hallo this is my stupid reblog account or my account to post my stupid thoughtsssss!! You can call me fable and i use any prns!!!(if you ever need to refer to me)
I don’t think we talk about the fact that Eri would be Kai chisaki’s sister and not daughter enough. His grandfather was the one who took her in, Chisaki only took care of her because of the coma thing. So basically what I’m saying is where are the no-quirk/redemption au’s where Eri and Chisaki have a sibling relationship and Eri annoys him at every second of the day?
I like to see characters who’s names are puns on their species, but it also gets me thinking a LOT. Like, does EVERYONE in that species have names that are puns?? How many variations of names could there possibly be?? How are they not running out of good names?? Wouldn’t there be like 10 little skeletons named “skelly” running around??? It just makes me think way too hard.
I wish we would’ve gotten to see more drawbacks to Percy’s power like we saw with Nico (passing out). Saying that I think it should be stomach aches due to the fact when Percy uses his power in an important moment, he always feels a tug on his stomach!!
A continuation of this old post: I think this would cause Percy to have a weak stomach. Not in the sense that he can’t stand the sight of blood or gore, in fact, EVERYTHING besides that has him gagging. He thinks your subway order is gross? Gagging. The slightest scent of something bad in the room? Gagging. EVERYTHING.
I think if Artemis fowl lived in our time he would take block blast too seriously. He has one singular game he’s been playing consecutively for god knows how long. He’s only lost once due to the slip of his fingers.
ₚₐᵢᵣᵢₙG: Perseus Jackson x f!reader
ₜW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, child abuse, scars, self-hatred, depression, domestic abuse.
ₐ/ₙ: HIIII I'm a retired ff writer, but I've decided to come back js because I'm bored, my writing not be as good as it used to be, but hope you guys like this one.
Percy never liked his scars. Every little white line on his tanned skin was a painful reminder of the pain he’d endured. Most of them were due to quests and monsters, sure. But some were due to all the people he’d ever lost—those weren’t visible, but he could see them anyway, feel them when the nights grew too quiet, when he'd wanted to stop existing.
And gods, he hated the scars left by his stepfather the most.
They were thinner. Meaner. The kind that didn’t come from claws or fangs, but from hands that were supposed to protect him. Percy could still remember the way he’d learned to go still, to breathe shallow, to count the seconds until it was over. Those scars never burned like monster wounds did. They just sat there, cold and accusing, whispering that he’d deserved it somehow. No matter how many times his mother would soothe them, tell him that he was safe now, even with a black eye herself, he just wanted to stop breathing, and Gods, he had tried...Once. When he thought Tyson died, he had tried to drown himself, but no matter how many times he had tried to, he was a son of Poseidon, he couldn't.
Some days, he tugged his shirt down without thinking. Other days, he stared at them too long, jaw clenched, knuckles white, those thoughts overbearing his mind again.
Tonight was one of those days.
The campfire crackled behind him, laughter echoing from the pavilion, but Percy had slipped away to the edge of the beach. The ocean was calmer than he felt. He sat in the sand, knees pulled to his chest, shirt abandoned beside him like a bad habit he couldn’t quit. Moonlight traced every scar with brutal honesty.
You found him there.
You hadn’t meant to intrude. You’d just noticed he was gone, noticed the way he’d smiled a little too tightly all evening. When you approached, you slowed, unsure—until Percy felt your presence and flinched, shoulders tensing on instinct alone.
“Hey,” you said softly. “I’m sorry. I can go if you want.”
He didn’t look at you right away. “You don’t have to.”
The words came out rough, like they’d scraped his throat on the way up.
You sat beside him anyway, close enough that your arms brushed, far enough that he didn’t feel trapped. You didn’t stare. You didn’t ask. You just stayed, and somehow that hurt more than being alone.
Percy finally exhaled. “They’re ugly,” he muttered, nodding toward his torso. “I try not to think about them. But sometimes… it’s like they’re louder than everything else.”
You turned to him then, eyes gentle but unflinching. “They’re not ugly,” you said. “They’re proof you’re still here.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Still here doesn’t always feel like a good thing.”
The admission slipped out before he could stop it. His fingers dug into the sand. For a moment, you wondered if he’d shut down completely—but then you reached out, slow and deliberate, giving him time to pull away.
He didn’t.
Your hand rested over his, warm, grounding. “I know that feeling,” you said quietly. “The one where existing feels heavier than disappearing.”
Percy swallowed. His eyes burned, and he hated that too—hated how close he always felt to breaking, like one wrong thought could send him spiraling back into the dark places he worked so hard to outrun.
“I used to think,” he admitted, voice barely above the waves, “that if I was strong enough, fast enough, brave enough… none of it would’ve happened. That I could’ve stopped it.”
You shook your head. “You were a kid, Percy. None of that was your fault. Not then. Not ever.”
Something in his chest cracked at the certainty in your tone.
Carefully, you traced a finger just beside one of the scars—not touching, but close enough that he felt seen without feeling exposed. “These don’t define you,” you continued. “They don’t make you broken. And they don’t cancel out the good—the way you protect people, the way you care, the way you keep choosing to live even when it hurts.”
He finally looked at you. Really looked.
“You don’t see me the way I see myself,” he said.
You met his gaze without hesitation. “No. I see you the way you actually are.”
The ocean sighed behind you both. Percy leaned into you then, forehead resting against your shoulder, the weight of him heavy and achingly human. You wrapped your arms around him without thinking, holding him like you understood that sometimes survival wasn’t loud or heroic—it was quiet, trembling, and desperately in need of warmth.
For the first time that night, the scars were silent, still.
And for once, Percy didn’t feel like he had to face them alone.
I love the headcanon that all demigods look kind of “off” or “uncanny” and I think we can actually see that in the books with how Percy is described !
I notice that a lot of times when Percy is described, they mention his eyes. It may just be because Rick doesn’t like describing exact facial features of Percy (I think due to the fact that he wants readers to be able to imagine anyone as Percy) BUT they do tend to stand out a lot, yknow??
I think Percy’s eyes are slightly too big. Not overwhelmingly large, but just enough that someone would look at him and think “something’s not right here.” I like to imagine that in the dark, they emit a light glow that no one can prove isn’t just their eyes tricking them, and his pupils are just thin enough to count as feline.
all my Kokichi and Kaito drawings so far (there will be more)
(btw if u dont like oumota pls just scroll past and don't write hateful stuff (Crazy that I have to say this i know lol))
Hot take but I think percabeth should’ve been a little bit toxic. Okay it didn’t HAVE to be but it would’ve been really funny. Like. Have you SEEN teenagers in a relationship?? Give me percabeth who breaks up every other day and then gets back together immediately after.
it was queerbait. dont let anyone call you stupid. the duffer brothers are homophobic. it isnt about shipping. byler was woven into the narrative. i ship steddie for fuck's sake, and id never have expected it to be canon in a million years even if eddie hadnt died. they lied to us, they led us on, as a marketing strategy, because it was queerbait.
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stormborns
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snowghoul
