suzanne @suzanneniklausversion - Tumblr Blog

s͟u͟z͟a͟n͟n͟e͟ her femme lesbian intp

"is it better to speak or to die?"

leo valdez and poe dameron favorite. greek mythology enthusiast. written by the neighborhood, wilde and kafka. cabin 20. nicotine addict. lillies. thalassophile. homoerotic tension. final boss of yearning. tom riddle apologist. movies enjoyer. oscar isaac younger controversial girlfriend.

" to live is the rarest thing in the world. most people exist, that is all "

ig • letterboxd • tiktok • pinterest • spotify

#tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #wlw #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #harry potter #leo valdez #poetry #angst #thiam #tom riddle #Spotify

spot a difference

#girlblogging #wlw #hannibal #will graham

I need a nap asap

so fucking real but i rarely sleep at night cuz thats the only time i have peace of fucking mind when hoes dont bother me

#girlblogging #im so tired #leave me the fuck alone #i hate it here

amphivine

hi its me again.. can i get spooky season pleaseee

absolutely ml!

no im just being drowned by school </3

i can relate.. im senior this year and gods help me i have tests everyday

and you became a strangerrrrr (i havent used tumblr in a minute forgive me 😭)

i thought i lost my amazing babes 😔

amphivine

could i please get duck, duck, goose? ☺️

You hadn’t meant to fall into the room, and especially not to lock the door. Still, all you can do is step further in. You’re met face to face with..

the water will always remember - "get in the water" by Jorge Rivera-Herrans

for me n @lenscoat cuz she ma favorite

The battlefield still stank of scorched earth and ichor. Gaea was gone - scattered back into the abyss where she belonged. The camp should have been rejoicing, but silence clung to the night.

The demigods looked at Percy with something colder than suspicion.

“Too much power,” someone whispered.

“He’s dangerous,” another muttered.

“We don’t need him anymore.”

The words spread like venom. Faces he had bled for, faces he had nearly died for, twisted in the torchlight. His so-called family. His camp.

Percy’s jaw clenched. Normally he’d laugh it off, make some self-deprecating joke, pretend he didn’t hear. But something inside him cracked.

He could feel the ocean thundering in his chest, the tide calling him back with the promise of violence.

“You want to turn on me?” His voice was low, carrying through the hushed crowd. “After everything? Fine. But don’t pretend you’ll survive what comes next.”

A storm broke in his eyes - sea-green gone wild, frothing with fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet, rivers in the distance swelling, waves roaring against unseen shores.

“Percy.”

The name was spoken sharp, almost reluctant. Thalia stepped forward, hand on Aegis, electric arcs sparking at her fingertips. She didn’t like him. Never had. But she knew betrayal when she saw it.

“If you scumbags think you’re going to kill him when i'm here, you’re deeply mistaken.”

Gasps rippled. Thalia’s blue eyes burned with the storm of her father. Lightning cracked in the clouds overhead, jagged and restless.

And then, like a shadow sliding between them all, Nico emerged. His gaze was death itself, cold and absolute.

“Camp Half-Blood is so eager to throw away its heroes,” he murmured, voice like a grave closing. “Fine. But you forget - he does not stand alone. The earth remembers. The dead remember. And they don’t forgive.”

The three of them stood there - Sea, Sky, and Underworld - and something ancient shivered awake.

The air grew heavy. The ground quaked, restless. The waves on the coast surged higher, slamming against the shore. Thunder split the sky in ragged howls. The very air stank of ozone, brine, and dust.

It was as if the world itself had chosen sides.

The campers faltered, weapons trembling in their hands. They had fought Titans and giants, but this was different. This wasn’t prophecy or duty. This was wrath.

Percy stepped forward, water curling around his arms like serpents of glass. “You wanted me to be a monster?” His voice dropped, almost guttural. “Then get in the water.”

Behind him, lightning carved the night. Shadows stretched long and deep. And with each heartbeat, the sea, the sky, and the earth themselves raged louder - answering their children’s fury.

There would be no forgiveness tonight.

Only reckoning.

The crowd didn’t move. For one awful heartbeat, it was just breath and thunder. Then one camper - Percy didn’t even see who - screamed, charging forward with sword raised.

The sea answered first.

A wave exploded from the ground itself, surging out of the dirt like the battlefield had cracked open into an ocean trench. It swallowed the attacker whole, dragging him into a spiraling whirlpool that vanished as fast as it came, leaving only silence and foam.

The others recoiled, but the madness had already set in. Steel scraped against scabbards. Arrows notched. Fear made them stupid.

“Strike him down!” someone yelled.

“He’s not one of us anymore!”

Percy didn’t flinch. He raised his hand and the air was thick with salt, wet and heavy, suffocating. His voice cut through the storm like a blade:

“Get in the water.”

The words echoed, too loud, too vast, like the ocean itself was speaking through him.

Thalia stepped forward then, her laughter sharp and bitter. “Idiots,” she spat. Her spear crackled alive, lightning screaming down its length. “You want a war?"

The sky cracked open. Bolts rained down, spearing the ground and scattering demigods like ants. One boy tried to shoot an arrow - the string burned to ash before it left his bow.

And then Nico moved. Shadows crawled from the earth like skeletal fingers. The battlefield filled with whispering voices, the cries of soldiers long dead. A wave of cold swept across the camp, and when he raised his hand, half a dozen demigods dropped, clutching their chests as if their hearts had frozen mid-beat.

“Cowards,” Nico whispered, eyes black and bottomless. “The ground you stand on already belongs to me.”

The three of them together - Sea, Sky, Underworld - were unbearable to look at. The earth quaked violently, trees splintering and splitting. The lake rose in a spiral behind Percy, a column of water reaching for the stormclouds Thalia summoned. Lightning struck it, turning the wave into a living, roaring serpent. Shadows coiled around its body, Nico’s will binding it with the silence of death.

The campers broke then. Some tried to flee, some tried to beg. But the world itself was against them.

“Get in the water,” Percy growled again, voice layered with something older than him, older than gods. Each repetition was a command, a sentence.

“Now get in the water.”

The ground cracked, pulling screaming campers into the dark.

“Or I'll raise the tide so high, all of demigods will die...”

The lake boiled, dragging bodies under in whirlpools that spat up shields and swords but no hands to catch them.

“Get. In. The. Water.”

The storm collapsed all around them, lightning and salt and shadow devouring the battlefield.

By the time it ended, Camp Half-Blood was gone. The cabins drowned, the fields torn open, the forest scorched black. The trident, the thunderbolt, and the skull had carved their mark into the world itself.

And in the center of the ruin, Percy stood, chest heaving, eyes blazing with something no god would dare to challenge.

The sea roared. The sky howled. The earth groaned.

And every living thing knew - the world had chosen its monsters.

On Olympus, silence reigned heavier than thunder.

The gods had seen wars, betrayals, the rise and fall of empires - but never this.

Poseidon watched his son with a mixture of dread and pride, fingers clenched so tightly around his throne that the marble cracked.

Zeus’s jaw was locked, lightning flickering across his shoulders as though he wanted to smite but dared not; even he knew that what stood on the battlefield was beyond the reach of godly wrath.

Hades alone seemed calm, though his shadow deepened across the hall, and the others refused to meet his eyes.

What Percy, Thalia, and Nico had unleashed was no rebellion. It was judgment.

The Fates sat apart, their loom burning with threads that writhed like living veins.

Clotho’s hands trembled as she tried to spin the future, only for the thread to knot and fray at every turn.

Lachesis measured with a face pale and drawn, her rod snapping as if it could no longer contain the weight of what was to come.

Atropos, who had cut countless lives short without hesitation, hesitated for the first time, her shears hovering but refusing to close on Percy’s thread.

“He has become more than mortal, more than demigod,” she whispered, and even her sisters did not contradict her.

The gods spoke in panic and fury - some demanded punishment, others whispered of alliances, and still more simply stayed quiet, afraid.

Hera’s voice cracked as she hissed that this was a second Titanomachy in the making.

Ares laughed, but it was hollow, forced, his bravado cracked by the memory of how easily the three had torn through the camp.

Athena’s face was carved from stone, but her eyes betrayed fear.

None of them admitted the truth aloud: that the sea, the sky, and the underworld had turned against Olympus, and that even the gods were no longer safe.

The battlefield was quiet now. Too quiet. Percy stood in the ruin, the stink of ozone and salt still clinging to the air, the cries of the dying already swallowed by silence.

His chest heaved, but he wasn’t tired. That realization hit him first - he wasn’t tired. After everything, after tearing through the camp, after summoning storms and drowning enemies, his body should have been screaming in exhaustion. Instead, he felt… alive. More than alive.

When he looked down, his knuckles were split from gripping Riptide too tight. The cuts should have stung, should have bled red.

But in the moonlight, the blood on his skin shimmered strangely, flecks of gold catching the light. He blinked, rubbed his hand against his shirt - the particles didn’t smear. They glowed faintly, threads of divine ichor tangled with mortal blood. His stomach turned. He wasn’t supposed to have ichor.

He wasn’t a god. Not yet. But the evidence was written in his veins.

Percy staggered, dropping to one knee. His pulse thundered in his ears, too strong, too fast, like the tide crashing against a cliff face. Every heartbeat sent a ripple of warmth through his body - not fire, but something deeper, something primal.

He closed his eyes and could feel the sea miles away, pressing against him, begging for command. He could feel the storm overhead still hovering, not fading, waiting for his call. He could feel the soil, heavy and ancient, humming beneath his palms. And worst of all, he could feel them noticing him back.

The powers of the world - sea, sky, and earth - aware of him, whispering through the marrow of his bones.

A part of him recoiled in horror. This wasn’t what he wanted. He never wanted thrones or power or to be something other than a kid who fought because he had to. He felt sick, like the power was corroding him from the inside. But beneath that sickness was something else. Something dangerous. He felt right.

The gold shimmer spread with every heartbeat. He lifted his hand to his face, and in his veins he could see light pulsing faintly, a lattice of energy threading through his skin. His reflection in the water pooling at his feet didn’t look like him anymore - his eyes burned too bright, his features sharper, almost carved. He looked older, heavier, like the sea had decided to wear his face.

And for the first time, Percy felt a whisper that wasn’t his own voice: Rise.

The ocean said it.

The storm said it.

The earth said it.

He shuddered, gripping his chest as if he could hold himself back, but the warmth was spreading, filling his lungs, his heart, his very soul. He wasn’t just Percy Jackson anymore. He was becoming something else - something the gods should have feared long before this night.

He looked at his golden-streaked blood once more, and instead of dread, he felt a grim clarity. Ascension wasn’t a choice anymore. It was happening. And if the Fates had tried to stop him, their shears would have broken in their hands.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackson needs a hug #percy jackson angst #god percy #god percy jackson #dark percy jackson #thalia grace #nico di angelo #camp half blood

okay so maybe I regret challenging you… you bested me 💔💔💔 thank GOD Leo regularly sets himself on fire because like I cannot handle the alternative 😿 10/10 would read again

the alternative universes always get me

cylinders in the sun - "youth" by daughter

@lenscoat i hope you enjoy reading what i wrote after you told me to "bring it on"

I never stop moving. That’s the trick, right? Keep the hands busy, keep the jokes rolling, keep the forge burning. If I stop, even for a second, the silence catches up. And silence is louder than anything.

The forge flickers around me, shadows crawling up the walls like they’re trying to get out. Tools scattered, half-finished contraptions staring with hollow eyes. They don’t laugh at my jokes, they don’t ask me to sit with them, but at least they’re here. At least they don’t leave.

I spin a gear between my fingers. Shiny, gold, perfect teeth. A little circle, a little wheel. Funny how everything comes back to wheels. Everyone else got paired off, tethered, balanced. And me? Seventh wheel. You can’t build anything with seven. Doesn’t work. You either cut the extra piece away or watch the whole machine break.

They never say it to my face, but I see it in their eyes. Piper with Jason, Annabeth with Percy, Hazel with Frank. Even Nico has someone who cares enough to check if he’s breathing. Me? I’m the one who distracts monsters with a bad pun. The one who falls, gets back up, laughs too loud so they don’t have to look too closely.

You’re hilarious, Valdez.

Man, you’re crazy.

Good ol' Leo. Always good for a laugh.

And then their attention slides off me like water off metal, and I’m just… there. Still spinning. Still burning.

The fire hisses when I drop the gear into it. The metal swallows it whole, eats it like it was never here. I envy that. To disappear so easily. No questions asked.

I wonder sometimes if they’d notice. If tomorrow I didn’t crack a joke, would someone pause? Or would it take days, weeks, until someone finally turned and asked, “Hey, where’s Leo?” By then, maybe I’d be nothing but smoke curling out of the engine room.

Mom used to say fire is a gift. “It warms, it builds, it creates.” She forgot the other half. Fire also destroys. Fire also consumes. She didn’t tell me that it’s impossible to hold flames forever without burning your own hands. I’ve been holding them too long.

I laugh to myself, sharp and hollow. Bet they’d call it irony if the funny guy finally ran out of jokes. The clown who forgot how to smile. That’s comedy gold right there.

The ship creaks above me. I hear footsteps, voices. They’re talking, laughing. Probably planning their futures, their happy endings. I could join them. Walk upstairs, throw myself into the middle of the circle. But I already know how it would go. They’d smile, make room, but the space would never really be mine. I’d always be orbiting. Always the extra. Always spinning on the outside.

I feed another piece of scrap into the forge. Sparks leap up like fireflies, tiny souls escaping into the air. For a second, I imagine them as parts of me, each laugh I ever gave away, flying off to someone else. Maybe that’s all I was good for — burning pieces of myself so everyone else could be warm.

My hands are shaking. Not from fear. Just from… emptiness. Like I’ve been running on fumes too long.

“Leo, you’re too much,” they say.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Stop messing around.”

They don’t mean it cruel. I know that. They don’t see that it cuts anyway. Every laugh they take feels like another gear stripped out of the machine, and I’m running out of replacements.

I close my eyes. The fire hums to me. It doesn’t care if I’m the seventh wheel. It doesn’t ask me to be funny. It doesn’t turn its back. It just opens, wide and endless, promising silence, promising peace.

I step closer. The heat licks at my skin, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe I’ve been burning too long to notice. Maybe this is what I was always meant for - not to shine beside them, but to vanish in a blaze no one remembers until it’s too late.

The forge flares, and for a heartbeat I feel weightless. Like I’m not the outcast, not the joke, not the broken gear. For a heartbeat, I’m light.

And then I let go.

The fire swallows me like it did the gear. No explosion, no spectacle. Just a boy who burned too bright, too fast, and finally went out.

Above deck, the laughter continues.

The ship runs a little colder.

No one notices why.

#leovaldez #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #heroes of olympus #pjo #fluff #leo valdez #leo valdez fluff #angst #leo valdez oneshot #leo valdez angst

you’re so amazing I’m gonna give you a big ol chomp + 10/10 fic + I love all your art + you’re epic + AYAYWYAYSYSGSG

ONG HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS, you are sooo sweet imma cry

hehe i posted fic and tagged you in it...

i will go see now...

bro where are you i miss you 💔

hello im here, you didnt answer my comments🫩 me was busy i did my nails went to be nostalgic about my baby percy and now im watching the show for the first time yall idk

just something i made because he has a special place in my heart, i think i should said this is kinda dedicated to me and @lenscoat cuz she is such a sweetheart and i adore her and her blog

He wasn’t used to quiet.

His head was always buzzing — gears spinning, ideas blooming, fires crackling somewhere behind his eyes. He didn’t mind it, really. It was the noise that made him feel alive, made him feel like he was still burning for a reason.

But lately, he’d been noticing the quiet more. Specifically, the kind that came when you were around.

You weren’t like anyone Leo had ever met. Sure, you’d trained with the rest of them, fought monsters, and earned your scars. But you were the kind of person who walked through the world gently. Not because you were weak — Hades no — but because you chose to be soft in a world that tried every day to make you hard.

And that softness had started to do something strange to Leo.

He remembered the first time he realized it. You were sitting by the forge — of all places — curled up on an old toolbox like it was your personal armchair, reading some battered paperback. The flames lit your face like stained glass, and you’d looked up at him with this smile, calm and amused, like you knew how chaotic his mind was.

Leo had just stood there for a second too long, wrench in hand, and said something absolutely brilliant like, “Uh… whatcha reading?”

You’d laughed. Just that. A small, real laugh.

And Leo had known, even then, that he was in trouble.

⸻

The thing was, Leo had loved before. Or, he thought he had. Calypso had been magic. Literal magic. The kind of girl you crash and burn for. And he had. But time had passed, and life had moved on. And somewhere along the way, they’d both realized their fire didn’t burn in the same direction anymore.

But you—you didn’t feel like fire.

You felt like hearth.

Like a place to come back to.

⸻

It didn’t help that you kept showing up at the forge with snacks and tea and that damn soft smile. You’d sit there while he worked, sometimes talking, sometimes just being, and Leo would forget to breathe.

Sometimes you’d hand him a water bottle without him asking. Or remind him to take a break. Or fix his hair when it got in his eyes. And every time, his heart stuttered like a misfired engine.

Gods, he was so screwed.

⸻

He didn’t tell anyone, of course. Not Jason. Not Piper. Not even Nico - who would’ve probably seen right through him and judged him silently while sipping his macabre tea. Leo kept it to himself. His little secret. This slow-burning thing in his chest.

But he started building you things.

Nothing big. Nothing obvious. A better grip for your sword handle. A shield charm disguised as a necklace. A tiny mechanical owl that followed you around camp and chirped in approval every time you smiled.

You thanked him every time, with your usual quiet warmth, and he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal.

It was a big deal.

You were a big deal.

⸻

The moment it all fell into place — really fell into place — came after a mission gone wrong. You and Leo had been separated from the rest of the team, stuck in some cave in Colorado after a monster had collapsed the exit. Leo was injured — his leg torn up bad from some debris — and you’d barely managed to drag him behind a rock out of sight.

He’d been shaking, more from shock than pain. You had your arms wrapped around him, warm and solid, whispering reassurances even as your own voice trembled.

“I got you, Leo. Just breathe. You’re gonna be okay.”

Leo hadn’t said anything at first. He couldn’t. Your hand was in his hair, grounding him, your cheek pressed against his temple. There were tears in your eyes, but you didn’t stop holding him like he mattered. Like he was someone worth crying over.

“Why do you care so much?” he rasped, before he could stop himself. “I’m just… me.”

You pulled back to look at him, your expression fierce and unwavering. “You’re Leo Valdez. And I care because you matter. You matter to me.”

Something inside him broke open.

Not like an explosion. Not like fire.

Like light coming through a crack in the wall.

⸻

You kissed him first, days later, after you were both safely back at camp. He was rambling about a new invention, nervous and scatterbrained, and you just leaned in and kissed him mid-sentence.

He stopped talking.

“Sorry,” you said, voice soft. “Was that okay?”

Leo blinked, flushed red from his neck to his ears, then grinned like the sun. “Yeah. That was… way better than okay.”

⸻

From then on, he didn’t try to hide it. He still built you things — more than ever now. Mechanical flowers that bloomed with your favorite scent. Little notes etched into copper panels hidden in your cabin. A heating charm for your boots because you always complained about cold toes in the morning.

And you?

You brought the quiet with you. The kind that settled deep in his bones. The kind that let him rest.

For the first time in his life, Leo didn’t feel like he was burning out just to keep warm.

Because now, he had you.

And that warmth was more than enough.