#the dyslexia hit hard

[treahollow]

Finally decided to make a bit of a ref sheet for the riptide goobers bc I keep changing their designs every time I draw them. These are for post ep 87 btw, designs for before then will come in the near future (maybe).

Back sketches and alternative versions of the designs under cut (contains spoilers up to ep 115)

I also give you badly drawn Pretzel

[cryptidteaparty]

Tfw you can understand gothic lit but not a one sentence Tumblr post 😭😭😭😭😭

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

For someone with a special interest in language and multiple language hyperfixations, boy I sure am bad at languaging

[ainawgsdrandom]

Wow, I'm tired today! I read this as "this is what it feels like to write 3 paragraphs without shoplifting."

[cryptidmickle]

May we pretty please have some Wholesome Shadow Milk Amninsa au?

(sorry for spelling errors, my dyslexia hitting me hard today)

not wholesome but silly? a bit in the future of where the au is currently

shadow milk and white lily cookie have some Issues in "getting along", but its silly

[mattykay]

Please? - Rodrick Heffley x Ftm Reader

This is heavily based of my cai bot I made. Hope you like it.

Features: sub!reader, dom!Rodrick, light spanking, degrading + praise, p in v, use of 'boypussy' used, stoner (implied) reader, weed, and very very horny Rodrick.

All Rodrick wanted was to keep his van. But due to his lack of focus and dyslexia, it was hard to have good enough grades to keep it.

Frank and Susan suggest Rodrick find a tutor, or find another way.

He tried cheating, getting answers from his friends, paying other kids to do his tests, none of it worked.

So when he begrugingly asked you an honors english student for tutoring, it was a bit out of left field. But because of the decent amount of money he offered you couldn't find it in you to turn it down.

So you began tutoring him at his house, Tuesdays and Thursdays, 3:45 to 5:00. Dear god did he hate it.

He never disliked you, but your carefree attitude irked him to no end. Sure, Rodrick was lazy and liked that you weren't a hard ass about anything, but the fact that everything came to you easily pissed him off.

He looked over to you from where he laid, sprawled out on the old wood floors of his messy bedroom. His brows then furrowed as he looked at one of the words on your computer screen, the letters jumbling as he tried to focus.

"What does that word say?" He asked with a huff. You turned to the screen. "Basically." You said, making sure not to treat him like he was stupid. Rodrick cocked a brow, his lips forming a light annoyed frown. "Basically what?" He asked, twirling the beaten yellow pencil in his fingers. You chuckled at his agitation. "The word is basically, Rodrick." This made him scoff, but as his eyes fell on your lazy smile he felt himself smile too.

Rodrick was like every horny teenager, "Can we take a break?" He asked smugly. After getting a nod from you he tilted his head. "Let me hit your cart?" The dark haired boy asked. "Absolutely not." You shot back nearly instantly. Rodrick pouted, "Cmon.. please?" He asked, trying his best puppy dog eyes.

You shook your head, taking a light hit from your cart. You smirked as you watched his nose scrunch with want. He inhaled the light sent of weed and whatever flavoring your cartridge had inside. His eyes lit up. You could see the gears turn in his head. He wanted weed, and he wanted you. He knew how to get both.

So the next hit you took, before you could exhale his lips were on yours. You felt his tongue make its way in your lips to battle with yours. Your hands tangled in his shaggy hair nearly instantly and his fingertips dug into your hips.

Before you knew what was happening you felt Rodricks lean arms push you to your feet. He barely broke the heated kiss to do so. Rodrick laid you out on his bed, feeling his plush mattress move beneath the two of you. His lips began to suck and bite at your neck, relishing in the pathetic noises that left your lips.

Rodrick began to unbutton your pants without even thinking to ask. You felt your core ache shamefully.

When he got your pants and boxers off, leaving you in your shirt he gazed down at your dripping pussy. A shit-eating grin came across his face.

"Been wanting this, huh?" He cooed, one hand gripping your thigh. You could feel every bump and callous on his hand. His other hand stroked lightly up and down your dripping heat. "Dirty little slut." He said harshly despite his smile. "You're lucky I've been dying to taste some boypussy." Rodrick purred, licking your slick from his fingers.

You ached, bucking your hips up at him. "Rodrick, please." You begged so pathetically. Rodrick was the last person you'd ever imagine wanting. Not to mention begging for.

He chuckled in a way that made you clench your pussys walls. "Only because you're begging like a good boy." He said, rubbing circles on your clit. He rid himself of his shirt and pants, slipping his cock out of his boxers. You felt like drooling.

Even more so when he pushed himself inside you, not even bothering to tell you or be nice about it. He gave you a few thrusts like that before flipping you over, fucking you deeply from the back. "Fuck- You fucking slut.." He hissed and he buried himself deep inside you. "Couldn't even bother to ask to suck my cock? You're pathetic." Rodrick spat through his labored breath, reaching forward to grab your hair, spanking you quickly with his free hand.

His face lit up as he felt you clench around his length when his hand met the meat of your ass. "Yeah? You fuckin' like that?" He laughed as he spanked again. You whimpered, feeling your orgasm build as his hand moved from your ass to your clit. His nimble fingers toyed with the sensitive bud. "Rodrick-! I-I'm-"

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up and take it." He said, burying himself deeper inside you than you thought anyone ever could. "Take my cock like a good boy. Cum f'me baby." He said, speaking a little sweeter now.

It drove you to the edge. You felt your walls clench around him. "Yeah.. Yeah- Such a good boy.." He groaned into your ear as you felt his hot seed cover your walls.

Rodrick pulled out, laying down next to you. He gently wiped excess cum from your thighs. "I think I like our sessions a little more now." He said, a surprisingly sweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

-

This was my first fic, I hope you enjoy it.

[w3atherboy]

Ah... AH

I kinda read it in a rush sorry

@jillconstantinw

oh my fucking god. now *you* know too? great.

What did I do???

[adddddiiii]

Hi there! Hope all is well. I love your grayson fanfiction. I read you autistic fic...and I was wondering if you could write one on dyslexia. I have it and it was I struggled as a child and one of the reasons i got bullied in school. Hope you have a great day. Thank you!

Fine Print

Author's Note: thanks for requesting!

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x dyslexic!reader

You had spent most of your life fighting against the words on the page.

Letters flipped, sentences blurred, and no matter how hard you tried, reading had never come easily to you. It was something you learned to work around, a challenge you met with determination, but the struggle had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for someone to notice.

And, unfortunately, people always noticed.

Teachers with exasperated sighs. Peers who turned whispered jokes into outright cruelty. The kind of bullying that made you dread classroom reading assignments, that made your stomach churn whenever someone handed you a textbook and expected you to just read it.

You had learned to hide it well, to adapt, to overcompensate. And it had worked. Mostly.

Then you met Grayson Hawthorne.

Grayson, with his perfectly organized notes and mind like a steel trap, who read faster than anyone you’d ever met. Who could scan through entire legal documents in minutes and recall every single clause. Who made it all look so effortless.

And now, as you sat across from him in the library, staring at the open file between you, you wondered if maybe this had been a mistake.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. “That’s not like you.”

You forced a smirk. “Maybe I just don’t feel like destroying you in an argument today.”

Grayson hummed, unconvinced. “Or maybe,” he said, tapping the page with his pen, “you haven’t actually read the documents yet.”

Your stomach clenched.

Of course he noticed. He always noticed.

You exhaled through your nose, pretending to stretch as you tilted your head toward the file. “I’m getting to it.”

Grayson’s gaze lingered for a second too long before he leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips pressed together, and for a moment, you thought he’d let it go. But Grayson Hawthorne was relentless.

“You avoid reading out loud,” he said carefully, like he was laying out evidence in a case. “You never skim through texts the way I do. You don’t write down notes in real-time — you listen, then summarize in your own words later.” He paused. “You memorize everything instead of reading it.”

Your pulse was in your throat. “Grayson-”

“You have dyslexia.”

It wasn’t a question. Your breath hitched, and you hated how exposed you felt.

For years, you had kept this part of yourself hidden, terrified that if people really knew, they would see you the way your classmates once had. As less. As stupid. As not enough.

But Grayson’s expression didn’t hold pity.

He just looked at you like it didn't matter. Like he understood.

You let out a slow breath and your fingers tightened around the edge of your notebook. “Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter than you wanted it to be. “I do.”

Grayson nodded once, like he had already known, like he had just been waiting for you to say it.

And then, without hesitation, he slid the file toward himself. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He picked up his pen, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. “You take notes the way you always do. I’ll read to you.”

Your throat tightened. “Grayson, you don’t have to-"

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, leveling you with that infuriatingly steady gaze. “But I want to.”

It was so simple. So casual. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like your dyslexia weren’t a big deal.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I won’t let you make this a habit.”

Grayson smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

[ninaslittlewickedplace]

I’ve been seeing some people talk (saw a comment somewhere by @feldspursfiyero ) about Fiyero’s behavior and choices, in particular how his depression and love for animals tie into one another and what his potential backstory is. I have a few things in mind that I’ll jot down here since I haven’t seen too many posts out there about Fiyero’s life before Wicked.

To start, it is obvious that Fiyero is a prince and the heir to the throne. From what we know in real life, being the Crown Prince was never an easy role. Though, I do find it interesting that Fiyero’s choice to act out is more along the lines of the behavior of a modern spare (Margaret, Harry etc) whose life feels directionless in the shadow of their older sibling’s glory. Historically and realistically, the heirs have been relatively good at containing their feelings and attitudes towards their position, but for Fiyero I think there are more layers to why he, the eldest child and the heir, has the personality traits that he has.

More under the cut because I don’t wanna clog the feed. This became longer than I thought 🙃

I do believe there was a time where Fiyero was able to be himself and allow himself to be loved and seen. Being a Prince, his life was dictated by strict protocol and rules by default, but there was once a time where he could breathe and let loose. That’s why he still has the innate ability to know and feel himself deep down, but events in his life have taught him to hide them.

From the Shiz Gazette online (and the books), we know his parents are Baxiana of Upper Fanarra and Marilott, Chieftan of the Arjikis. In my headcanon, his mother is the queen regent, the royal one and his father is the Ozian equivalent of a nobleman. He has a younger sister four years his junior named Arrietta with whom he is very close (she’s my OC).

Having not been raised in the rigid royal structure, Marilott taught his children that there was more to life than rules and appearances. Even if he couldn’t shelter them from their position, he made sure that they got to experience a taste of more “normal” things. Even if Baxiana saw them as her successors, Marilott saw them as his children. Most, if not all, of Fiyero’s happiest memories involved his father.

His death hit Fiyero very hard and is the main catalyst to his evolution into the man we see in Wicked. With him died the carefree boy Fiyero once was. Being fourteen, it came right around the time where he was expected to formally begin to prepare for royal duties and his mother was very strict with him. She had no patience with his slower progression in his studies (which I headcanon to be a combo of dyslexia and adhd) and implemented a stricter study regime, which inadvertently made it worse. He began to develop feelings of inadequacy and low self esteem about his abilities to be a ruler and began to yearn for his mother’s approval. Even if there were times where she was satisfied, she didn’t outwardly show it. Why would she, when royals weren’t expected to show emotion? Every social interaction was a transaction, one where nobody cared about anything but a satisfying end result.

Feeling trapped by his mother, his destiny, and his internal turmoil, Fiyero began to act out. Having partaken in an increasing amount of public events, he became aware that his people were enamored by him. Everytime he ventured beyond the castle walls, he would find crowds of people his age following his every step, listening to his every word. If he could garner attention simply by existing, maybe he could gain their respect by giving something to admire. After all, who could resist being royalty AND being cool?

The Winkie Prince was seen at almost every night club in Winkie Country and Oz, dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor, winning the heart of every lucky Ozian to be graced by his presence. Every time he was expelled from university, angry students would petition the board to revoke their decision. When they didn’t, his classmates would gather and bide him tearful farewells. The expulsions didn’t both him one bit because wherever he went and wherever he would end up next, he would have an admiring crowd that he could entertain with abandon. That is, until he meets a special girl at Shiz…

Now here is where the real Fiyero fits in as well as the Animals. Yes, things may have been bleak for him, but there were only two places he felt the most safe: Arrietta and the Animal staff at the castle.

Despite his facade being so convincing that even Fiyero himself forgot it wasn’t real, there were times where his old emotions would bubble to the surface. When he was younger, he would burst into tears and as he grew, he would sulk in his hiding spots throughout the castle. Of course, his sister would find him and the two would often sit together, some times in silence and other times, listening to eachother’s woes. She was the only human after their father’s death who loved him for who he was and she was the only person he could be himself with. She had similar worries, but instead of acting out, she turned inward and grew to be an intelligent but shy young woman. She never told him this to make Fiyero more worried than he already was, but she secretly wanted her “old” brother back. The carefree boy who would tease her until she cried, joked until she laughed, and tell stories until she fell asleep.

His other source of comfort, the Animals, are the reason many years later, Fiyero stands up to the injustice against them. The Winkies were known for their deeper connection with nature and Animals, which is why they are so prominent in culture, politics, and trade in their country. The royal family was no different and many of the staff at the castle were Animals, including Fiyero’s governess, tutors, and personal guard. He was most fond of his governess, a kind panda named Palina who stayed with the royal children until Fiyero left for his first university. Even in retirement, she would write letters to her former charges, who never failed to write back. While he was away, she was his safe space, her warm and fuzzy hugs replaced with warm and encouraging words of ink. His tutors, despite instructions from Baxiana to be more strict with his curriculum, had empathy for the prince’s learning struggles and would try various methods to help him learn. They also understood the importance and value of encouragement and would give him small praises and rewards for completing tasks on time or correctly. Fiyero never understood why humans couldn’t be as good teachers as animals and attributed the former’s lack of empathy for their spartan methods.

Finally, Fiyero met Feldspur completely by accident! He had been hiding in one of his hiding spots in the royal stables (which were more like suites for the Horses) when one of the mares found him in the corner of her suite. She knew him and he knew her, so it hadn’t been awkward but she thought she would cheer the teen up by introducing her colt Feldspur to him. At first, the two didn’t see eye to eye, as Feldspur didn’t know why a prince would be unhappy and Fiyero didn’t know why the young horse asked so many questions, but the two eventually warmed to eachother when Fiyero realized that Feldspur actually listened to him. Even if he wasn’t human and wasn’t Fiyero’s age (in animal years haha), he listened intently and the questions that bothered him were asked with curiosity and care, not mocking or ignorance. Fiyero had eventually forgotten why he had been in the stables in the first place, having made a new friend that was on the same level as him. The two quite literally grew up together (and ate grass together in the process) and share a deep friendship that goes beyond a prince and his noble steed.

Phew, that was a lot IM SO SORRY HAHAHA. At that I’m gonna log out and explore this more in fics and drabbles in the future. If you made it this far, THANK YOU and I promise future posts will be shorter 🤗

[nanowrimo]

5 Tips to Avoid Burnout as a Neurodivergent Writer

When taking on a project as big as writing a novel, you may run into the risk of burnout. NaNo Participant Joana Hill gives some tips on avoiding burnout as a neurodivergent writer.

Burnout.  As writers, we all know it. For neurodivergent writers, burnout can be even more damaging than usual. We can be much more sensitive, both mentally and emotionally, than our neurotypical friends and family.

This means avoiding burnout, and taking care of it when it does happen, can be even more important for us.  I’m here today to provide some tips for my fellow neurodivergent writers to tackle just that.

1. Write What Interests You

Write what interests you rather than what you think you ‘should’ be writing.  Many of us get caught-up in pleasing others.  For neurodivergent people who’ve spent much of their life masking, or hiding their true personality and needs because of fear of rejection, it can be a hard habit to break.

If you want to write a 50k slow burn coffee shop AU of your favorite fandom, an epic space opera starring ants, or a main character with ADHD, autism, dyslexia, or any other disorder or condition you have, go for it.

2. Get A Support Network

For neurodivergent people, we’ve often lived our lives with special interests no one wants to hear us talk about.  It often results in us not talking about them at all before someone can tell us they don’t want to hear about it.

Whether it’s offline with friends and family, or online here at NaNoWriMo or other sites, having people who are actively interested in listening to you and helping you plot and write can be a game-changer.

3. Celebrate As Many Victories As You Want

Many years, my personal goal is that I can get the new Pokemon game, which always comes out around the middle of November now, once I hit 50k.  But you don’t need just one grand goal.

Get a bag of your favorite candy and say you can have a piece every so many words.  Find something on Amazon you want (and can afford to get!) and say you’ll get it once you hit the halfway point.  Whatever motivates you to keep going, set it into motion.

4. Plan For Flexibility

That may sound like an oxymoron, but hear me out.  Neurodivergent people often love to have a plan.  I know I can get frustrated and upset when I’m expecting something to happen and something different does.  For a big goal like writing a novel in a month, a lot of things can end up going wrong.

Carry a notebook and pen or tablet with a keyboard case in case an errand takes longer than expected.  Back your writing up to several places in case your main writing device crashes.  Make sure at least one of those is a cloud service in case you end up writing on a device that isn’t yours.  The more contingency plans you have, the better prepared you are when life happens.

5. Be Kind To Yourself

Some days you may not get the minimum goal, or you might not write at all.  You may feel like you just can’t do it because you’re behind on your word count, or you decide you don’t like what you’ve written.

I get it.  But don’t beat yourself up about it.  Take a break.  Play your favorite game or read your favorite book.  Go for a walk.  And remember that you’re awesome.  No one can write this story like you can.

Joana Hill is a writer of young adult stories, as well as novellas inspired by Japanese light novels and anime. You can find her books, social media, and anything else you could imagine wanting to know about her on her LinkTree. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio

[the-universal-sun]

Stan regressing as a reaction to getting yelled at?

I’m going to do teen stan regressing because I think we need more of that! There is some cursing and slight mentions of violence, but not a lot and nothing bad! I also subscribe to the belief that Stan has dyslexia!

(Again, sorry for the late postings, life has been more hectic than I thought it’d be. But I’ll be posting a couple of asks a day!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ya’ damn knucklehead! How the hell do you fail a damn English test!? What? Ya can’t fucking read!?” Filbrick slams Stan’s wrinkled up English test, a bright red ‘D’ front on center, into Stan’s chest, knocking him back.

“Get outta my sight, I don’t even want to look at such an abject failure right now!” And with that, Filbrick storms out and down to the pawnshop. And Stan can feel that tale-tell fuzziness enter his head. The one that makes him feel all light and small. He doesn’t recall going to his room, but he must have, because the next thing he knows is that he’s closing his and Ford’s bedroom door with a soft “click”. The noise startles Ford, who spins quickly around in his desk chair. Stan distantly thinks that it’d be fun to spin around in the chair until he got dizzy and his stomach turned.

“Stanley! I heard Pa’ yelling! He didn’t hit you did he?” Ford must not notice Stan’s fuzziness. Stan isn’t looking at him, his face looking down at the floor, so he can’t blame him. He just shakes his head, shrugs, and walks slowly to his bed. Sometimes, when he feels fuzzy like this, his legs get all shaky and hard to walk on-like he’s a circus person walking on those really big stilts. He doesn’t hear what else Ford asks him, climbing into his bed and facing the wall. He wants to cry, but it’s almost like his stupid body won’t let him. Moses, he can’t even commit to being a baby.

“Stanley? A-are you alright? I heard dad yelling about your test. I’m sorry, I know you tried your best on that.” Stan did try his best. He can’t help it that sometimes the words don’t make sense, or they’re harder to read without his glasses-Pa’ wouldn’t buy him anymore after the last time they got broke after some meanie broke them. Sometimes it’s almost like the letters switch around on him. He doesn’t know why it happens, maybe everybody’s right and he is just stupid. He pulls his blanket tighter around him, burying his head in his pillow.

“Stan-what’s the matter? Why aren’t you talking to me? What’s wrong?” He still doesn’t answer Ford. He can’t answer Ford. He never a feels like speaking when his head goes all fuzzy like this. Ford doesn’t say anything for a while. Stan thinks that maybe he gave up, it makes sense that he would. Stan isn’t worth the effort, especially if he can’t act grown up. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he sees his stuffed monkey-Mookie-place in front of him.

“Is it Mookie Time, bud? Is that what’s going on here?” Mookie Time was what they called it when Stan’s head went all out of sorts. Ford came up with it, Stan didn’t want to acknowledge it, but they needed something to call it, and they couldn’t find anything about what he’s going through in any of the library books.

Stan brings Mookie closer to him, rubbing his little ears against his lips, resisting the urge to chew on them. He just hums a bit as an answer to Ford’s question-he can never lie to Ford, his best friend and big brother. He sniffles, but still can’t cry. He feels Ford lean over him and swipe his hair back across his forehead, leaning down to tap their foreheads together. They just sit like that, Stan matching Ford’s breathing.

“Well, that’s okay, we can have Mookie Time. I’ll be on the look out for Ma’ and Pa’. And I’ll be here to take care of you, Lee, you’re my little brother, and I’m sorry I can’t protect you like you protect me.” Those words finally release Stan’s tears, his silent sobs wetting Mookie’s fabric. Ford sighs into the back of his head, pressing a kiss to it. He feels him get up, and his heart spikes, thinking Ford’s leaving him only for another blanket to be tucked around him and Ford laying his own body on Stan’s, trying to mimic the pressure of something heavier.

Stan can’t stop crying, but Ford’s soft touches and Mookie’s smiling face don’t make him feel as bad, so he doesn’t mind it so much. He’s glad Ford sticks around and cares for him, this would all be so much worse if he was alone. He loves his brother so much. He bumps his head up against Ford’s, earning a chuckle. Maybe when he’s feeling better, he can work on his “Lil’ Stanley” comics with Ford’s help.. Stan’s good at writing the stories, but Ford’s better at drawing. They always work well together, the best pair of Twins in all of Jersey.

[cxptain-capsicle]

Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | III

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

Series Masterlist Taglist

“Luke.” You whispered, trying not to wake any of the other campers. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” He whispered back. “You okay?”

You had been at Camp for a few months now and Luke was already accustomed to being woken up from you jolting out of bed after a nightmare. He joked that some mornings he would nearly be thrown out of the top bunk.

“I didn;t have a nightmare, I just can’t sleep.” Your voice trailed off at the end. Within a second Luke was out of the top bunk, his feet hitting the hard wood made a loud sound that made you jump.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You sat up in the bed and he came to sit next to you.

“I just-” You started but struggled to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll be claimed.” After your few weeks at camp the topic of being claimed felt taboo, like everyone was thinking the same thing and nobody wanted to say it. 

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “I knew a girl who got claimed after being here for almost a year. It can take time.”

“I’m tired of waiting.” You were too afraid to say anything negative about the gods while in one of their cabins. Especially the messenger god. “I just feel really alone.”

Luke didn’t say anything, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other at the side of your head and pulled you into a hug.

When you woke up Percy was still asleep, you normally didn’t take too much to the new kids but you liked this one. You would be the first one to admit that you were jealous of the new arrivals seeing as most of them would be claimed within weeks. There was no point in becoming buddy-buddy with someone who would go off and get so wrapped up in their new siblings and godly parent that they forget all about you. Three years of radio silence from the gods had made you a little bitter. Luke would argue that maybe it was more than a little.

“I’m gonna take Percy around camp today,” Luke was slouched against the pillow in your bed. He grabbed one of his shoes and forcefully put it on. “Wanna come?”

“Get your shoes off of my bed.” You shoved his leg off the side of the bed, forcing him to sit up next to you. “And I’ll pass, Annabeth and I are gonna talk capture the flag.” 

“Oh come on I thought you liked him?” Luke always tried to get you to join him but talking about nothing but getting claimed for 3 hours wasn’t your idea of fun. 

“Not that much.” Before Luke could respond Percy sat up from his spot on the floor with a jolt. You had been asking Charlie Beckendorf, a Hephaestus camper, to make more bed frames for the cabin for months but it kept falling to the bottom of his priority list. Over the past few years the amount of kids in the Hermes cabin has grown faster than you could accommodate.

“You okay?” Luke asked as he rose to his feet.

“Super.” Percy groaned as he pulled himself off of the ground.

“We all have them, you know.” Luke was always the first to comfort new campers. “Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. And the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else.”

“So are you also…” Percy said slowly. “Do you not know who your-”

“Am I unclaimed?” Luke finished for him. He glanced over at you instinctually. “No, Hermes is my father.” Like always mentioning Hermes made Luke stand up straighter. “That doesn't matter, we're all on the same team here.”

“I’m unclaimed.” You told Percy. “I’ve been here for 3 years.”

“Why is that okay?” He was talking directly to you now. “Why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since the day I got here.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, he sounded exactly like you. “I get how you’re feeling but no matter what happens you’re gonna be fine.”

“Spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy.” Luke warned. “Sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

“And what's that?” Percy asked.

“Glory.” Luke smirked. “Demigods have always fought for glory. They used to call it kleos. It's like this stuff that attaches itself to your name. Makes it bigger, scarier, more important. People listen closer when you talk, they work harder to be your friend and they think twice about messing with you.” Before Luke could finish Clarisse passed by bumping Percy in the shoulder. 

“Hey!” Percy exclaimed, causing Clarisse to quickly turn around and push him down to the ground. 

“Woah!” Luke stepped up to Clarisse. “Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It's like his first day, come on.” You grabbed Percy’s arm and helped him up off the ground.

“Wait, so this is the kid who killed the Minotaur.” She had a devilish smile on her face. “Is that right?”

“Yeah?” Percy said cautiously. 

“I'll bet. Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.” Clarisse made a fake lunge for him, causing Percy to jump.

“Clarisse, let it go.” You chimed in. She glanced at you for a moment before turning away with her friends. You and Clarisse weren’t friends exactly, she wasn’t friends with anyone outside of her cabin, especially not an unclaimed kid, but you weren’t enemies. You got along well enough, you would spar together, you mutually respected each other. Every once in a while you might even have a few laughs at the campfire.

“Well, she seems nice.” Percy said flatly. 

“Ares kids.” Luke sighed. “They come by it honestly.”

“Maybe she’ll grow on you.” You shrugged. “I kinda like her, then again she doesn’t bother me.”

“Why don't they mess with you?” Percy asked Luke.

“They know better.” Luke said proudly. 

“Luke's the strongest swordsman at camp.” Chris explained.

“I’m second.” You chimed in. “For the record.”  

“So, they leave you alone because ‘glory’?” Percy asked and Luke nodded. “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn't mess with me either?”

“Exactly.”

“And people think I'm a big deal?”

“Well, sorta, but-” Luke started.

“I don’t know about all that.” You said

“And my dad's got no choice but to claim me.” Percy finished. You and Luke sighed and looked at eachother. You understood his eagerness to be seen. 

“You can't force the gods to do anything.” Luke told Percy gently.

“Believe me, I’d know. I tried.” You added.

“Well, yeah, but... it would make it harder for him to pretend I don't exist, right?” 

“It’s worth a shot.” You shrugged.

“It is?” Luke swiveled to look at you.

“I mean it couldn’t hurt.” You just wanted to give the poor kid some hope.

“Great.” Percy perked up. “Where do we start?”

When you had nightmares you knew you were in a dream but that didn’t make it any less scary. You were on a beach, it was dark, the sky shades of purple and blue. There were storms; the waves were five times higher than your head. You were alone, the beach extended as far as your eyes could see. With nothing else to do you began walking down the beach. With every step your feet became heavier- wait, no- you were sinking. The sand was vibrating causing you to sink further and further into it. You were struggling to try to pull your feet out of the sand until you heard voices that made you freeze. Luke. Then Annabeth. Grover. Clarisse. And a young boy's voice that you didn’t recognize. You could make out each of their voices but not what they were saying. Their voices were frantic, they were calling for help, they were in danger. You fought harder but it only made you sink faster.

“Luke!” You screamed out just as your head went beneath the sand.

You woke up with a jolt gasping for air, panting, and drenched in sweat. You peered to the bunk above you to see if you had woken Luke but there was no movement. You pulled yourself out of bed as quietly as possible to not wake anyone. You debated waking Luke but decided against it. You slipped your shoes on and grabbed a jacket that you kept by your bed. As quietly as you could you tiptoed across the cabin and out the front door. You went out the door past the Hephaestus cabin, then Apollo, Ares, then Poseidon. Just as you were about to pass the mess hall a voice erupted from the silence of the night. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” It was Luke. 

“Oh my gods, Luke.” You nearly doubled over with shock. “You didn’t have to sneak up on me.”

“Why are you out here?” He came close to you, placing his hands on the sides of your arms. “It’s the middle of the night. It’s freezing.”

“I- I had another nightmare.” 

“The same one?” He asked and you nodded. You had been at camp for almost a year now and had been having the same dream for almost six months. “Why are you out here?”

“I just needed fresh air, I guess.” You crossed your arms over your chest, honestly you didn’t know why you were out here.

Luke gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“Okay let’s walk then.”

You and Luke walked together quietly for a while. You walked through the woods until you reached the Long Island sound. It was the same beach as the one in your dream but even in the dead of night it wasn’t as cold, as scary as it was in your dreams. Sometimes after a particularly bad night you would come here to remind yourself that it was just a dream. This was the first time Luke had come with you to the beach and it gave you much more comfort. 

“This isn’t your first time out here is it?” Luke glanced at you with a smile, he knew the answer.

“No,” You chuckled. “I guess I find it relaxing.”

The two of you found a place to sit on the sand just above the tide. Luke sat to your left, your shoulders touching trying to conserve the little warmth between you. There was a silence between you that felt safe and comfortable. You rested your head on Luke’s shoulder and he rested his head against yours. You felt something cold touch the side of your hand and looked down to see Luke's hand inching closer to yours. It felt like you were moving in slow motion but eventually Luke had your hand clasped in his. You and Luke had always had a special relationship. From the second he found you in the cave and pulled you into his lap you were bonded. He gave you his bunk when you came to camp. Showed you around and always stayed at your side. Listened to you grovel about not being claimed day in and day out. You had hugged before but never held hands and it never felt like this before.

“You’re not alone.” Luke whispered to you. The sound of the waves and Luke’s voice were music to your ears. You were entranced, Luke was so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon providing just enough light to bounce off of the water and reflect onto Lukes face. The light made his brown eyes glitter. You had never looked at Luke this way before. You were so close and millimeter by millimeter you were getting closer and closer-

“Oh!” You both exclaimed as the freezing cold water of the tide splashed up on you both, soaking you in sea water. Each of you rose to your feet eagerly running from the water before doubling over in laughter.

“Oh, that’s freezing!” You cried out through your laughs. When you finally caught your breath Luke was in front of you staring down at you seriously. “What is it?”

“I mean it,” He was breathing heavily. “You’re not alone here.” 

“I know Luke,” You nodded. “But-,” Luke cocked his head, unsure of what else you had to say.

“I’ve been alone my whole life Luke. No parents, no family. Camp was where I was supposed to find that. But my parent couldn’t care less that I even exist.” You rambled.

“I know that you’re upset-” Luke tried but you cut him off.

“I’m not upset Luke. I’m angry!” You shouted. You felt your face turn hot with anger, your heart beat fast. “I’m furious that they would abandon me-”

“Y/n-” Luke tried but you kept going.”

“They would humiliate me, over and over. My entire life!” You were fuming, your blood boiling.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

“What!” You yelled back. Just now you realized that Luke wasn’t looking at you. He was looking behind you. You turned around to see a massive wave, 30 feet high, suspended behind you. Your anger turned to confusion and just as it did the wave came crashing down at your feet, returning to the sea like it was never there.

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Taglist:

@fudosl @lenasvoid @light-23 @petrichorvzlia-blog @heartzflwers @vampsaddicted @bbgkaykay @shiara04 @teigo-the-explorer @number-onekidqueen

[pjomakesyourkidsgay]

one man orchestra | p. jackson

synopsis: you have an unexpected audience apart from your bunk and your dirty laundry.

warnings: fem!reader, persephone!reader, violin player!reader, bf!percy

wc: 618

being a demigod is hard.

it's not just the supernatural stuff, like monsters, godly feuds, prophecies and unwelcome dreams. there's the fact that you're just different from many kids your age when you're outside camp — you have to deal with studying through your dyslexia, seeing stuff that no one else would believe was real if you'd told them, fighting off beasts that seem to sense you no matter where you were.

although, to be honest, being in camp wasn't any easier.

just being the daughter of persephone, a virgin goddess, set you aside from the other campers. it's too time-consuming to explain your origins, so you end up just distancing yourself from every one else.

nobody reached out, nobody bothered you. so you find solace in a hobby that kept you indoors. you stand in your cabin, hands on your hips as you glare at the pile of burned or shredded clothes on the floor. weeks ago you'd agreed to reuse them with the demeter and aphrodite cabins, perhaps remake new items like bags or hats, but the smell of the burned material was stinking up your whole room!

you decide that it's not suitable for human use, ever, not even any other living organism, so you threw it out into the overflowing camp trash bin, already full of broken arrows and bent swords.

looking around at your empty cabin, no boyfriend or siblings or friends resting inside, you take out the battered case from beneath your bed. not battered because of misuse, no. battered because of age.

your precious violin lies inside in velvet lining, like a corpse waiting for you to take it out to see sunlight once more. you take it gently in your hands, handling it like an infant before assuming a comfortable position and gliding the bow against the strings.

eventually you lose yourself in the melody and rhythm of your own, fingers moving on their own as you play a song you've memorized by heart. eyes closed, your ears take in the music as your lungs take in air, as if it were part of you now, necessary to keep living.

if flowers were not in your veins, you would've been certain that sunlight ran through it.

you go on playing for a time that felt so long but so short, and as you let the last note ring, a different sound grabs your attention.

"you never told me you played."

the smooth sound of your boyfriend's voice wraps around you, flesh hitting flesh in an action of praise. a slight blush in embarrassment of being caught spread out on your cheeks.

percy's clapping draws to a close. he walks forward to you and sits down by your side, grinning. "were you just escaping from playing for me?"

you roll your eyes, bumping him softly with your shoulder. "no, silly. i just wasn't sure i could play in front of an audience."

"why? you're amazing at it."

"i don't know." you shrug. "nerves. anxiety. that i might mess it up."

percy puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, rubbing circles into the cloth of your shirt. "well, i'm hoping i can be an exception. i'm a great hype man, you know."

that brings a smile to your lips. "yes, i know you are."

"you wanna grab something to eat?" he asks, offering a hand as he stands. you follow suit, interlacing your hands with his. "and then you can teach me how to play."

you smirk. "you sure you're up for violin, jackson?"

"as long as you're the teacher," he grins, pulling you out and close to him.

a fist hits his chest soon after. "great hype man but horrible flirt."

"hey!"

[krockat]

OH ABSOLUTELY!! THAT'S MY FUCKING GUY RIGHT THERE!! MY FUCKING GOOD TIME BAD TIME LAD!!

I'm literally called krockat, which means crashed. it's in my dna

And YEA the song is such an extreme goofy banger.

trazan och banarnes creators made so many amazing bangers. am so sad I never caught electric banana band (their band) live!!

i still dream of performing as olyckan and doing the song at some point, icon that he (they? it?) is.

and tell me, WHAT feels better on your brain tongue than a lovely oo-bee-doo-bee-doo-bee-do-be D'OH-LYCKAN!!

and, as I say, also slays such cunt. look at the video and try tell me otherwise.

people who were swedish youth at the time of watching this for the first time might experience fear instead though..

Best afear them into wearing a helmet, then!!

favorite word?

hmm. hard ask. there are so many excellent tasty and scrumptious words.

those three words are very nice!

but otherwise, in Swedish the word olyckan i think is very slay cunt.

also, placeholder. that's a cool word.

also fantastisk in Swedish is a cool word!

i think what makes a good word, the best words, is how tasty it feels on your tongue. even just when you're writing it it, thinking it.

[telugu-girl-13]

really super bored in the car so

cabin 6’s hangout activities!

be aware that all of these activities involve competition. the athena cabin can’t go without a little challenge or two over the summer!

hosting debates

probably the children of athena’s favorite activity to do when they’re all sprawled around on a cool summer day without anything to do. time to host a debate! they call over one of the children of nemesis to judge, then pick six of their best speakers to split into two teams. fifteen minutes of research and prep prior, using only the books in their cabin. it’s super intense—even the spectators can feel it—and winner is free of cabin duties for the rest of the week!

read-a-thons

a competition between every member of cabin 6. after a bulk amazon order of a book agreed on by everyone, they all sit around, grab their teacups, and start reading. with dyslexia, it’s hard enough, but everyone is up to the challenge. whoever wins has to give somewhat of a lecture on the book’s topic, quoting page numbers as well. everyone else gets to check the book while they speak, so if they get anything wrong, they’re switched out for the second fastest reader, and so on. they keep talking until a timer of ten minutes is over, and the person who is speaker when the clock hits ten minutes is the winner!

gift exchange

this activity is simple enough, but starts a month before, in july. everyone is given names like secret santa, and they have to follow their person around for a month without noticing and make them a gift with what they find around camp. the point is to make your gift as fast as you can before you get caught, but you still have to follow the person around even if you’ve finished your gift. (from the wise words of some athena kid, nothing is perfect and everything can always be improved upon.) if someone suspects that someone else is their gifter and gets it right, the gifter gives them however much of the gift they’ve made. then, they become a team, trying to find the gifter’s gifter, and so on. if you’re not caught, you give the gift on the last day of the summer, so you have something to go home with if you weren’t able to catch your gifter. (gifts consist of poems, statues, artwork, etc.)

forcing someone to read a book

every athena kid’s name is shoved into a civil war helmet. every other occupied cabin’s god’s name is shoved into another. both are randomly picked at the same time. if your name is picked, you have to convince someone from the cabin picked to read a book, and they have to end up liking it. this is difficult when you get, say, the hypnos cabin. imagine getting them to read a book! but it can be any length, language, and topic, so cabin 6 uses that to their advantage. the chosen kid has to bring someone out of the chosen cabin into the middle of the cabins so the rest of them can comfortably watch from their cabin. it’s a test of speaking skills and persuasion, because it doesn’t depend as much on the book, but rather how the kid presents it. when they finish, the other cabin kid has to come to the athena kid and tell them if they liked it or not. if they did, said athena kid is named champion of the cabin! if they didn’t, another name is picked from the hat.

bonus!

historical reenactments

yes those hats actually come to use! an athena kid picks a non fiction book off the shelf with their eyes closed. they have to choose a team to reenact that scene with limited preparation and the materials around them!

[fullmoonandstar]

Common Interests

Gale x gn Tav / Reader

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Rating: T

Word count: 1.3 k

CW: Dyslexia, vague mentions of past trauma

Summary: Your crush is well-read and you want to be close to him by picking up a book. It would be a good strategy if reading wasn't so hard.

Or

Dyslexic gn Tav/Reader wants to impress Gale

A/N: inspired by this post

You were so concentrated on the task at hand that you didn’t notice the footsteps behind. You had found a nice secluded spot a bit away from the camp and settled on a fallen tree to continue your reading as you had done for the past few days.

“What are you doing?”

The question carried a smile, but you jerked, and the book slipped out of your hands. Gale snatched it out of the air, and you grasped at nothing.

“Hmm … an interesting read you have here. I would recommend following up with Sara Ibb’s take on the topic. They give a more balanced view.”

You felt your face burn and prayed to the gods that Gale was too distracted by your choice of book (you had found it in the cellar of an abandoned house) to notice.

He rattled on about the nuances of using weave grass in potions, and you could not help but let the corners of your mouth creep upwards. Gale’s enthusiasm made your insides feel all warm and soft.

“Oh, I totally lost you in the barrage of words. I …” Gale laughed nervously. “How did you like the book?”

“It was good.” you said a bit too quickly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked at you suddenly intrigued, as if you were a puzzle to be solved.

“Come, my friend, what did you really think?”

You panicked. What would be an acceptable thing to say? Your heart beat faster, and you were stuck between wanting to flee and not being able to so without making a bad impression.

The seconds dragged on, but no words left your mouth. Gale watched your silent struggle for another heartbeat before sitting down next to you and waited.

"It’s hard to read." you said finally. Gale’s brows furrowed and you stammered an explanation. "I can understand it, I can read, but it’s so difficult to read.

"Why?" Gale asked softly. The ball of anxiety and embarrassment was melted away by his warm presence. You had been so caught up in your own head that you had forgotten how save Gale made you feel, like you could tell him everything.

"I’m not sure how to explain it." you paused to think. "It’s like the letters come in and out of focus, like they move around on the page if I don’t give it all my attention."

Gale nodded slowly in the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t look at him. You had never told anyone about this and if you were honest, your school days and the embarrassment that was your inadequate reading skills were still hanging in the back of your mind.

"I hope you don’t think me rude, but why are you reading that if it’s hard for you? I remember you saying you are not big on books."

Now he had hit the target, the big question.

"Which is understandable for someone with your condition."

"My condition?"

"Dyslexia, from the sound of it."

"Is it fatal?"

Gale laughed, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"No, and it’s not contagious either." He smiled at you, the sweetest thing you had seen in a while.

"As far as we know, it stems from individual difference in how the brain works and has nothing to do with intelligence or lack thereof. People with it have problems reading or writing, in various degrees of severely. It’s pretty common, but before when reading was a skill not many were allowed to learn, we didn’t notice that about 1 in 10 people has problems with it. You should have seen Val, their writing was atrocious but a very fine wizard indeed." He smiled wistfully. "You have nothing to worry about."

You looked at the book in your hands in a new light. Since your school days, you had struggled, but now at least you had a name for the trouble you had.

"Thank you, Gale."

Your eyes met, and your heart skipped a beat. He looked stunning just sitting next to you, and a warm wave of affection rolled over you. You opened your mouth to say something when Gale leaned over. For a moment, you thought he would kiss you, but he reached out and took the book.

"Do you want me to read it to you? Or maybe something else? I have a collection at my tent." He gave you a bright smile while you still recovered.

Snap out of it, you told yourself, you’re acting like a love sick puppy.

"Choose whatever sounds interesting."

"You want to read to me?" you said when your brain had caught up.

"Yes, I do enjoy the sound of my own voice, and you seek knowledge."

Gale was someone who talked a lot, but you would be lying if you said you did not like that about him. It was his openness that drew you in, in the first place.

He studied your face and added: "That’s very attractive."

A twig snapped behind you and both, you and Gale jumped.

"There you are!" Karlach appeared with a leaf in her hair that was sizzling.

"Food is almost ready, let’s get back before we eat everything without you."

Shadowheart was not a chef cook by any means, but she and Wyll had a good tag team on the hearth. You ate with gusto, and forgot all about your conversation with Gale.

After dinner, he came over and said:

"My offer still stands. If you'd like, you can come over at any time."

"Now?"

"Sure, come." He held out his hand to help you stand up from the log you were sitting on, and you took it.

Gale had not been lying about the collection he had.

"You carry all this in your bag?!"

"Not technically, I have this pocket dimension…"

"Wizard stuff."

He laughed.

"Yes, Wizard stuff."

You found a book that sounded interesting and handed it to him.

"Ah, yes, I could have known this one would pique your interest."

Gale sat down on his bedroll, and you sat next to him.

"Strap in, you will love this. Such a good read."

————————-

When you opened your eyes, you panicked, not knowing where you were and why you felt so warm. This was not your tent, and you lay under a blanked with a warm body pressed to you, an arm holding you in place. The memory of last night came back to you. Gale reading to you, and you were slowly shifting from a sitting position to lying down on his bedroll. At some point, you must have drifted off to a dreamless sleep, the first one since your infection.

Gale stirred, nuzzling your neck sleepily before freezing.

"Oh, I’m sorry." he said and began to pull back, but you caught his hand as it retreated.

"Don’t." You pull his hand back into the position it was, you tight in his arm and his body pressed against your back. "It’s nice. Let’s stay a bit longer."

He said your name, and you looked over your shoulder. His hair was in disarray, but it made him even more endearing, not less.

"Why did you start reading books?"

He had asked the question that you had not answered the day before, and it seemed he already knew the answer.

"There is this person I like, they are really smart, and I wanted to be closer to them. To him."

Gale shifted until you were on your back, facing him. You noticed the little wrinkles the pillow had made on his face but also the fullness of his lips. His eyes studied your face and got caught by your lips.

You reached out and ran your fingers from his temple down the side of his face through his soft beard. Your hand on his chin, you nudged him to lean in, and he followed your request.

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