped as George, he knew that for a fact. Living in the same room for their entire lives, Fred knew how strong his brother was, how defined his biceps were and how he could lift you with absolutely no problem. Fred knew that George was the better beater. It was just statistics. He made the most hits, had the best aim, and won the team the most points.  

The only thing Fred was better at was making jokes, but he knew no one liked them. His friends must’ve laughed out of pity. There was no way anyone could not find him annoying, especially with how cocky and overconfident he came across. They just tolerated him because of George. You just loved him because you saw him as another George. You should be with George. 

Fred stared into the reflection of himself in the mirror, the one that looked equal parts like him and his twin brother. He groaned as he bent down to the floor, quickly starting another repetition of countless pushups until he would pass out from exhaustion.

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

Fred had stuck to his cycle. Wake up, eat (but not much), go on a run across the castle grounds, go to class, work out for 2 hours, eat dinner (but once again, not much), work out again and then pass out from working so hard. Any time he had outside of class was spent on the Quidditch pitch or locked away in his dorm, overworking his body and secretly comparing it to his brother’s. No matter what he did, he never caught up. He was still the more annoying, weaker, less attractive reflection of his twin. 

“There’s something wrong with him,” George said to you, walking to the courtyard for one of your breaks. “He’s been so off lately and I can’t figure out why.”

“You’re telling me!” You had noticed Fred’s changes in behavior and tried to talk to him about it. He had become quieter and less outgoing, usually choosing to be alone and do God knows what while you went off with your friends. In fact, the two of you hadn’t had an evening to yourselves in over a month. Not ever seeing your boyfriend was beginning to take a toll on you too. 

“I’ve tried talking to him and asking if anything’s wrong, but he always blows me off,” you complained. “He just seems so sad and miserable, and the worst part is, I have no idea why!”

George just shook his head. “Me neither. He’s my bloody twin brother and we never even talk anymore. He’s always on his broom or locked himself in our room. Doesn’t ever let me in, so I don’t know what’s going on back there.”

Thoughts began to race through your head. “Do you,” you gulped. “Do you think he’s hiding something from us? Or...or someone?”

“Oh Godric no,” George said suddenly, wrapping you up in a hug. “Fred would never cheat on you darling, he loves you too much for that. He would go on and on about how bloody beautiful you are and how you’re the perfect person for him and it took everything I had not to strangle the git sometimes cuz he would never let me sleep.”

You squeezed him back tighter. “When...when did he say these things?”

George paused for a few seconds. “A little over a month ago. I...I haven’t really heard him talk much recently…”

You broke down sobbing in your friend’s arms, lowering yourself onto a bench and turning to cry into his chest. 

“Shh, shh darling, it’s not your fault. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Freddie loves you so much, he would never hurt you, ever.” He grabbed your chin so you were looking up at him. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded, eyes red and puffy before going back to his chest to cry. You spoke to him through broken sobs. “I...I’m gonna talk to him tonight. I need to f-find out what’s...wrong.”

George stroked your hair soothingly and rubbed your back. “Sounds like a plan, love. You’ve got this.”

You thanked him and continued to cry until you felt all of your sadness release. George helped you up and walked you to the bathroom to get your face cleaned up for the next class. Little did you or George know that Fred, from afar, had just witnessed the entire scene. 

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

In his usual place as of late, Fred was curled up on his bed, unable to move from the intensity he had just put his body through. He tried to shift to get into a more comfortable position but it only made him groan and his stomach growl. 

His arms, which were supposed to be getting stronger, were weak from malnutrition. He wasn’t even strong enough to sit up and do his Potions homework, which only made him feel worse about himself. 

All his life it had been Fred and George. It didn’t matter that his name was first, because there was always George to follow. They were the same person, and yet he still felt inferior to his brother. No matter what he did, how hard he worked, George was always going to be better. He was the stronger twin, the kinder one, the more compassionate one who knows when a prank has gone too far. He was everything that you deserve, and everything Fred wished he could be. 

Fred was startled by a knock on the door. “Freddie,” your muffled voice called through. He stayed quiet, hoping you would leave and look for him somewhere else, or better yet give up on him altogether. He couldn’t stand to look at you at the moment. 

“Freddie I’m coming in.” Before he could do anything you had cast alohomora and were standing next to his bed. 

Fred turned his head away from you, trying not to let you see how red his face was from crying. He pulled the covers up over his face, blatantly ignoring you. 

“We need to talk.” You sat down next to him and ripped the blanket off, revealing a mostly naked Fred aside from his pair of boxers. You grabbed his shoulders to roll him over to face you, but you jumped back as he let out a pained groan. 

“Get out, Y/N. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You haven’t wanted to talk for the past month and I’m tired of it. I know there’s something wrong, and it’s killing me to see you like this. Please, Fred, you need to tell me what’s happening.”

The boy rolled his eyes and slowly moved to face you. “Why?” he asked. “So you can run off to George and have him comfort you? Why don’t you just save us both the trouble and go be with him.”

You were shocked by his words. Fred had never been the jealous type. Whenever you would talk casually with your exes or other boys would flirt with you, Fred was understanding and calm, always saying that you were his and he knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. But now for some reason he was seething with jealousy, and over his brother no less. It didn’t make any sense. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” you asked indignantly. “You know that George is just my friend, my best friend. He’s in love with Angelina and I’m in love with you.”

Fred scoffed. “Yeah, alright then. What did you and Angelina do, draw straws and decide who gets who? It’s not like it would matter, as long as you got one of the twins.”

You sat down on the bed, fuming with anger. “Where is this coming from? You know I love you. I don’t love George, at least not more than a friend or a brother. I don’t love anyone else and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you.”

Your hand traveled to his shoulder but he jerked up so that he was inches away from you. “Don’t lie to me. You’re just like everyone else. You got one of the twins, and then you realized that you got the worse one, so off you are to go seduce George, because he’s just my reflection but better. I know exactly how you think you worthless bitch!”

Both of you went silent. Fred had never spoken those things to you before. Never once had he raised his voice in anger, and he had never even thought about calling you a bitch or anything of the sort. 

You brought your hand back to slap him, but you hesitated when he just gave up and sighed, awaiting the hit and not even trying to do anything about it. He was weak and exhausted and had completely given up on everything. 

Lowering your hand, you moved it to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch, letting small tears fall from his eyes and drop onto your fingers. You pulled him into your shoulder slowly, where he sniffled and cuddled up next to you. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that. You’re perfect.”

After a few seconds you finally spoke up. “I love you so much. You cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day with your jokes.” Fred hummed into your shoulder. “You’re always helping me relax when things get too stressful, and you take me on the best adventures I could ever imagine.” He turned his head to meet your eyes. “You and George, while you might look the same, are completely different. I could never love him the way I love you, because he’s not you. He’s sweet, compassionate Georgie, and you’re fierce, loyal, loving, optimistic, beautiful Freddie.”

Fred nuzzled into your shoulder and pulled you down so you were both laying down on his bed. He mumbled something that you couldn’t make out. 

“What was that love?”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He spoke so shyly, pieces of his insecurities finally becoming apparent. 

You held his face in your hands and stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, pretty, and absolutely perfect the way you are.” You ran your hands down his toned abs, starting to understand what he had been doing those many hours each day. “No matter how much muscle you have or how big or small you are, I’ll always love you. You look perfect to me.”

To show Fred exactly how you felt you kissed him all over his body, starting at his neck and moving to his chest all the way down to his thighs and calves. “Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you have to be super buff and toned. All bodies are beautiful, and that goes for men too. And you are the most beautiful of them all.”

Fred squeezed you tight, mentally hitting himself for not talking to you earlier. You loved him and he knew that. You didn’t love George and you didn’t love him because he was one of the Weasley twins. You loved him because he was simply Fred. Fred Weasley. 

You shifted out of his hold and started to leave the room. “Where are you going love, please stay,” he asked, giving you his biggest puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m gonna sneak into the kitchens and get you some food. You need to eat, Freddie. I’ve seen you skip meals and it’s not healthy.” He nodded reluctantly, still self conscious about the weight he thought he gained. 

“Speaking of not being healthy, I think you should slow down with the workouts. There’s nothing wrong with getting a better body, but you’re destroying yourself in the process. Can you take a break for a few days and rest up before reevaluating your workouts?”

It took Fred a second to think over. He still wanted a body like his brother’s, but you were right. He wouldn’t get it from not eating and constantly hurting himself. “Yeah, alright.”

“I think there’s leftover ham and potatoes from dinner, does that sound good?” Fred agreed, cozying himself back up under the covers. 

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get food and we can eat and catch up, and maybe read that book I was telling you about? You said you wanted to read it with me.”

“Sounds perfect, love. Thank you so much.”

You nodded and walked out the door, closing it softly. Fred looked around the room he had spent so much time in recently until his eyes landed on the mirror hanging on his wall. With what was left of his strength he got up and stood in front of it. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. He had so many deep seated insecurities that he would need to work out, and it would take time. But for the first time in a while, Fred could finally look at his reflection and smile. 

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here!

Commission Info for letters from your favorite comfort character here! 

A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list for this, The draco muggle series, or the Fred and George Weasley best friends Series let me know!

- “What’s the hurry boss? Where are you heading off to?” One of your co -workers asks as you rush around the store double checking all the locks on the entrances and giving your plants one final spritz

- “Hot date?” The other asks with a suggestive raised eyebrow

- “Yes.” You say simply,

- They both sputter at that

- “What? Seriously?!”

- “With who??” The other shrieks

- And right on cue there’s a light tap on the door

- Cue your employees squealing again

- “Him?!?”

- “The hottie with a dye job?”

- George offers you a smile and a wave and you smile back

- “Ainsley I trust you can lock up?” You ask, pushing the key into their hand

- They only nod

- Henry’s looking at you with his his mouth open as he watches you leave, George and you smiling at each other like a couple of lovestruck fools

- “I told you he had a crush on them” Ainsley says with a grin and Henry has a blush blooming on his cheeks as he pulls a five pound note from his wallet

- “I mean I did too- I just didn’t think he would work up the nerve to actually ask them out.”

- A moment of silence fills the air

- “I bet Ten pounds they find out if that’s their natural hair color tonight” Ainsley says with a grin, and Henry looks at her with a slightly mortified expression

- I mean, the implication of how you would find that out is just-

- “Yeah alright, our boss is a prude there’s no way” he says shaking Ainsley’s hand.

- So when George meant dinner- he meant dinner

- You’re at the tower restaurant in downtown London

- It’s on the fiftieth floor at a skyscraper at the heart of London.

- He reserved a table specifically next to a window with a view of the canal and the London eye

- It’s quite spectacular

- “Have you been here before?” He asks

- You’re glad you dressed a little nicer than you were originally thinking

- “A few times, once for a birthday and once-“

- You’re interrupted by your server bringing a bottle of champagne

- George gets a puzzled expression, he hasn’t even ordered yet

- “Compliments of the Owner, we’re still grateful you were able to fulfill that order last minute when our other florist backed out.”

- “Not a problem Charles, it was my pleasure”

- When he’s gone George flashes you a smile

- “I feel like everyone knows you” he says, lifting up a champagne flute as you toast.

- “That was just one person” you say with a smile and a giggle

- “You should have been at the store last week, my brother wouldn’t shut up about you” he says with a grin

- “Who’s your brother?”

- George describes Ron, but it doesn’t spark anything in you until he mentions the red hair

- “Oh yes, Ronnie! He comes by every month to get flowers for his girlfriend, I didn’t know he was your brother”

- What a small world

- You should have seen the similarity from the start, the hair was a dead give away really

- How come no one else at the shop had noticed either?

- “Well one of them” George shrugs

- “How many brothers do you have”

- George grins

- “That’s enough for a volleyball team!”

- “We have a sister too, the running joke is our parents wanted a girl, just one”

- By the time the appetizers are being brought out George has got the family picture from when they visited Bill in Egypt out (charmed so it doesn’t move of course)

- “You have a twin?”

- You know the second you’ve asked it that you said something wrong

- It’s not that George looks upset, or that his expression has darkened-

- He just looks so sad

- The kind of sadness that’s as deep as the Mariana Trench, hidden behind a kind smile and the gentle warmth of longing

- “I did have a twin-“ George knew this would come up sooner or later, he just didn’t want to ruin the nice mood you had going so soon

- “He passed away a few years ago”

- George is waiting for the look-

- The wide eyes, and the slight pout. That overly sympathetic look he’s gotten so often, it’s only natural. It happens to everyone, he won’t hold it against you. 

- And it forms on your face a little, because you can’t imagine what it’s like to lose someone like that. But the next thing that comes out of your mouth is original

- “What was he like?”

- “What?” George is taken aback, he was expecting words of condolence, as is typical for this situation

- “You told me all about Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and Ron, and Ginny-“

- Now he’s surprised that you’ve remembered all of his siblings names, and correctly at that

- “Now tell me about your twin”

- Your eyes are twinkling when they look to him. All of London stretches out behind you, like something from a painting. Your face is illuminated by the small candle in the middle of your table.

- It feels like something out of a movie, and George is afraid he might cry from the sheer beauty of it

- He never thought he would feel this way again

- “His name was Fred, and he was my best friend”

- He’s talked about Fred before, to his family, to his therapist and old classmates

- But he’s never had an experience quite like this

- “Umbridge? Oh she was the worst, like the bitter old nun who slaps your wrists with a ruler”

- Only worse

- “Anyway Fred and I- we planned this entire thing when we decided to leave school-“

- He tells you about the fireworks in the main hall of their boarding school, and the way they raced through the door and never came back

- “I think I would have liked Fred” you say, a warm look in your eyes

- He would have liked you too, George wants to say

- But that’s a little forward for the first date, he feels like he’s already unloaded enough with his broken family and their loss

- Lucky for him, dessert has just arrived

- “Compliments of the owner, we hope to see you both here again” Charles tells you, setting down two impressive plates of Tiramisu

- “Why do I get the feeling that whatever you did was more than just a last minute order fulfillment?”

- You shrug

- “Well after the whole thing- they started contracting me to do their regular day to day flowers” you shrug, it’s not that big of a deal, fancy places like this use a few different vendors, they probably have a different one for each day

- Which is for the best since your shop can only handle a few days at most.

- It’s not that you can’t produce enough flowers or anything, it’s just you wouldn’t be able to give Ainsley and Henry the leisurely work hours you do now, not while maintaining quality for your existing customers

- And that’s a big no for you

- “I take it business was always this good?”

- With how successful you seem, he honestly can’t imagine you struggling

- You scoff

- “It was tough at first, when I was by myself.” You still remember your family telling you that it wasn’t to late to declare bankruptcy and get a real job. “Things got better when Ainsley showed up- holidays are still tough though.”

- “Ron’s told me all about the hour long line at Valentine’s Day” George says with a grin and you bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan

- “Oh it’s going to be terrible this year.” Valentine’s Day is still a few months away, but you can already feel the dread

- “We started doing appointments only last year- because the amount of people that just show up and ransack the place is just-“

- “Oh I know,” George says. “My store doesn’t even sell anything all that romantic, but the amount of people who show up last minute to buy anything- one time a bloke even bought the decorations I had up.”

- “Have you noticed-“ you voice lowers as you lean forward. “That’s it’s never people looking for things for their significant other, it’s always-“

- “For the mistresses?”

- You nod enthusiastically

- “I thought maybe it was just my store-“ George leans forward as well now, talking very quickly

- “No the same person who ordered flowers two months in advance for their husband, will spend thirty minutes begging for me to put a bouquet together for their special friend”

- George leans back and shakes his head

- “It’s crazy isn’t it? How many people cheat?”

- You sigh, leaning back into your chair shrugging

- “It’s not our place to judge.”

- Especially not when the person in question is shoving fifty quid in your face for a god d*mn cactus and a card

- George knows that, and he knows there have been times that the only reason he was able to keep his shop afloat after Fred left is because of Valentine’s Day

- But still- cheating just irks him

- It’s the most unforgivable thing a person can do, to betray the person they love the most like that

- George knows every relationship is different- and that things aren’t clear cut-

- But he can’t ever imagine doing that to someone

- “I don’t get it though, I can’t even get one lover, let alone two or more” you laugh, and George swears it looks like you’re glowing

- He feels a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, the mischievous streak in him rolling awake after what feels like years of slumber

- “What if I told you I was trying to change that?”

- His arm is on the table, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours slightly

- You feel your face grow hot as his words sink in one by one

- A smile spreading across you face

- “I would say, I’m looking forward to it.”

BONUS:

- “So did you find out if Hottie’s color is natural?” Ainsley asks, a mischievous smile curled onto their lips. 

- “Ainsley, his name is George, he owns a hobby store a few lanes over.” You say as you finish tying the bow on an arrangement. 

- There’s a second of silence in which Henry and Ainsley exchange a look. Henry’s feeling pretty confident right now, Ainsley might have worked here longer than him, but he feels like he knows you pretty well, and he-

- “And yes it is, so you should both stop calling him Dye Job.” You say with a smile twitching on your lips. 

- Henry.exe is broken.

- Ainsley has to hide their joy, internally cheering and wondering how to spend the money. 

- “H-how do you know that?” Henry asks, maybe you’re just saying it so he and Ainsley will stop teasing your new love interest. 

- You stop, looking up from your arrangement in slight wonder.

- Ah, he was right! It looks like you’re trying to come up with an excuse.

- “Well his brothers all seem to have that hair color, I think they get it from their Dad.”

- Ainsley and Henry.exe have stopped working. 

- “YoU mEt HiS fAmIlY??” Ainsley shrieks. 

[fbfh]

I mean, you did ask - leo x reader

all  characters are aged up to 18+ for smexy subtext

word count: 2k

pairing: leo x gn child of calliope reader

genre: adventure, romance, hints at a lowkey soulmate au

summary: after a bumpy reunion turned interrogation with your friends, you finally prove to Leo that you’re someone worth catching up with

warnings: swearing, friends hold you at knife point (for good reason) memory loss, dimesion/reality travel, the phrase “horrible sexy little goose” not about an actual animal, moderate time difference between worlds, reader is acting like a cocky piece of shit half the time, you call yourself sexy a lot, annabeth slaps reader and reader is unbothered, reader and leo hae very visceral reactions upon seeing each other, piper picks up on this, moderately aggressive face grabbing, discussing personal info with someone somewhat privately, brief mentions of hand holding and hair pulling during sex, you spill tea about the rest of the demisquad, I think that’s it pls tell me if I missed any

song rec: choke - i don’t know how but they found me

a/n: this is from a very vivid daydream I had so er ah if reader seems op coded that’s cause she is uwu

You were excited to reunite with your friends after so long, but being tied up and held hostage at knifepoint by the people you love who don’t even remember you wasn’t the welcome wagon you were hoping for. Then again, as a child of Calliope, you can’t say you’re surprised. 

Apollo has a lot of kids, but demigod children of the muses are exceptionally less common. They’re volatile, really powerful, extremely engrossed in their art, and usually care more about their latest thesis paper or painting or manuscript than going on quests, and more often than not have very specific powers. You, for example, love quests but feel like you never get to go on any, usually because you’re fighting monsters somewhere else. One fun little power you inherited from your mom is - somewhat involuntary - dimension shifting. 

A lot of times you just get summoned somewhere else, with a little inherent background knowledge and your weapon, set free into the new world like a horrible sexy little goose. There’s usually some kind of objective you need to meet; find this person, set something in motion, give someone support in a time of need, deliver a package. After that, you get sent back to your family at camp half blood. The catch, one of them at least, is that a few days Somewhere Else could be no more than a few minutes in your homeverse. 

Another catch is that because of all that, and the fact that you wouldn’t know how to begin explaining, let alone if anyone would believe you, no one knows you can do this yet. Chiron has an idea, but you’ve never told anyone outright. 

You guess now is as good of a time as any to come clean, as Percy holds his sword threateningly close to your neck. You let out a disbelieving laugh, and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, okay… you want the truth?” he starts to back off, and you continue, leaning forward, “I’m not surprised you’d want to know where someone this sexy-” your words cut off as Annabeth’s hand slaps you across the face. You let out a laugh of disbelief, cheek stinging.

“A cheap shot, Annabeth? Wow, I really didn’t take you for the type,” she grabs your face, leaning in close, knife once again against your throat. 

"How do you know my name." She hisses, and behind her, the door opens. Messy dark curls peek over her head in your vision and you know instantly who it is. Your heart starts pounding, loud and hard, and something heavy starts swirling deep in your gut. Your eyes lock as soon as he enters the room and an instinctive smile blooms on your face, knowing what's inevitably on its way. 

"Hey Sparky…" 

Your voice, slow and drawling (and, he'd be lying if he didn't say kind of very sexy) impales him as soon as he enters the room. He watches your pupils expand, eyes locked, immediately swept away by your magnetic aura. A fox like grin decorates your pretty face, and he gets the feeling you know more than you let on. Way more. He's so drawn to you on a guttural level, way more than he's ever been to someone before. His face is hot, and when you slowly wink at him, he feels flames erupt on his cheeks. It takes him a second to put it out, feeling your white hot gaze on him the entire time. 

Piper, who's been helping with your interrogation, looks back and forth between you two as this progresses, taking in a breath and mumbling a shocked, "Oh," as she begins to understand. 

"How are those repairs coming?" Jason asks, oblivious to everything that's happening between you two. 

"Uh… nearly done…" Leo mutters, watching as you hold back an elated giggle at the sound of his voice. You never forget how good it feels to see him again, but the fresh feeling is always better than you can imagine. Jason glances between you two, and walks over to Leo, suspicious of your interest in him. 

"I'll walk you back," Jason says, glaring at you. Your eyes stay locked with Leo's until the door finally closes again. Piper stares at you, bewildered by the tension turned to frantic energy crackling around both you and Leo. She can sense it on him even after he's out of the room. 

Annabeth finally drops your face, pacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Percy slams him hands down on the table and levels his face with yours. 

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. How do you know us?" 

You stare at the table for a second, still thinking about him. You have to see him again. You’ve waited for too long, you just can’t do it anymore. 

“H- okay. Um,” You blink a few times, facade falling away almost instantly as you look up in a silent prayer that this doesn’t go as badly as you feel like it will. You sigh, looking back up at the other people in the room, a new, deliberate intention in your eyes that they hadn’t seen before. 

“You want to know why I’m here?” 

Their answer is the silence that follows.

“You’re not gonna believe me.” They look around at each other, collectively thinking about everything they’ve been through in the last year alone.

“Try us.” Annabeth replies. You sigh again, and introduce yourself. “...I’m a child of Calliope, muse of epic poetry, and I know you all because we grew up together. One of the fun - quirks, I inherited from my mom is traveling into different stories, or realities, I guess. It’s hard to control, and sometimes happens involuntarily. I adapt to wherever I am, and the universe sort of auto adjusts to follow the rules that stories have to follow. 

The reason you don’t remember me is because I was gone for a really long time, and your story had to keep going. Trying to find me wouldn’t have moved the plot forward, questioning where I went would have been confusing, so it did the simplest thing and edited me out so you could get closer to meeting your objectives.”

Once again, their silence is your answer. 

“Guys, sidebar.” Annabeth says, pulling Percy, Jason, and Piper out of the room for a moment. The come back in a little while later, and she looks you dead in the eye.

“If you really know us as well as you say you do, prove it. Tell us you’d only know if we were as close as you say we were.” 

You sigh yet again, having lost count at how many times that’s happened today alone. You roll your shoulders and bob your head, irritable that you’re still restrained and itching to move. 

“Is there anything we can do before the whole tell me something really personal thing?” 

Percy looks at you, challenging.

“Can you do it or not?”

Another noise of exasperation leaves you, and you agree, resignation all over your face.

“You know what, yeah. Okay, we’re doing this. Someone go get Leo.” An involuntary smile once again launches onto your face at the mention of his name. Jason starts to object. 

“Hey, I’m not going to spill something personal about someone when they’re not in the room.” They agree reluctantly, and Jason leaves, returning again with Leo. You look at him again, enraptured by his presence. He can’t say he doesn’t like the attention - a hottie like you looking at him like that? Yes, please - but something about it feels different, and he gets the feeling there’s a lot more going on than they’re aware of. 

You nod your head once, indicating for him to come closer. He gets a little closer. You widen your eyes, nodding two more times, and he hesitantly gets within whispering distance. 

You turn your head to your left, dangerously close to his face. He can feel his pulse already speeding up. Heat radiates between your faces, your breath fanning over his neck as you whisper slowly,

“You really… really like holding hands, and when I pull your hair during sex.” 

He pulls away from you quickly, beet red, bewildered expression obvious to everyone in the room. “H-how-”

“How do you think?” You reply calmly, loving everything about him, “Okay, to be fair…” you nod once more, eyes flaring, and he leans in once again, equally hesitant and curious. Your words tickle his ear, seeming to light up his entire nervous system like a firecracker.

“I really really like when you bite that spot on my neck, just below my ear.” 

He pulls away again, trying not to literally and figuratively combust. He stares in your eyes intensely, searching for anything besides the truth. He finds absolutely nothing. He turns around, unable to look his friends in the eye. 

“They’re legit, guys.” 

“Wait, what did you say to him?” Piper asks, unsure if she wants to know the answer. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, “what if it’s some kind of mind control-” Your deep, burning desire to finally hold Leo after god knows how long is starting to beat your better judgement, and you really, really want to be untied from this stupid chair. “Annabeth! Your favorite show was Cyber Chase growing up, you used to come up with plans on how to defeat Hacker, your best was cutting off his food supply - good strategy, I’ve used it before, myself. 

Percy, you feel like you can’t sing because you were forced to participate in an elementary school recital and some kid called you tonedeaf behind your back, it kicked you right in the RSD balls. 

Piper, you’re a closet weeb, you watched Ouran High School Host club obsessively and still do sometimes, you fell for Jason because he had, quote, 'Tamaki's looks and Kyoya's brains, the ideal man'. 

Jason, that scar on your lip is from biting a stapler as a child-"

"Okay, everyone knows that-"

"-and," you continue, showing no signs of stopping, "the reason you ate the stapler is because you were pretending to be a trash compactor because you saw one on TV. 

Nico is totally not right outside the door keeping guard right now, but if he were and you asked him if he likes the diary of a wimpy kid movies he'll ask how the hell you know that - should I continue."

Again, the answers are in the silence hovering in the room. 

“I think it’s about time to catch me up on what I missed.” 

A beat passes.

“Right,” Annabeth says, blinking and readjusting her ponytail as she sits down across from you, Percy already taking the bindings off of your wrists, “so, about the quest…”

She starts to fill you in on the details you missed, bringing you up to speed. After a little while you all decide to call it a night. Piper senses your energy ramping up in spite of the exhaustion settling in. You finally bid them all good night, but Piper’s not sold by your forced yawns. After what feels like another lifetime, you finally leave the room you’ve been in for hours with one objective. 

You can’t stay away from him anymore, you have to find Leo. 

After navigating a maze of hallways and doors, you finally push open the right one to see him looking up at you, and find yourself saying for the second time tonight,

“Hey, Sparky…” 

His heart is racing, and he gets that heavy, full feeling in his chest again, not having fully shaken it from the last time you saw each other. Looking into your eyes makes him nostalgic for something he can’t quite remember, and he knows with full certainty that you have more history than he’s aware of. He wants more than anything in this moment to remember. He sets down the wrench in his hand, taking a step toward you.

“Hey…”

[bipercabeth]

48 for percabeth! I hope u feel better about the show

Annabeth has known that Percy was going to die from the moment she met him. Four summers. Best case scenario. 

Twelve-year-old Annabeth wasn’t particularly concerned about falling in love with the trouble-making son of Poseidon who drooled in his sleep. Freshly sixteen Annabeth sometimes wishes she had opted for the quiet life some children of Athena prefer: strategize, keep your head down, live a comfortable and unremarkable life. She hardly would’ve crossed paths with Percy outside of the occasional class or Capture the Flag. He and Grover could’ve found someone else to be their best friend, or maybe they would’ve bonded as a pair. And Annabeth would have kept her distance from Percy in the name of self-preservation, knowing they would only have four bittersweet summers together at best. 

The summer before the Titan War is not the best case scenario. Percy is hardly ever at camp except for quests and Kronos-related meetings. He chooses to spend what they both know is his last of their four measly summers away from Annabeth. Grover is nowhere to be found, Thalia is with the Hunters, Luke is hosting the Titan Lord, and Annabeth feels more like a scared little girl than she has in a long time. At least she isn’t the runaway. That title fell to Percy. 

It feels like an insult to Annabeth’s love for Percy to wish they hadn’t met. She is so much better for having loved him. For loving him—present tense. But she says this while he’s still here. His smile may not be directed at her that often, but he still smiles. Sometimes Annabeth can even stomach the jealousy of Rachel being the cause of that smile, because at least someone is giving him joy before this all goes to shit. When it does, maybe Annabeth will understand what it means to wish him away, if only to end the pain of having known and lost a person like Percy Jackson. 

The feeling isn’t new. Annabeth’s gut has twisted in previous conversations where someone would bring up high school and college plans. Percy would talk animatedly about getting his license at sixteen, and Annabeth was left with a dry mouth she could not twist into a smile. He would beam at Beckendorf’s plans to attend NYU in the fall and make the older boy promise to swing by Sally’s sometime. Even Beckendorf, who had never heard the full Great Prophecy, could not stop the microexpression of pity. 

When Annabeth first heard the prophecy, it was too much for her ten year old mind. There was no face to connect to the doomed fate, no cursed blade to reap the hero’s soul. Sometimes her young brain conjured an image of Thalia, but that was a nightmare of its own. Every night, Annabeth would watch Olympus fall at the hands of someone she hoped never to know. 

She still gets those nightmares, only the visuals have improved. Percy is in every single one of them, saving or razing Olympus depending on the night. He never survives. You cannot outrun fate. Annabeth has tried. 

Still, she is a daughter of Athena, and Athena always has a plan. When Percy dies, Annabeth will fall to pieces. In a lucky string of events, she might fall alongside him. It’s a war, after all. But she has a sneaking suspicion that she will outlive him. She has a plan for this as well. The shroud they made when he was stranded on Calypso’s island was nice and communal, leagues ahead of the one the Ares cabin shroud that still makes Annabeth’s blood boil. But deep in her soul, Annabeth knows that she alone will make his shroud. Just as she’ll burn it; just as she’ll care for Sally in his stead; just as she will lay blue roses on his headstone every time she’s in the neighborhood; just as she’ll be there for Grover, for Clarisse, for all of camp when he’s gone. She will do it alone. Annabeth held the sky, once. She will shoulder this as well. How much heavier could losing her best friend be than the weight of the world? In her anticipation, they feel the same. 

She will build a monument for him, something to last the ages as he was supposed to, as permanent as the love he has given her. It will overlook the gods on Olympus, a reminder of the boy they failed. The boy who was too good for them all. Regardless of how the war goes, this will always be true. 

He was never built to last. Nothing good ever can, and he’s been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. He was meant to burn bright, not long. 

Annabeth sits in the dark of the Big House rec room, the only quiet space now that camp is in full war preparation. Well, the only quiet space apart from the beach, but Annabeth knows the smell of salt air and the sound of waves will be her undoing. That is another key feature of her plan: never go to the ocean again. 

She curls her knees into her chest, feeling every inch the child that she is. But children are not supposed to have plans for their best friend dying. Children are not supposed to have their first kiss out of fear that said best friend will die before their four summers are up. 

The door opens, throwing the room into harsh shadows and blinding light. 

“Um.” Annabeth can’t see who’s talking, but she’d know his voice anywhere. “Chiron said there was a war council meeting today.” 

She raises a hand to block out the light and give her eyes time to adjust. “Yeah, later.” To Annabeth’s horror, her voice is hoarse. Her throat is clogged with tears. 

Percy’s sneakers stop shifting in the carpet. “Are, uh... are you okay?” 

He sounds hesitant to ask, like he’s expecting vitriol to spew from Annabeth’s mouth. And, in fairness, sometimes it does. But Annabeth doesn’t have vitriol in her right now. The awareness that she does not have many days left with Percy is painfully acute. To spend them angry feels like a waste. 

“No, I’m not.” By now her eyes have adjusted to the light, and she looks at him through bleary eyes. 

Percy stills when he sees her face, looking ready to bolt. He points to the door. “Do you want me to...?”

Annabeth sniffles. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

What breaks her is how quickly he is by her side. For all their faults, it is the one thing she can count on. As long as she lets him, Percy will come to Annabeth when she’s hurting.

She doesn’t tell him how deeply that statement is carved into her, that she is carved from loneliness the same way he is carved from guilt—the pitfalls of pride and loyalty. 

A kid carved from loneliness cannot plan to be held the way that Percy holds Annabeth. Such a selfless love was unfathomable as a little girl; how could she ever have accounted for it? He just... holds her. He doesn’t try to talk or look at her face. He’s just there, unwaveringly. It kills Annabeth to know he won’t always be. It hurts to be with him, but it will hurt so much more to be without him. 

The dam breaks, and Annabeth sobs into Percy’s shoulder. He’s taller than her now, grown only to be cut down young. Still, he is steadfast, grounded, secure in his roots. The way a towering oak has no reason to fear a chainsaw until the cutting has already begun. 

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, because she’s not sure she’s ever said it and it’s something he deserves to hear. “No matter what, you’re my best friend.” 

Percy strokes a gentle hand along the back of Annabeth’s head. “And you’re mine,” he assures her. He doesn’t say you’re my best friend too. Just you’re mine. As if the fact doesn’t haunt her. She is his, irrevocably. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts them. Annabeth recognizes Silena’s quiet footfalls and almost withdraws from Percy, but he makes no move to. 

Silena’s voice is soft, not smug like Annabeth expects. “War council in fifteen. Figured I’d give you two a heads up.” 

Annabeth meets her eyes over Percy’s shoulder. “Thanks.” 

The older girl ducks her head in something resembling shame. “It’s the least I can do.” She leaves. 

“How much longer?” Percy asks when the door clicks shut. It isn’t an impatient question. In fact, Annabeth doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. 

She gives an honest answer. “However long we have left.” And the sun begins to set on the fourth summer. 

[joezworld]

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well: 

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

 BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.  

 Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing. 

 Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.  

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.  

 In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.  

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal  electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)  

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.) 

 As for other internet uses... 

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it. 

 James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened! 

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement! 

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver  ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.  

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for! 

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.  

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.  

 The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.  

 The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.  

 That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her... 

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

 So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself! 

 “On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”. 

 Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.  

 By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK. 

[phykios]

volcano kiss scene but make it medieval, for @perseannabeth 💙 note that this is little more than a fancy rewrite, but... marble king verse is too good to be done with completely

***🌊***🌊***🌊***

June, 1446

As Percy led his little band of adventurers through the tunnels of the Labyrinth, himself, his questing partner Ana Zabeta, his childhood companion Aegidius, and his half-brother, the cyclops Tison, following a marvelously clever creation of the god of fire, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel a small sense of pride. They had finally located a deity who not only did not appear to have any negative designs on their characters, but had also promised them his help--after they had performed him a small favor, of course. 

Hephaestus had fashioned for them a little spider made of metal, who moved about as though it had a beating heart, darting this way and that, nearly invisible, were it not for their torchlight flickering off its shiny, shiny legs. Though he would never speak it aloud, Percy felt a particular kind of pride on Annabeth’s behalf, as she followed the eight-legged creature with neither complaint nor fear. He knew full well just how totally she detested the beasts, her eternal and forsworn enemies, just as their mother had been an enemy of Athena. 

They rounded a corner, moving from a passageway lined with a strange, shiny substance which felt cool to the touch to one of crudely-cut stone, when he spotted a tunnel off to the side, dug from raw earth, wrapped in thick roots which pried their way through the holes in the stones. Aegidius had noticed it as well, slowing his pace until he stopped entirely in front of the dark, gaping maw in the wall. “Aegidius,” Percy said, stopping as well. “What is it?”

It was as if he had not heard him. The satyr merely gazed into the black tunnel, his curly hair rustling in an impossible breeze.

“We cannot delay!” said Annabeth. “We must keep moving!”

“This is the way,” Aegidius muttered, hushed and reverent. “It is here.”

He couldn’t possibly mean… “The way to Pan?”

But Aegidius ignored him, turning instead to Tison, the creature whose very nature often rendered him speechless with fear. “Do you not smell it, too?”

“Yes,” said Tison. “Earth. The forest.”

Before them, the spider skittered further down the stone corridor. If they delayed any further, the trail would be lost to them. 

“Once we have finished our errand for Hephaestus,” said Annabeth, “then we can return for Pan, I swear it.”

“The tunnel will have gone by then,” said Aegidius, with a confidence Percy had rarely seen before. “A door such as this will not remain open for long--and I must enter it.”

“But,” she said, desperate, “the forges!”

He looked at her sadly, but firmly. “I cannot go with you this time, Annabeth.”

Percy had forgotten--Aegidius was not only his companion. He had been Annabeth’s as well. He had been responsible for seeing her safely over the magical boundary in Sigeion. But the spider was nearly out of sight, and they could not tarry any longer before the gateway to the god. “We will continue to the forges,” he decided. “Aegidius, you go on to seek Pan.”

“No!” she gasped. “It is far too dangerous. If we part ways, we might never find each other again! And I cannot let you go alone.”

It was then that Tison, gentle creature he was, put his hand on Aegidius’ shoulder. As much fear as satyrs held for cyclops, Tison, for some odd reason, held just as much, if not more, for the satyrs. They had made an amusing pair at times, two of the sweetest, kindest people Percy had ever known, cowering in fear at the other. But Tison showed no fear now. Now, he was brave. “I shall go with him.”

Percy could not believe his ears. “You will?”

He nodded. “The satyr needs help. We shall find the god of the wild--together.”

Aegidius took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish I could see this through to the end with you, but--”

“I understand,” said Percy. The search for Pan was his life’s goal, the final prize in a quest which had taken his father, his father’s father, and so many searchers before him. If he did not succeed on this journey, the Council of Cloven Elders would never give him another chance. “I pray that you are right.”

Shoulders square, suddenly possessed of a confidence Percy had rarely ever seen from him, save for when he deliberated on how keftedes paled in comparison to spanakopita, he grinned. “I know that I am.”

Percy took a heartbeat to gaze on him one last time, imprinting him in his memory--just in case. “Be careful,” he told him. Then, he looked towards Tison, and opened his arms to his half-brother, who went into them willingly, squeezing Percy so strongly his eyes just about burst from his sockets. 

Tison and Aegidius then disappeared into the darkness of the tree roots, lost to the wild. 

“This was a mistake,” said Annabeth, her voice trembling. “We should not have let them go.”

“We will see them again,” Percy replied, attempting to summon Aegidius’ confidence. “Now, come on. The spider will not wait for us any longer.”

“Do not remind me,” she said, shuddering.

Before very long, the tunnel grew warmer, the stone walls red and glowing. The air felt as though they were walking through a giant oven, as though they had been transported into one of the forges beneath the villa for Hephaestus’ children, and he supposed, in a way, that they had. The tunnel sloped down, deeper into the earth, the spider nearly tripping over itself to reach the bottom, Annabeth right behind it.

Percy jogged to catch up. “Annabeth!” he called. “A moment?”

She glanced back at him, but did not cease her quick pace, forcing Percy to match her. “Yes?”

“I have a… question,” he panted, “regarding what Hephaestus… said, about your mother.” 

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said, easily. Curses, Annabeth did not appear to be even remotely out of breath. He felt like such a fool compared to her, always. “She is one of the maiden goddesses, alongside Artemis and Hestia.”

Percy frowned. He had not recalled that detail about the war goddess--though, he was rather infamous for nodding off during lessons. Perhaps he had simply slept through that particular lesson. “But, if she is a maiden goddess, then--”

“How is it she came to have demigod children?”

Blushing, he nodded. 

Now, this was not at all appropriate conversation, he knew. Young boys and girls were not meant to discuss such things with each other--not yet anyway. But Percy was nearly a man, and besides, he had spent enough time with Carlos and the older boys at the agoge to pick up a few pieces of knowledge here or there. Hopefully, Annabeth would think the flush on his cheeks was due to the heat of the cavern. 

“Do you know how Athena was born?” she asked him. 

“She was born from… the head of Zeus? In armor?”

“Precisely. She was literally born from his thoughts--and thus, her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal partner, it is a purely intellectual affair, just as it was with Odysseus in the epic tales. Our mother says that it is the truest kind of love.”

“So,” said Percy, frowning. “Your father and Athena… you were not--”

“I was born from their minds,” she interrupted, quickly. “Sprung from the divine thoughts of my mother and the mortal ingenuity of my father. Her children are gifts, blessings on the mortals she favors.”

“But--”

She turned to him, exasperated. “Percy, the spider has nearly vanished. Do you really wish for me to explain the precise details of my birth?”

Flushing even harder, he snapped his jaw shut.

Victorious again, she smirked. “I thought not.”

Running ahead to catch their guide, Percy followed, very neatly put in his place, and not certain he would ever be able to look at his friend the same way ever again. Some things, he decided, were perhaps better left as mysteries.

After another few minutes or so, they emerged into a cavern, larger than any stadium Percy had ever seen. It felt to be five times the size of the mighty Colosseum. There was no floor, just miles of bubbling lava beneath their feet. Standing on a rock ride which encircled the cavern, Percy saw a complex, overlapping network of metal bridges spanning the width of it, meeting on a huge platform in the center which housed the largest anvil he had ever seen, a block of iron the size of a villa. Dark, strange shapes moved about them, like formless shadows, too far away to discern what manner of creature they might be. 

“We cannot sneak up on them,” said Percy, noting the distinct lack of places to hide with some despair. 

With a slight grimace, Annabeth picked up their metal guide, its form having changed to a small ball, and slipped it into a fold in her dress. “I can. Wait here.”

“Hang on--” But Percy was too late, as Annabeth put on her magical cap, a gift from her mother, and vanished from his sight. 

Percy cursed. He did not dare call after her, not willing to draw attention to her tactics, but nor did he appreciate the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If those creatures could repel the likes of Hephaestus, what hope did Annabeth have? It was not safe. She was their leader--they could not risk her life. Percy would not risk her life. 

Alas, he could never sit still for very long. Creeping along the outer rim of the lake of molten rock, he darted from stalagmite to stalagmite as best he could, hoping to find a better vantage point. Really, Annabeth should have known better.

The heat was horrendous, heavy and oppressive. Drenched in sweat, and eyes stinging with smoke, he moved along, staying as far from the edge as was physically possible, until he found his way stopped by a large metal box, fitted on wheels. Peering inside, he saw it was full scrapped metal, bits and bobs of broken swords and lumpy shields, piled on top of one another. Nothing he could reasonably use for an extra weapon, or even some kind of defense. Making to squeeze himself around it, he suddenly heard from up ahead a voice, rough and grating, speaking an ancient language which no man alive had heard for a thousand years. 

Monsters, he knew. 

There was no time to run away, no place to hide… except for the box. Leaping inside, covering himself with a dented aspis, he curled his fingers around his father’s sword, that blade Anaklusmos, hissing as the sharp metal of his bed cut between the soft parts of his armor, biting his tongue so no curse could escape. 

With any luck, the monsters would pass him by, and he could continue along unmolested. 

That was when, of course, that the box lurched forward, pushed along by the monsters, carrying Percy along with it. Malaka! Was he about to be tipped into a smelting pot?

All around him, he heard the chatter of terrible beasts. He was not so skilled in the ancient tongue as Annabeth, but even he could recognize a few words here or there, “weapon” and “cyclopes” and “furnace,” and some names as well: Zena, hissed with scorn, Posidaota, spat with bile, and, most chillingly of all, Kronos, spoken with reverence and awe.

Percy blinked against the sudden light as his cover was removed from his person, revealing himself to the monster, who was so taken aback by his presence, that it blinked back at him in return. For a few moments, neither of them moved, so shocked were they by the other’s sudden appearance. Then, springing into action, Percy slashed upwards, dissolving the beast in a cloud of golden smoke. Snatching up another shield and leaping from his bed of spikes, he saw with his preternatural vision a small army of at least twenty monsters, black like dogs, but with sleek, shiny skin, and legs which looked to be more suited for swimming than scrambling around the rocks of Aitne.

With a hearty battle-cry and another wide swipe, he repelled the front row of these creatures, carving himself some space to jump, sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel. The monsters followed after him, baying and growling as a pack of ravenous wolves, and they would have caught him, tearing him to pieces, had they been but a little bit faster. Thinking quickly, at the top of the tunnel, Percy hurled his shield into a column, the rocks crumbling upon impact, burying the monsters and blocking off the path with a great, noisy cave-in. 

He doubted it would keep them trapped for very long. Not only that, he very much doubted that they had been the only monsters in the cavern. Percy had just announced his presence to anyone who might have been listening, destroying their chance for any sort of subtle reconnaissance.

And Annabeth was still out there, somewhere, invisible.

“Annabeth!” He yelled, running towards the platform at the center of the ocean of lava. “Annabe--!”

An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, wrestling him down behind a large, bronze cauldron. “Silence! Do you mean to have us killed?”

Arms flailing, he managed to locate her head, slipping off her cap of invisibility. She shimmered into view as an island emerging from the mist, scowling and covered in ash and grime. “It’s far too late for that,” he said, grimly. “I came upon a group of monsters, and brought the roof crashing down on them.”

Hissing curses, her hands clenched, as though she meant to strangle him, before she visibly managed to control her temper. “You said there were monsters?”

He nodded. “I know not what kind. I had thought they may have been dogs, were it not for their flippered feet and human hands, adorned with claws. They spoke of furnaces and weapons, making arms for the first Titanomachy.”

“Telkhines,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Of course! I should have known. I had wondered when I saw… well, look.” 

Together they peered over the lip of the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four of these demons, larger than any Percy had seen before, standing at least the size of a fully grown man. Their black, scaly skin glistened in the light of the fire as they labored, sparks flying between mighty hammer strikes on a long piece of glowing, hot metal, hissing to each other in the ancient language. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her. If he could not understand them, Annabeth surely would. 

“They are talking of fusing metals,” she said, frowning. “Other than that, I--I cannot say.”

“Is that bad?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “The telkhines betrayed the gods,” she said, “for practicing dark magics. For their transgressions, Zeus banished them to Tartaros.”

“Alongside Kronos.”

She nodded. “We must return to Hephaestus at once--”

But no sooner had she spoken than a sharp, clawed hand pierced its way through the rubble of Percy’s cave-in, pushing aside the rocks which blocked its path, followed closely by its snout, teeth long and sharp and dripping with saliva. “You must return to the god,” Percy said, moving into a crouch. “Leave me here.”

“What?” she shrieked. “No! I will not leave you!”

At any other time, he would have praised her for her courage, but not now. “You must! Let me distract the monsters, and perhaps the spider can lead you back through the Labyrinth. You are the leader of this quest--you must take the message back to Hephaestus.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face her. “As well, there is no other choice.”

She glared at him, her lips pulled back almost in a snarl worthy of one of the monsters. He knew this look of hers well--it was the one she wore whenever she considered hitting him for his foolishness. 

But rather than hit him, she did something which shocked him even more.

She grasped the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and kissed him. “Be careful, phykios,” she murmured against his lips, breath hot. Then she put on her cap, and vanished. 

Percy couldn’t breathe, and not for the smoke. Had it not been for the lava, the monsters, the weapon, the quest, he would have been quite content to sit there all day, thinking of nothing but the softness of her mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, unable to even recall his own name. 

A sea demon screamed, jolting him back into reality. 

The horde of monsters, freed from their prison, charged across the bridge towards him. Percy scrambled up from the ground, running for the middle of the platform, startling the large monsters so thoroughly that they dropped the red-hot blade over which they labored. It was as long as they were tall, curved like a crescent moon, its shape burning into his vision, sending shivers down his spine. 

Unfortunately for Percy, the monsters recovered quickly from their shock. Every which way he turned, his exit was blocked by a small army, surrounding him. Cutting him off. 

Raising Anaklusmos, he prayed that they could not see the blade shaking. 

“Son of Poseidon,” rasped a demon, speaking Percy’s own language now. “We are honored by your visit, fish-blood.” 

He spread his senses, casting about for an escape, but there was none. He was trapped. 

“Will you strike us down, half-blood?” asked another one. “An you try, the rest of us shall tear you to shreds.” Licking its lips, it advanced on him, claws glinting in the glow of the forge. “Perhaps we shall deliver you to your father in pieces--an omen of the horror we shall visit upon him, and all the rest of the twelve, for their betrayal.”

Annabeth would not have allowed herself to be cornered this way, but Percy was no strategist. If the gods favored him at all, they would have seen to Annabeth’s escape, leaving him to his doom. 

Was this to be his doom, he wondered? Trapped in the heart of a volcano, overrun by monsters which would use his bones to pick their teeth? 

The tallest of the demons plunged its hand into the furnace, scooping a handful of molten rock. “Let us see the might of Olympus,” it said, grinning. “Let us see how long it takes him to burn!” And it threw the lava at Percy.

Dropping his sword, he swatted at his clothes which had been set alight, as though he had merely had an unfortunate run-in with the lava trap at the agoge, but it was not nearly enough, the fire engulfing him with each passing second. At first, oddly, it had only felt warm, though it grew hotter and hotter with every heartbeat. 

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one monster sneered. “Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, fish-blood. Not impossible.”

Later, Percy would struggle to remember the particulars. He would recall only the fire, and the pain. He would not remember how he crumpled to the floor in deepest agony, the sea demons howling in delight at his terror. 

Nor would he remember the voice of the naiad at the farm of the giant Geryon. The water is within me, she had said. 

Between waves of torment, there was a tugging sensation in his gut, calling vainly for water where there was none: not a river, nor a stream, nor even a petrified seashell. Percy called for the sea, the towering waves which could wash away villages, the currents which could destroy ships in a single blow, the endless power of the ocean, and he called for these things inside of himself, letting it loose in one terrible, horrible scream.

Fire and water collided, a typhoon of unearthly power shooting him up from the beating heart of Aitne on wings of superheated steam, peeling his skin away, another piece of flotsam flung from the earth by the force of the blast. Higher and higher he flew, further than Icarus, than Bellerophon, than Zeus himself, so high that the lord of the heavens would not be able to reach him--and then he fell, a shooting star, hurtling towards the sea which would not save him. Not this time.

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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

Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

[xbaepsae]

the ebb and flow | part eight

“Of course, in your final moments of life, only he would occupy your thoughts.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.1k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, near-death experience, vulnerability 

a/n: oof. sorry this chapter took so long to get out. hope you all enjoy it anyway! xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer – in which he saves you

For as long as you can remember, you’ve never been too fond of water.

The first time you stepped foot into a big body of water—also known as, the community pool a few blocks away from your childhood home—you cried. For some reason, a lot of water terrified you. You tried taking lessons once, but your instructor couldn’t even get you to step within five feet of the pool.

And your father never forced you to go back.

Over the years, you’ve tried to lessen the fear. And for the most part, you’re not scared of water anymore. You can sit in pools and be on the beach just fine. The only thing is, you still haven’t learned how to swim.

It’s like your body is just incapable of doing so.

There are only a select number of people who know you can’t swim—Namjoon and Haru, to name a few. Which is why they tried to talk you out of doing the canoe races. The weather is always unpredictable, as you never know what the gods are bickering about. And your friends were right: something bad was bound to happen, which is why you should’ve listened to them earlier.

But your stupid ego always seems to be in the way.

As you sink further down into the depth of the water, fear and anxiety begin to fill your veins. Is this really how you’re going to die? Being a demigod means life isn’t certain because danger always lurks in the smallest of places; however, drowning has never been on your list of possible causes.

What a way to out of this world, y/n.

You could already see Charon waiting for you on that boat of his, ready to take you across the river and into the Underworld. A part of you wondered if he’d laugh at you—laugh at the pitiful way you died. Then again, you’ve heard enough stories to know his expression always remained stoic.

Maybe you’ll even end up in Elysium, though you’re not sure you’ve done enough good in the world to deserve a place there. All you’ve been concerned with these last few years is how to get Jeongguk back.

Jeongguk.

Of course, in your final moments of life, only he would occupy your thoughts. How rude and inconsiderate of him. You should be thinking about your sweet friends or your father—but no, the only thing you can see is Jeon Jeongguk’s stupid face in your mind.

Still, you do find it a bit ironic now; you’re terrified of water—literally drowning at the moment—and he’s the son of the sea god.

Life sure does work in mysterious ways.

***

Jeongguk’s POV

All the screaming makes him turn around.

Jeongguk takes a glance behind him, where Athena’s canoe wades only a few feet away. Most demigods feared weather like this—the wild winds and restless waters only promised destruction. But it doesn’t bother him.

This is his father’s domain and Jeongguk feels at ease.

Until he counts the members of Athena’s canoe and realizes that one person is missing—more specifically, you. For the first time in a while, he actually feels his chest tighten in fear. Where did you go? There isn’t anywhere to go—not for miles. Except—

“Oh my god, she can’t swim!”

One of the younger campers on your canoe screams this, and Jeongguk feels something hot settle in his stomach. Without a second thought, he dives into the water.

It doesn’t take him long to spot you, and it seems your half-sibling was right—you really can’t swim. As odd as that sounds to his ears, he swims to you anyway. At the sight of your closed eyes and limp body, a weird sensation tugs at his heart. Why do you have to look so damn vulnerable right now?

Jeongguk realizes then that he’d rather take your fire—the way you’re always challenging him and the anger you possessed—over this frail girl any day.

He wraps his arms around your frame easily, pulling you back to the surface without much difficulty. Lifting you into the canoe, he watches as your half-siblings rush to you. After they take one look at your pale complexion, one bursts into tears while the others rush to perform CPR.

For once, Jeongguk feels useless as he moves back into his own canoe that has pulled up beside Athena’s.

“That was impressive.”

Turning, Jeongguk notices another canoe has pulled up—probably wondering what all the commotion was. His eyes settle on the voice, and he tries not to roll his eyes. But when it concerns the son of Hades, he often cannot help himself.

“Don’t start getting any ideas, Min,” he scowls.

Yoongi has the audacity to smirk. “You said it, not me.”

“I did what any person would do.” Jeongguk doesn’t know why he’s being so defensive. He’s never this defensive.

“Right,” Yoongi hums. “Because saving your sworn rival is totally normal.”

Jeongguk wants nothing more than to rub that stupid look on Yoongi’s face away. Just because he is amicable with the son of Hades—a fellow demigod of the Big Three, and therefore someone he could relate to—it doesn’t mean he isn’t opposed to inflicting a hint of damage. Though, before he can do such a thing, there’s a coughing fit coming from Athena’s cabin.

Relief fills him at the sight of you coughing up water. That’s a good sign. You’re going to be okay.

“Let’s get her to the infirmary,” someone says, and Jeongguk watches as your cabin rushes back to shore.

The rest of the canoes soon follow; even though the weather is starting to clear up, and the winds aren’t as brisk anymore, there’s no point in continuing the races now. Not after what everyone just witnessed.

Once they’re back on shore, Jeongguk jumps out of the canoe and his feet seem to move on their own accord—towards the Big House. Towards the infirmary. What? He shakes his head and decides to go in the opposite direction.

“I saw that slight hesitation, Jeon.”

Jeongguk looks behind him, where Yoongi casually gives him a look. He realizes that Yoongi really seems to be getting a kick out of tormenting him today.

“You saw nothing,” he says, turning back around and towards the cabins instead.

Yoongi moves to match his pace, and Jeongguk looks down at the boy donned in all-black. He has no clue why the dress code doesn’t apply to the son of Hades. “Keep telling yourself that. Denial is normal.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi laughs. “I guess we’ll just have to see how this unfolds, don’t we?”