Little first years at the sorting ceremony, the sorting hat whispering in their ear “It’ll get better. Just wait. I know who you really are.” as their toes curl, because they know. They know.
They come out in like year five or six, and they change dorms, and all the people in their new dorm accept them.
Maybe they loan them hairs for polyjuice elixir, so they can try transitioning.
FtM’s getting magical binders that gives them the physical relief and feeling of not binding but the physical appearance of a flat chest.
MtF’s getting magical bras that give the appearance of breasts but doesn’t give them neck pains like breastplates.
And they change their name and pronouns, and all the forms magically change to fit their gender, people get little magic reminders when they misgender them.
Madam Pomfrey gives them ointments and stuff, and their body change. Professor Macgonall shows them how to magically change their voice.
Students combating the howlers from outraged parents by sending howlers to the parents shouting at them to be decent human beings. They start sending howlers to the students saying things like “I really like how your beard is starting to look!” or “You look really nice in that skirt and your legs look super smooth!” or “You have the cutest smile, wanna go to the Yule Ball?!”.
The Trans students staying at school during all holidays to avoid abuse at home.
I keep thinking about jimon + jace's cheesy pick up lines(even though they're already dating) its the cutest I'm crying
i think the sweetest part about this is that jace normally doesn’t have to resort to silly pickup lines to actually pick up because as we saw on 2x07 jace is just naturally confident, beautiful and cool and smooth - except it all flies out the window the second he falls for simon because all he wants to do is make simon smile even if its at his own expense??
consider the following teeny scenario (although this concept deserves MUCH MORE):
friday nights are date nights and today’s just supposed to be curling up in bed together with Chinese take-out and watching the latest mission: impossible in jace’s laptop.simon’s exhausted though, and it’s all he can do to change into a different t-shirt and drag himself over to the institute. he ends up falling asleep which his cheek smushed against jace’s shoulder, body aching, and only jolts awake when his phone goes off.
“sorry, sorry,” he says, fretting over the drool darkening jace’s shirt. “this is so uncool - i’m just, i think i got thrown against three different brick walls because that coven from connecticut just does not know how to play nice and i’ve zoomed across all five boroughs today including staten island which, let me tell you-”
jace does what he always does when simon gets like this: he leans in and presses kiss after kiss against simon’s mouth, swallowing up the panicked words until simon sighs and kisses him back, bones becoming liquid under jace’s hands. simon’s eyes are still closed when jace pulls away and says, “i thought your legs were hurting from running through my head all day, not running after some new england vampires.”
“next time i’ll stick to just your head,” says simon, voice rough with sleep and sweet with laughter. “pretty sure things turned out better for me in there.”
It’s the only thing Percy can think to say. He never thought he’d be here. He never thought he’d feel so much. When he met Annabeth so long ago, when he spent those quick-long years of their adolescence falling in love with her, moment after moment, year after year, he thought–this is it. And then, when his mother handed his baby sister to him, when he fed her bottles and taught her to swim and held her through her bad dreams, when he listened to her read, when he heard her laugh, he thought–this is it.
His daughter is such a tiny thing in his arms. She’s barely the length of his forearm. He knows to keep her head steady, and he knows that the little sounds she’s making are of trust and warmth and contentment. He knows that she’s a little bit of him–the messy dark hair, the brown skin, the attitude–and a little bit of Annabeth–the stern frown, the bow lips, the deep, wise, intimidating stare. He knows she’s going to end up a terrifying mix of them both.
He sits in bed, resting back against the headboard, and leans Daisy against his raised knees. Annabeth is dozing at his side. Dusk glows gentle and golden throughout the room, catches against the pale curtains, the white-slat walls, the puffy cloud of their comforter. It shines in Annabeth’s hair, the scars across her bare shoulders, the ring on her hand. It touches the curve of Daisy’s eyelashes.
And it’s sudden, the terror and awe that rise up in him. The devotion. The love.
This is it, he thinks, and cannot imagine feeling any more full than he does right now. Annabeth, curled up at his side, and his daughter, small and sleeping in his lap. He runs his thumb across the back of Daisy’s hand, her wrinkled fingers, her plump, rosy cheek, the furrow of her brow. He stares at her for what feels like hours. He knows she came from Annabeth–he watched it happen, watched their daughter come into the world bloody and screaming–but holding her here, now, in the peace of their home, in the sanctuary that has always been their bed–
This is it, Percy thinks, touching the mess of her hair, the smooth expanse of her forehead. This is it.
This: their home, their bedroom, the safety of these four walls, the comfort of their bed, the glow of their babbling, bioluminescent fountain in the corner, the weapons stashed between the mattresses, the drachmas hidden in sock drawers, the potted plants and the wall of pictures and the stacks and stacks of books, the muddy boots and the dirty laundry and the slobbery dog toys.
This: Annabeth, leaning toward him even in sleep, her thigh pulled into her chest, her shin pressed against his ankle, her open face, her loose muscles, the peeling sunburn against her chest, the freckles at her breast, the almost-smile at her lips.
This: Daisy, their daughter, blinking awake, looking up at him.
This: her smile.
Percy’s heart feels over-full, and he smiles, tears up, touches the curve of Daisy’s nose. “You have the cutest nose,” he murmurs, and leans down to kiss her. Her smile, when he pulls back, could rival the sunset. He kisses that, too.
with the adorable obsession over aliens (which are very cool lemme just say)
we have the cutest kathryn
a bubbly smiling girl who is just as sweet as candy
one last final push? right on the line, still need help?
the honest mark fischbach.
someone who has gone through thick and thin, and still smiles everyday, that doesn't let hate get in his way, that loves all his friends and family like no one else, mark fischbach who's job is to act as a friend for you, recording fun videos (even though some are rage induced, tear drowned, and very 'manly' reactions to jumpscares)