creedtype



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  1. Public Bookmark 4

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    There's a particular kind of quiet in the Curtis house — the kind that lives in folded laundry, in candles lit during blackouts, in a fifteen-year-old boy who starves himself so his brothers can eat and never says a word about it.

    Ponyboy has always known how to carry weight without complaining, how to make the dark beautiful, how to let cruel words slide off his back like rain off a tin roof. But there's a difference between surviving and being seen, and nobody's quite figured out where that line falls yet. When Darry finally does — really, truly does — it won't be with fists or fire. It'll be with soup. And a hand on the back of a neck. And the terrifying, tender realization that the softest things in this world are sometimes the strongest.

    (The lot talks. The kitchen listens. And somewhere between the two, a family learns what it actually means to carry each other.)

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  2. Public Bookmark *

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  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “What do you think of the Waynes?” Percy had asked Annabeth the week before. “Seems like they’re in Gotham’s headlines all the time, and not always for great reasons. You think they’re involved with the mob or something?”

    “The opposite, actually,” Annabeth had replied, a wry smile on her face.

    “What’s the opposite of the mob?”

    “In Gotham? What do you think?”

    Percy’s eyes had widened. “No. No way. Bruce Wayne is such a goof, there’s no way--,”

    “Wouldn’t that be the best cover, though?”

    ***

    Poseidon once told Percy he was his favorite son.

    But he's not the only one.

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  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “What is it?” Grover asks, “What’s with that weird look on your face?”

    “Just trying to figure out if turning me in will get us enough bounty money to buy our way to LA.” Percy says, craning his neck towards the news van.

    “We are not turning you in to the police.” Grover presses his head back into the alleyway.

    “Why not?” Percy says. They could use a bit of cash. “You guys can just break me out afterwards, right?”

    Annabeth looks like she’s considering it.

    “No, guys,” Grover says. “No.”


    If Percy has to spend the rest of his life cleaning up after the gods, then he might as well start from the beginning.

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  5. Public Bookmark *

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    How is it even possible that Harry falls into another dimension where nobody knows who he is, and winds up attending Hogwarts as Harry Grindelwald, great-grandson of the Dark Lord?

    Balthilda, still living somewhere in the 19th century, said: “This is my nephew, G-”
    “Harry!”
    “-Grindelwald,” Balthilda finished, smiling pleasantly, if vacantly, at her neighbours. The Montgomerys stared. Harry turned his smile up brighter, reaching over the garden fence to shake Mr. Montgomery’s hand.
    “Just Harry is fine.”

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