Listen... Percy. I'm Sorry.

clarisse's actress is beautiful and while i do wish she was butch or more masc presenting, in some ways i actually like this better for her overall characterization because it brings more validity to the fact that she desperately wants her fathers love but she is not her father's son and so she'll never be enough for him, because she's not big and strong looking or gruff, she is everything she hates.

Like yes, im sorta sad she wasn't cast plus size and masc like how she was coded in the books. But having her be the antithesis of what Ares would value makes her being a bully and so angry and so desperate to prove herself that much more compelling

So, I’ve just read the new chapter of this fic that I love and I’ve been bawling my eyes out. The non-linear process of healing and learning how to accept love even if you don’t feel deserving of it hits so close to home.

7th poem is from @halfof-mysoul !

they say 'wya?' and i say im in my delulu era and miles morales is responsible. thank you so much for the serotonin boost bc what the fuck. this is amazing. this part particularly got me giggling my feet:

📌 "Sorry for taking so long babe," he grinned, bending down to place a kiss just below his drawing before looking up at you almost sheepishly.

your writing style is amazing, hello? i can picture miles *doing* that. i can picture his soft smile in this paragraph alone too:

📌He wasn't even thinking of his drawing anymore as he watched you, being adorable as ever. He was going to add that no drawing of his would be more art than you were.

ajsjsdb thank you for sharing your craft to the internet. this is amazing ❤️

none would be more art than you || miles morales

"You know you have like a hundred notebooks that aren't even filled yet."

You groaned, glancing at Miles who had a marker in one hand, and the other gently holding your arm still.

It was a free period and you decided to hangout at some random corner. One thing led to another, a pack of colored markers were pulled out of seemingly nowhere, and now you were a human canvas. 

"Don't move," he hissed. 

"You're gonna mess it up."

He said this without even looking up at you, eyes dead focused on whatever he was drawing on your upper arm. 

If your arm wasn't starting to tingle you would have giggled as the tip of his tongue peaked out of the corner of his lip.

"Miles my arm is gonna fall asleep," you complained, despite your free arm moving to hold up your sleeve so it wouldn't get in his way.

"Let it, it might be tired," is all he responded with as he switched out his marker for another color.

"Fine, just hurry up."

Minutes passed and so did markers, and Miles was finally capping the last one and putting it back in its box.

"Okay, it's done," he flourished his hand before beginning to rub up and down your arm gently to get the blood flowing once more. Of course while avoiding his new art piece. 

"Sorry for taking so long babe," he grinned, bending down to place a kiss just below his drawing before looking up at you almost sheepishly.

The skin of your cheeks went hot at the action, making you smile back at him.

"You only get a pass because I think you're cute," your finger tapped his nose, now making his skin go hot. 

"Lemme see it now," you moved your arm, angling it up towards your head so you could finally see what was so important he couldn't let you stretch.

It was worth it. 

The drawing was of your names. Yours and his intertwined in a mix of bubble letters and cursive, with splashes of color spread out behind it, your favorites and his. In the middle of it all  were two silhouettes, and it was enough to make you swoon.

"Awww, this is so cute, ligaya," you smiled, moving your arm around to get better angles of it, and he chuckled at your compliments, smiling along with you.

"You kinda half branded me like a whore, but it's still cute," you teased, locking eyes with him, making his flustered expression morph playfully into one of annoyance.

"Oh, shut up, he pushed your forehead with two fingers, making you laugh.

"I'm glad you like it. I'm trying to mix some stuff up."

"I love it," you corrected, making him smile even wider.

"I'm gonna feel so bad when this comes off in the shower, quick snap a picture," you tell him, already fixing your hair and turning to the side so he could get a good angle of you and the drawing.

"Okay, okay, gimme a sec," he dug into his pocket to grab his phone. Adjusting it just enough so that the lighting around you perfectly highlighted you and his drawing. But mostly you.

"Okay, ready," he promoted, and you began giving him various poses.

There was one of you slightly glaring at the camera in a poor attempt of looking fierce. One of you with a wide smile, cheek on your shoulder as you pointed happily at the piece. And another of you pretending to lick it off.

Miles laughed heartily as you posed your heart out, happily clicking away on his phone. He didn't care if the memory got full, you were worth it.

The laughs continued until you were slightly out of breath, hair now out of place from your constant moving. You sat there smiling softly as you caught your breath, looking fondly down at your names.

Things had gone quiet, so much so that you glanced up to catch the boy you loved looking at you with an almost distant look in his eye.

"What?" You quirked a brow, suddenly getting a bit self conscious at how he just stared.

 "Do I look bad?" You straightened up in your seat .

"Is it the lighting? I can move if you wa-," you were saying, beginning to stand up before Miles stopped you.

"No, no, no," he shook his head, putting his phone to the side and gently pulling you back down to sit.

"It's perfect," he assured you.

 "You're perfect," he whispered, and you were flustered all over again. You were unable to speak, but he didn't mind. He continued to look at you with a look you realized wasn't distant, but dreamy.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he inched closer to you, till you were one movement apart.

"Miles," you swooned, gaze flicking down to his lips.

"But you're also really weird though," he added, making your half lidded eyes turn into a glare.

"Fuck you," you pulled away from him, looking away with a pout on your face. This made him laugh, and he pulled out his phone once more.

More laughing ensued as he began snapping pictures of you pouting and swatting him away. Empty threats flew from your lips as he continued on. 

He wasn't even thinking of his drawing anymore as he watched you, being adorable as ever. He was going to add that no drawing of his would be more art than you were.

But he already was cheesy enough for the day. He'd tell you next time.

"What is it?" I asked. "The prophecy?"

"I’m sure it’s fine," she said in a small voice.

"What was the last line?"

Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning my stomach into a mosh pit.

___

percabeth x taylor swift & pencap-poetry

happy new years!

Have you heard of the boy who held kindness close even though anger is an option?

I have.

His eyes contained the forests that hold our life; green and nature-blessed. And, his hair remains grown, messily arranged — it contains memories, not so kind, but hopeful to the eye. The base of his cheeks are four-leaved clovers: luck, pure luck has brought him here.

I have known of him.

I have known of him. His sense of a squirrel. As they plant trees with their acorns in the soil. As he does good with anger burning in the air. As he cries, with his head upon my shoulder. Cheeks dampening the side of my shirt.

I have known.

I have known his kind smile (not forced, never forced) and I see his lips fumble, fumbling, upon the overwhelming comfort.

Stupid, stupid man. The world does not deserve his kindness, they do not deserve him, and his sense of a squirrel, and his hopeful eyes to a trivial, humane need such as comfort.

Whatever labour they have done, they brought upon this man. Of good and gold. Of nature and luck. Of peace, never-ending peace.

Of kindness over anger.

I am back on my daily thoughts about Palestine and Congo and Sudan and Armenia and many, many other countries who have been stripped from their human rights and freedom.

Think about them. Think about them always and forever, they are experiencing something that we thought happens only in history. They are being written in history right now, the names you see is just the surface, there are still people in those lands. Millions and they are dying.

Post and repost about them, don't be ashamed.

BUT IF THEY CEASE TO EXIST THEN THE WHOLE FOUR SEASONS NEVER HAPPENED???????

the ache of nostalgia

I would like to kiss the sky.