“My Story Has So Much Gay Rep In It!” Awesome. How Are You Treating Your Female Characters Btw

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percy and annabeth heal each other btw,

annabeth being disconnected from the human world and helping percy with the mythical one.

VS

percy helping annabeth reconnect with her humanity because that's what he's known most his life.

A Thief's Only Enemy

(BASED ON OPLA!Nami) cross-posted on ao3 !!

Nami, the trees whisper. Its tangerine drops against the soil like a ripple in the sea. She remembers the wind passing by the orchard, the dots of tangerines in the horizon, the smell of citrus making every air she breathed worthed and sour. 

Her tongue catches the taste. Her words become citrus. 

Once and now, the trees would whisper her name. Nami, Nami, Nami— our daughter, look at the curiosity—She doesn’t know what that means. Quite frankly, Nami doesn’t recall a memory that whispered her name the way the tangerine trees would. She couldn’t remember what it had meant, what it had sounded like. She couldn’t remember the significance of names. Of course, the significance of names other than Mom, and Nojiko. 

Nojiko, who is her sister, (who isn’t her sister), whose skin reaches more than a tree’s roots, underneath the soil, nurturing and caring. Who had held her, who squeezed her tighter, closer, protectively when Belle-Mere had found them. 

Then, there was her mother, oh, sweet mother. Who had said “I just knew” undoubtedly, who had been the first one to answer her questions truthfully, who had left her knowing that she and Nojiko were loved. 

(This is what life first stole: her name. It is buried until Nojiko and Belle-Mere latches themselves in her heart. They make a home there. They pump her blood and provide for her. This is what life first stole: when the home is in flames and the trees rots—when her mother fell with her skull-cracked, blood spilling between the gaps of wood, the soil carries her sacrifice. The village carries her body, they dig beside a wide tree of tangerines, they place her there. She is buried there. With a piece of Nami and Nojiko ever-beating love for each other.)

You are my daughters, I will not deny that. Nami remembers, she remembers many things. She remembers Arlong’s stupid gun, his stupid smile. She remembers Nojiko’s spiteful look when she left with Arlong. She remembers the way her sister’s blue hair reflected the emotions she felt. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: the tranquillity and war of sisterhood. She thought of the consequences because her mother had told them to be as strong as boys, and that, if they survived, good times will come. Nami knew—you see, she was a thief, then and now, thievery is mixed up with trickery—that her village would not survive Arlong’s grasp. He is a fishmen, no human in their village could deny that they were scarred with his ever-growing laughter the moment he claimed them. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she would take back: sisterhood.)

Nojiko’s hair never went past its original length, she still looks like her sister: Nami’s sister. 

Arlong’s tattoo says otherwise. She would breathe in, her hands were bruised from labour. She used to love the lines that curve to make the islands, cartography offered newness other than the mundane shackles around her once soil-covered ankles. Nesh tears pickled her citrus-covered face, her hair would be dried. She would hug her chest, carry the weight of the knowledge she possessed. 

(This is what life stole from her: freedom. The ability to breathe the citrus air, or the raw wind against her skin. Of course, Nami would grow out those shackles, she knew, her mother had told her and Nojiko that their bodies were not meant to stay in this shape. She had known that she would not stay in this vessel of a tiny girl. Yet, she could not bring herself to hope. To hope that she would live one. This is what life stole from her: freedom. The freedom to make friends. The freedom to have ridiculous hope). 

Nami grew. She had to. For Coco Village. For Nojiko. For her mother. She had to. She learned how to keep her hair the same shape, she learned to observe the sky while slipping berries out of a stranger’s pockets. She learned the meaning of her name from a stolen book, how reflecting her eyes could be in the ocean. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: a life surrounded with fishmen that would go after her, wherever she went. And she had all but herself to blame, the moment her foot made contact with the wooden floor, the moment she had blurted out that she wanted to join. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she thinks she would never get back: a life she calls her own.) 

(my thoughts are always on the tags!!) ♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

right person, wrong time (variations on heartbreak)

@leemartenspoetry on tumblr

vita sackville-west & fegan’s 1924 café in dublin

everything everywhere all at once (2022)

@heavensghost on tumblr

i had to get out by indigo de souza

‘calling a wolf a wolf' by kaveh akbar

river by joni mitchell

‘english song’ in a little larger than the entire universe: selected poems by fernando pessoa

slumber by ron hicks

fish in exile by vi khi nao

penitent magdalene by antonio ciseri

@ojibwa on tumblr

this is what the drugs are for by gracie abrams & the awakening by angelo morbelli

as good as it gets by fizz

lonely this christmas by mud & picture of the christmas tree at trinity college dublin, taken by me in december of 2022

this is what the drugs are for by gracie abrams & picture by andrew collins via globalnews.ca

@inanotherunivrs on tumblr & a polaroid of me taken by my ex-boyfriend

‘in a dream you saw a way to survive’ by clementine von radics & a picture of my ex-boyfriend's window, taken by me

bluets by maggie nelson & the poolbeg generating station, dublin

‘unrequited’ by sasha m george & inheritance by matthew w. cornell

[unknown]

@ faraway on instagram & lavender sprigs farm cut by linda jacobus

the museum of heartbreak by meg leder

[unknown]

‘seaside improvisation’ by richard siken

@ dracarysgang on twitter

@-love-letters-i-never-sent

@fromdarzaitoleeza on tumblr

explosions by ellie goulding

‘i had a dream about you’ by richard siken

the beatrice letters by lemony snicket

la la land (2016)

‘catalog of unabashed gratitude’ by ross gay

@stuckinapril on tumblr

@deathlywounded on tumblr

some are always hungry by jihyun yun

‘speaking practice’ by franny choi

 a self-portrait in letters by anna sexton & a picture of my ex-boyfriend in a lake in Orfű, Hungary

@sunsbleeding on tumblr

‘there is no absolution for the fallen, only the dying’ by p.d

this or lesbian rhaenyra.

rhaenyra and her gender one of the most interesting things to talk about for real

Saleh Aljafarawi

FUCK. You know what hits hard. Luke being the first words of comfort Percy hears at camp. Sure, Chiron was with him and led him around camp, but their conversation felt more like losing hope for Percy. And then he get to Hermes' cabin and he is so ready for a fight, but instead he gets a warm welcome from Luke. AND THAT FUCKING HURTS OK.