#but meh
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Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.
Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.
He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.
Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.
He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.
Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.
---
Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.
They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.
He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.
He hated them.
He hated them so much.
The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.
It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.
It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.
It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.
A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.
It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.
When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.
He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.
And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.
It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.
He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.
So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.
Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.
He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.
But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.
He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.
There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.
His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.
'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.
The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.
He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.
In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.
He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.
A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.
They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.
And that's what he did.
It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.
His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.
It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.
A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.
Alfred Pennyworth.
It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.
He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.
Until Afred said we were going home.
We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.
Home.
Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.
Home.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dp dc#dp dc crossover#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#dc x dp crossover#Danny has a scythe and isn't afraid to use it on anyone who even breaths wrong in Alfred's presence.#He also doesn't like meeting other people so he just turns invisible#So you probably wouldn't even know what killed you tbh.#Will Danny be brought out of his shell by the combined efforts of the batfamily?#Probably#Alfred saw a child in an alleyway while on vacation and pulled a Bruce Wayne.#Danny wants to be a butler because Alfred is a butler and he wants to be more like Alfred.#honestly I should be sleeping not making this idea#But MEH#Me tired so I slep now byebye gamers
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Magical hair.
#fee art#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#future!mikey#not satisfied with the eyes#but meh#it's fine#XD
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More Hazbin animal headcanons with little to no explanation:
Husk:
cannot see glass
cannot see things close up very well but has excellent vision for things far away
will chase light reflections on the wall. Angel thinks this is hilarious. They don't speak of it.
hates when people stick things near his face bc whiskers (they're sensitive)
zoomies at 3 am
takes forever in the bathroom (both cats and birds spend a lot of time grooming themselves)
expressive tail and ears!
expressive feathers!
loves to be petted but would never admit it, esp on his head/back of his neck
can't taste sugar
scratches the furniture
Angel Dust:
Very good spatial awareness
good at knitting/weaving/other textile arts
very strong for his size
i don't actually know much about spiders. Venom, maybe?
can jump very high/far
Sir Pentious:
Uses his tongue to smell
cold blooded! loves to lounge in warm, sunny areas
sheds skin
looks like he's a cobra so venomous
can sense vibrations but also cannot hear very well
hates stairs
no eyelids
sleeps when it's cold
Alastor:
surprisingly stealthy
very good night vision
blinded by bright lights
secretly likes being around people
very good senses; hearing, smell, etc
flight/freeze response
expressive ears (loved seeing his ears move around on the show!)
+BONUS Valentino:
his eyes are shit and he eats his clothes
#hazbin hotel#headcanons#this is mostly silly#just stuff off the top of my head#but meh#husk#angel#sir pentious#alastor#valentino
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Road trip (Vee and Camilla are in the front seats <3 )
#my art#fanart#strawberridraws#the owl house#toh#the owl house fanart#toh fanart#hexsquad#I love them sm#idk how to feel about the coloring of this tbh#but meh
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showered, getting sleepy + entering chilling mode, and now 'm somehow fighting the urge to ramble + shitpost abt yandere santa, dilf ver. 🥴
#godnectar#nectar's rambling#dilf ver. bc all of my yan men gotta be hot ofc#and big#and pretty#I ain't writing about yan infant#but would surely do about a non-existent and old and bearded and sweet man 👌#anyways–#maybe this is just me and my brain going stupidly brrr#but meh#might do if I feel dumb dumb for Christmas#or sooner idk#gonna also search for some nice fanart to post after this#so this silly shitpost gets looked over and ignored or sum 🤙
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idk if you have already written this since im a new follower but i was wondering if you can write where bimbo!reader puts on the ghostface mask with like sexy lingerie and ethan EATS IT UP.
i love your writing sm! and i understand if you dont wanna write this :) i literally cant get enough of your stories lol
a) thank you for following me and appreciating my work !! b) i would love to write this for you *rubs hands together* no smut i'm lazy
When Ethan walks into his room to see you holding a white mask in your hands, his heart rate immediately increases. He pauses in the doorway, his hand still wrapped around the knob, one foot inside of the room and the other out.
He's about to speak, maybe play it off and pretend the mask doesn't hold any significance to him, or tell you that it's not what it looks like. You speak before him.
Your head lifts, your lips in a pout, when you say, "You had one this whole time? And you didn't tell me?"
Ethan, completely confused, steps into the bedroom and lets the door swing closed behind him. He looks over you, noticing how you're only wearing his hoodie and a pair of boots. You both were supposed to be getting ready for the frat party that Chad was insisting Ethan go to tonight, something about getting the true freshmen in college experience. Of course, Ethan couldn't go without his girlfriend, which made Chad even happier as he not so subtly insinuated that Ethan should get laid tonight.
But you didn't look party ready, save for from your neck up.
He licks his lips and approaches you. "What're you talking about?"
You hold the Ghostface mask up directly beside you, your free hand singling out a pointer finger to point at the mask. "The mask, Ethan!" you say like it's completely obvious. Ethan's starting to think that it is obvious, and he's just not picking up on it. His throat gets a little dry, and his eyes get shifty.
He's thinking of something to say but again, you beat him to it. "You knew I was looking for one for Halloween. For tonight!"
Oh yeah. That.
Ethan did know that, but he was so enamored by your nails clacking along your keyboard and the way your new perfume smelled and the way your glossed lips parted as your perfect teeth smacked on your minty gum. You were overwhelming his senses, so he could barely focus on your smooth voice detailing your Halloween costume options.
"Shit, 'm sorry. I didn't know about that." Lie. He reaches out to splay his hands over your waist to cover up how horrible he is at lying. "Maybe next year?"
You lean into his touch, but your head tilts as if you're not understanding him. "I can wear it this year, too."
Ethan watches as your hands reach down to the hoodie, pulling it over your head carefully as to not drop the mask. His brain short circuits as he sees what you're wearing.
It's barely anything. Mostly because you're not wearing actual clothes, just a set of lingerie that Ethan hasn't seen before, most likely a new purchase.
"See this is what I was gonna wear, E," you say it through a pout but the words barely meet Ethan's ears. He's too busy staring at your soft skin, the way your tits sit in the bra, the way your thighs look, the way the panties hug your hips.
You're still talking, but Ethan's hands are already back on your waist and trailing down to your hips.
"Well I wasn't going to wear just this. I didn't wanna look like a total slut. So I have a little skirt I was gonna wear. You know the tiny one that almost shows my ass? Ethan?"
He hums, letting you repeat the last of your sentence. "Mhm," he says when you finish, the noise acting enough as affirmation for you to continue.
"Would that look cute with this? What'd you think?" He doesn't answer. "Ethan."
"Baby, I'm sorry. But I'm not listening to anything you're saying right now."
The admission makes you heat up, not from anger but from the opposite. Knowing that Ethan is always listening to you, and the only reason why he's not right now is because you're distracting him with your figure, makes you feel a little giddy inside.
"Do you like it?" Your voice is soft, your eyes the same. He nods, licking his lips and pulling you close enough that you can feel the bulge forming in his pants.
"Yeah?" you ask.
"Yeah."
"Sure it's not too much?"
Ethan's leaning down now, his hands circling around your back, obviously itching to grip your ass. You push yourself against him, free hand resting on his forearm, giving it a little push as a go-ahead.
"Not too much at all." His hand finally inches down and he takes one of your almost-bare asscheeks in his palm, squeezing it before smacking it.
You giggle, your head knocking against his chest. Ethan lifts one hand to encourage your head to leave his chest only so he can kiss you once, twice, thrice, then one more that's longer, a little more heated, but he wills himself away.
"Can you put the mask on for me?"
Your eyes are staring up at him, so big and wide, you're clearly eager to please, hence why you don't question it and instead nod, leaning up to kiss him one more time before you're pulling the mask over your head, prepared for whatever Ethan has planned.
#Proof read ☒#smut could've existed here#but meh#ethansworld!#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x you#ethan landry#scream 6
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So like I’ve been thinking a lot about Bad’s lore, especially from the stream earlier this week:
Imagine Dapper waking up in the middle of the night, the nightmares that plague her mind about the months she had to spend in the forest and at egg island. The things she had to do in order for her siblings to survive, in order for them to see their parents once again. The way she had to find comfort in the audio recordings of Bad’s voice singing ’You are my sunshine’
The idea of never hearing his voice again in person.
Imagine waking up from that to see his father gone. It’s terrifying, he’s in a new place, a place that’s not secure, a place that’s filled with new mobs, a place where he has no good protection to keep him safe. The thought of losing her dad like that, it’s horrifying.
Imagine her rushing out of bed, barely putting on her boots and checking the farms. Checking her makeshift kitchen outside. Checking the storage room downstairs. Next thing she knows, he’s climbing to the roof of her house, tears streaming down her face as she looks through her eyeglass, looking over the vast ocean, the pirate ship catching an ounce of warm orange glow as the sun crept in, waiting to see that familiar demon coming to embrace her with open arms.
And nothing, just an empty flower field. Purples and pinks. Not him, not him. As the sun appeared over the horizon, so did a figure. She nearly thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Nearly mistaking the silhouette for the crane walking by in the early morning sun.
Feeling defeated, he slowly climbed down from the roof. Suddenly, she spots movement in the corner of her eye. His head nearly giving him whiplash as his eyeglass darted towards it.
A flowing black coat trailing behind, the oh so familiar white eyes, the long elegant tail that always swished gently across the grass.
Imagine Dapper leaping for joy and feeling relieved as her anxieties melt away. Leaping towards her father’s arm.
Only for him to stare at the child. A glossy dazed look glued onto his supposedly cheerful expression. Half of his face looking like he was splashed with light blue iridescent paint with a matching backside.
Imagine the fear that sunk into her heart as he heard his father’s voice confidently speaking-
“I’m looking for my son, Dapper. Have you seen him?”
Don’t imagine the one silent tear trail down her face, her anxieties slowly being brought into fruition.
Her nightmares no longer dreams, but a slow decent into reality.
‘It’s me! Your son!’ Her hands shook as she held up her sign.
Please don’t forget me-
#qsmp dapper#qsmp badboyhalo#qsmp angst#qsmp fanfiction#does this count?#bloo’s writing#I couldn’t sleep#and instead of trying I wrote this lmaooo#qsmp eggs#qsmp bbh#it’s short#but meh#it works lol#qsmp
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Literally the only thing making me not kill myself rn is y'all
I am not having it
STOP BEING NICE
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Random detail in Nimona I recognized:
In the beginning, Ballister sees no problem in calling Nimona a "monster". Because he was taught hat it was fine to use it, he was taught that it is a trait that must be called out.
But as the movie goes on, he loses it. Especially in the last argument, where Nimona dares him to say it. He learnt that it is a slur, that it is not okay to describe someone like that. And so, he does not say it. Even when dared to and in the heat of the moment, he realized a mistake in his past and his refusal to rturn to the former mentality is gorgeous.
#nimona movie#nimona#ballister boldheart#also small ramble#i could ramble on about something that happened in my personal life through this movie#but meh#lifechanging movie in all aspects
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Dick: Damn, Jay, you could kill a man with those thighs.
Jason: I have, actually.
Dick:...
Dick: Oh.
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Was helping my partner earlier today with finding references/inspiration and it made me want to draw Gaster again
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Shade of Despair and personification of War.
Pariah Dark only knew war.
Throughout both life and death, was he hardened by it. The thrill of battle, the whirlwind of blood and steel, the sound of metal clashing against metal and sheer satisfaction at the end of it all.
He was among the first, the very few that came with the expanse of the infinite itself. He belongs to it, and it laid an inexplicable claim upon him and the others that were born with him.
He did not know much, then. But he knew he had a purpose, one that called for something, something that laid out of reach for himself then, and not something he could've gotten from the infinite at that moment.
They were not connected to each other, despite coming into existence at roughly the same time. They had their purposes, and they fulfilled them, for at that moment they knew they only existed that singular purpose alone.
Except, he didn't.
So he left.
He was 'alive' in a rough sense of the word. He was not birthed, thrust into life as so many that came before and shaped the infinite from their beliefs. Yet he walked among them all the same.
He searched for his purpose, not understanding humanity's many values and woes, how they could live their lives without having a predetermined purpose of their own, yet he found himself feeling just the tiniest of similarity to the mortals, for they did not know their purpose.
So did he.
Then, he chanced upon it.
War.
It called to him, sang its sweet and bloody call of despair and hope to his ears, throughout his body, circling around his core and suddenly he saw it, knew it.
His purpose.
He sang the song of war, furthering its melodies and corralling others to be entranced and caught in its endless web.
He sang its song throughout all walks of life, as a peasant, a humble farmer, a hardened soldier, a noble, a king, a warlord, the child of a god to some, and a living god to others.
It did not matter what he was at that very moment, he heard its call and sang its melodies until it came to its end, then moving onto the next.
He was a blade crafted for war, hardened through its many battles and carelessly soaked in the blood of many and being one of many molded to its sweet song until he could be called a masterpiece.
Then it came to an end.
He was a fool, who believed that war would never end so long as he remained, so long as humans craved conflict.
But it did, and it left him confused, and surprised.
Humans found peace with each other. Something he never thought possible, something he didn't believe could be possible, but they reached for it, longed for it, and managed to obtain it.
He was not pleased.
There were only so many small skirmishes he could partake in before his hunger turned insatiable. He could sing its song, but with no others to join it could only last for a moment before ending as it began.
This. This was not something he expected, not something he could wrap his mind around.
Humanity lived it, breathed it, bestowed the secrets and his purpose upon him.
So how could they suddenly just stop as if it were no longer important? As if it were not just a part of themselves, something to satisfy and tame their ever-growing hunger and bloodlust?
Just as he left for the finite in the long before, he found himself roaming back to the infinite.
He came face to face with one of the first, Time itself. They were not enemies, nor were they friends, but they had an illusion of a link, of being among the first, what humans would call an 'old friend.'
Just as quickly and suddenly as time made itself known, so to, did it slip from his grasp.
What he saw from the infinite was not pleasing, nor did it leave him with a sense of dissatisfaction of any kind.
It just was.
They were much more than the first few, souls coming and out from the mortal plain, ghosts that formed from the infinite itself. Many upon many.
There was no order, perhaps an illusion of it, but an illusion it was nonetheless.
Just as the humans gave him war, did he bestow upon his home its sweet song.
He was conflict, he was bloodshed, he was the blade forged for, and perfected through war.
He was war's manifestation, and Fear became his tool, friend, and ally all in one.
Humanity bestowed upon him war, and he shall return their gift by reigniting its flame that went out inside each and every one of them by crushing that ideal of peace and make them descend back into the savagery and bloodshed of war.
He was war, and not all shared his ideals.
The fools, who dared to challenge and prevent him from fulfilling his purpose. He was created for it, hardened by it, perfect through blood and despair.
Despite it all, he failed.
His punishment being sent to sleep eternal until he could cease what he was created for.
He never did, and such he was never free.
Until a not quite ghost set him free, seeking to claim his power for his own. Yet his purpose, his ideal, never changed. He called upon Fear, who always accompanied him throughout, and he called upon the endless army in service.
And waged war.
He was conflict, he was bloodshed, he was a blade forged for and perfected through war. Crafted by the infinite and shaped by the finite.
He was war, and faced to face with a not quite ghost who pushed for the ideal of peace, the thing that robbed him of his purpose, the enemy of his ideal.
They clashed, and he found himself losing.
Yet he could not find it displeasing, just as the battle with the Ancients, it gave him pleasure to clash against someone who sought to challenge his ideal.
The fight did not give him as much satisfaction as that of the Ancients, where he pushed himself past his limits, drawn strength deeper and deeper from his core, straining his reflexes to combat that of six against one that sent thrills throughout him.
But it satisfied him, nonetheless.
He was conflict, the spiller of blood and the personification of War and one of the many shades of Despair.
He was War, a part of Despair, challenged by a boy who called for the song of hope and peace.
His loss paved the way for it, and the familiarity of eternal slumber embraced him once more.
#danny phantom#pariah dark#dp clockwork#vlad plasmius#I am not looking this over for any errors#Anyways#I didn't know what made me what to write sum like this#I just did lol#A piece for Pariah Dark#Although it DID cross my mind of if I should add a hint of Dark Ages or not#But meh#So Phandom#Have this I suppose
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"you are challenged by the interceptors"
#pkmn rejuv#pokemon rejuvenation#pkmn rejuvenation#pokemon rejuv#KArts#''you're missing Ana!''#...yes...yes. i did...#Aevia's pose look too strong for someone whose theme is ''tranquility''#but meh#idk. like. while i editing. i keep thinking about my own OC thus why i use this pose for her#Edit: oh no. That Aevia's sprite kinda missing st
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Hello Abbey 👋
I'm curious, what are your thoughts about the Brains and Brawn duo ? 💙❤️
I uhm...
Brains and Brawn are Donnie and Raph, right? But your blue and red hearts confuse me so I'll just answer both
I like brains and Brawn. I loved when Donnie said I love you because Raph basically encouraged to just test out his flying taxi. I also loved that Raph was very considerate in the film by telling Donnie it was a rescue and not a big although I doubt Donnie would think Raph would go and hug him while he was falling down to earth but who knows.
Leo and Raph... hmm...I get them. Raph wanting so badly to protect his siblings and Leo definitely not feeling ready to be a leader. In hindsight (since I saw the film first)
I feel like it's kind of odd of Raph to just punch hole in Leo's room. I just feel like he'd just get mad at him like when he ate those pizza puffs? Eh I've never been good at analysing or remembering things so maybe he punched Leo in the series 😆
Wait... I'm letting my train of thoughts take over my writing.
Anyway I like them but once again...not. enough. Duo moments!!
Also... Leo and Raph duo name? Been talking about it on discord and slush puppies was one of the options and I really like it because it's cute af 🥺
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I see Eddie surviving, putting out a few records & then deciding to form his own music company.
Coming back to Hawkins, rich and successful.
#eddie munson#edward munson#stranger things#joe quinn#joseph guinn#hellfire club#i still love him#yes this is crap#but meh
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It's so funny seeing people people joke about reading TLH and found "Where's Percy??? Who's this Jason guy???"
Cause that was not my thought process when started HOO
I went in thinking "Oh! Percy will be a background leader type character like Firestar was! :D" (because, despite people joking about it, Firestar really was just leading his clan after the first arc. He was not getting dragged into prophecies left and right until right before his death)
I was wrong of course- but I was going in use to different protagonists each series. especially in the dynamic Rick wrote HOO in versus how he wrote pjo.
You know what I WAS thinking for a good bit there before it became bluntly obvious he was a son of Jupiter/Roman.
I was considering the theory that Jason was a monster that had his mind wiped for some reason? Like that Couch Hedge was suspicious of him because of that but Jason just didn't know about his background or anything.
I even was like "oh, could he be one of those wind spirit things their fighting???" When he start flying during that fight and all that...
Yeah. That was my thought process. Let me tell you I was not bored with Jason's first few chapters, whether it was because of that or just in general I couldn't tell you.
Anyway. I'll defend my boy to this day.
#mine#pain rambles#pjo jason#jason grace#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo#pjo fandom#seriously tho#10-11 year old me was INVESTED#i found Piper's first few chapters the most boring ngl#idk why i just couldn't click with her#both her and Jason weren't met to their true potential#but still love them#also...unpopular opinion but i don't think Percy needed to be a main character again#it was fine#but him in the background as a leader would've been interesting#of course i cling to a background character from pjo should've taken his place in hoo#but meh
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