#@teasockschocolate

[olyia-stories]

A response to @teasockschocolate ‘s AU about the soulmate AUs in the PJO universe. Since this is a companion piece it doesn’t matter which one you read first, but make sure to check out @teasockschocolate and @demigodsanswer out.

Annabeth hated soulmates.

Ever since her dad met his, Annabeth’s life had just gotten worse. Admittedly, she and her dad hadn’t been particularly familyish, but it had been the two of them. He used to let her fall asleep in his arms while he worked on his thesis paper, he took her out for icecream in the park after his classes, and he would ask her opinion on which human models to put on his battle of the Somme replica. They had been fine on their own. They didn’t need Lori.

The only reason her dad even liked Lori was because the first thing she said to him was written on his arm. And not in the “he tattooed it on because he loved her” thing, but because it was a silly soulmate mark. Annabeth just couldn’t understand why her analytical father would rely on a process for choosing who he loved as flimsy as “the universe decided for us.” And clearly, the universe got it wrong. Lori was awful.

All Lori ever did was complain about everything Annabeth ever did: “Frederick, tell Annabeth to stop playing “science” in the living room.” “Frederick, tell Annabeth to stop drawing on herself.” “Frederick, tell Annabeth to go to sleep.” “Frederick, if you don’t tell Annabeth to stop getting out of bed, I will.” Lori only saw Annabeth as a stain that needed covering up.

Then the monsters started attacking. Of course, they were attacking because Annabeth was a half-blood, but it’s not like she wanted them to come. But Lori blamed her.

“There must be something you can do,” Lori was talking to Annabeth’s dad. Annabeth should have been asleep, but the spiders were too much for her. Lori went on, “Don’t look so shocked, I know you tried to get her mother to take her back, all I’m saying is that maybe someone more like her could take her off our hands.” Annabeth stood very still, she had not known that her dad had tried to get rid of her, she thought he loved her.

“Lori, I don’t know what to do, Athena sai-“

“Athena isn’t here!” Lori cut Annabeth’s father off. “Even Athena didn’t want that girl. I think it would be best for our boys if we found a new living arrangement for Annabeth.” Annabeth didn’t wait around for her father’s response; she knew he would give in he always gave in to Lori.

Annabeth was not going to give Lori the pleasure of sending her away, and she didn’t want to live a moment more under the same roof as her stepmother. Annabeth decided to leave.

She didn’t know where she would go, so Annabeth wanted to be prepared. She grabbed a marker and made a packing list on her arm. With the list on her arm, she quickly packed her backpack. She pulled on a hoodie and snuck out her bedroom window. It was on the second floor, but the window opened onto the porch roof and from there she shimmied down the gutter. And just like that, Annabeth was free.

--

“Child, in order to be a successful demigod you must be skilled in a wide-range of activities.” Chiron studied Annabeth from where he stood on the porch. Annabeth had come to complain. She didn’t understand why the camp made them climb lava walls, and swing swords at straw dummies. She just wanted to spend time in the Athena cabin’s library. She had never seen so many books, and she wanted to read them all.

“But Chiron, knowledge is power! Therefore, I should spend my time learning as much as I can.”

“Ah but knowledge is power; you must learn as much as you can, which includes being knowledgeable in fighting and survival tactics. Now I believe your cabin is going to the forge for arts and crafts, you should hurry along.” Annabeth thought about what the centaur had said while she walked to the forge. She decided She would start by learning archery. She wrote it on her hand, so she would remember to ask her siblings to teach her later. For now, she was going to create a masterpiece.

--

Annabeth lived year-round at camp, so she had independent lessons during the school year. Chiron trusted her siblings to educate her, but they quickly realized that she was capable of teaching herself so long as she had the right books. So, they let her alone. Annabeth would read, and write notebooks full of her discoveries, and when she came up on things she wanted to study further she would write a note on her arm to look it up later.

--

Finally, she met him. The person she had been waiting years for. This boy was who Chiron had told her about. He was going to take her on a quest. Well, he would once he stopped drooling in the med ward.

Percy Jackson would get a quest; Annabeth was sure of it. He was the son of Poseidon, one of the major gods, that was the deal. Chiron told her she would go with him on a quest. She HAD to go with him.

So, when Percy was taken to the big house she was right behind him. She had on her magic Yankee’s hat, a gift from her mother when she made it to camp the hat made the wearer invisible. She listened to Chiron explain to Percy the war brewing among the gods. She watched Percy enter the big house and listened for his footsteps recede up the stairs before she took off her cap.

“Blah ha ha!” Grover yelped. “You can’t sneak up like that Annabeth! You’ll give me a heart attack!”

Chiron sighed, “I suppose you were listening to all of that?”

“Yes,” she respected Chiron too much to lie to him. “I want to go on this quest.”

“Annabeth, you know that it’s Percy’s right to choose his companions,” Annabeth was in the middle of formulating a convincing argument when Chiron added, “But, I will tell Percy that you have volunteered to go, and if he wants to choose you, you may go. Child it will be dangerous, and I would rather both of you would stay at camp and train. I fear, however, that peace will only return to the Olympians when the bolt is returned. The quest must happen.”

Annabeth nodded. Satisfied with Chiron’s promise she waited for Percy to come back down. She was going on a quest

--

Annabeth still didn’t regret volunteering for the quest. It quickly went up, down and sideways and veered left from there. They have so far blown up a bus, wrecked a statue garden, ruined a national landmark, almost died by mechanical spider, and now they were heading south in the smelliest truck on the highway.

The animal fumes must have gotten to Annabeth because she found herself talking to Percy about her dad. She plucked at her dad’s college ring as she talked. “I guess my dad never really wanted me. He met Athena while he was working his way through grad school. She admired his dedication and helped him develop his thesis. To reward him, she pulled me out of her thoughts. He wanted her to take me back. But he took care of me. Once he met his soulmate, Lori, he decided he didn’t want me.” Annabeth glued her eyes to the ground. She found it easy to talk to Percy, but she couldn’t look at him and tell him what had eaten at her heart since Lori said those stupid soulmate words. “He had her and then they had their kids and they were that meant-to-be family. I was just in the way from them being perfect.” Annabeth stopped. She needed to collect herself, she hadn’t talked about her dad in years.

“I’m sorry.” Just two little words, and yet they made her heart soar. Percy put so much emotion into his voice, it was clear that he had experience with family issues. “My mom had a soulmate, but I don’t know who it was. It’s not my stepdad, that’s for sure. I think it could’ve been my dad.”

“Gods don’t soulbond.” How could he believe in soulmates when his mom had to put up with his stepdad? Poseidon couldn’t have been his mom’s soulmate. She winced, “sorry, that was mean.” She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she struggled to be anything but critical about the soulbond.

Percy shrugged, “S’fine. It’s true.”

Annabeth thought for a second, then asked. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Percy clutched at his wrist. “Yeah, I do.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but this confession still surprised her. She looked into his eyes and asked, “Really?”

“Do you?”

“No.” at least, she never thought enough about soulmate marks to check. “What’s your mark? Do you know your soulmate?” Annabeth didn’t know why she wanted to know, she just had to learn all she could.

“Uh,” a blush crept up his face. “it’s a writing one and no. I’ve, uh, never talked to her.”

“Why not?” If it had been Annabeth, she would have found out who it was. Even if she didn’t believe in soulmates, having someone you can communicate with without speaking or technology, that could be useful.

Percy shrugged, “I don’t know…”

“You should.”

“Maybe someday. I’ve got enough going on now.”

“That’s true.” She paused, then added, “I think soulmates are pretty dumb.”

He gave her a strange look. “Why?”

She felt his defenses rise. “Believe in them all you want. But wouldn’t you rather choose who you be with? The universe shows you one person and that’s it. And isn’t it doomed to fail? The expectation of who someone wants their soulmate to be is always going to be so big that they’ll never live up to it. It’s just setting both of them up to be disappointed.” She had thought this argument through more than once.

“But it’s the one person that the universe is saying is perfect for you. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

Annabeth knew she wasn’t going to change his opinion. “Good luck. I’ve never seen a soulbond work out.” Feeling like her last sentence was a bit gruff she offered, “I don’t mean to… discourage you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, that doesn’t encourage me.”

She knew it, she had let her bitterness show. “Maybe the people I’ve seen just haven’t cared as much about it. You haven’t given up.”

He smiled. “I’ll make sure mine works. Even if it’s just so you can be wrong about something.”

--

Annabeth didn’t think much about that night on the zoo truck. The summer passed, and the school year came. She decided to try living with her dad again. She studied like she was back at camp, writing notes on her arm, reminders, and doodling to pass the time in class.

San Francisco felt calmer than when she was little. Her dad’s house felt normal. No monster attacks at first, but Annabeth couldn’t help but feel on edge. She was just waiting for the bubble to pop.

She was in her Algebra class when she felt it, a burning sensation on her left palm. It felt like she was bitten by a spider. Annabeth yelped. The classmates gave her a weird look, but that was normal. She was the only seventh grader in a high school class.

Annabeth looked down at her hand and saw a little blue dot on her palm. It looked like a pen mark, but Annabeth hadn’t put it there. Annabeth thought back to the summer, when she had shared a hay-filled ride with Percy, and he had shared what his soulmate mark was with her.

Annabeth couldn’t be sure, but perhaps she did have a soulmate. She needed more evidence; a stray pen mark didn’t prove anything.

Perhaps she should pay Percy a visit.

--

Getting up to Percy’s fire escape was the easy part. Calculating which window was his based on the outside of the building was more difficult. Annabeth climbed the fire escape ladder and peaked into his window, she had her Yankee’s hat on, so he wouldn’t see her watching. She had to know.

Annabeth pulled the cap off her pen and drew a little flower on her arm, while she drew, she watched Percy’s arm. There it was, her little four petaled flower. She smiled. Why did this knowledge make her happy? Percy was her best friend, but she didn’t like him like that… did she?

--

Stupid! Annabeth that was stupid! Why did she charge the manticore? All she had on her was her Yankee’s hat and her dagger, and she jumped a monster. She should have known better, but when she left the gymnasium and saw Percy there. His shield up and his sword out, she knew in that moment that if anything happened to Percy, she would never forgive herself. She did the only thing she could and distracted the manticore. She didn’t realize that he would simply take her. That Luke wanted her, but he didn’t want her like Annabeth had always hoped. He was using her as bait. She was how he would catch a goddess.

Annabeth needed a plan. But she could barely breath, let alone think. The weight of the sky was literally threatening to crash down on her, and all she could do was kneel under the pressure and hope Luke would come to his senses. She felt a prickling on her arm, when she looked the words were written out in red pen, “We’re coming.” Her arms surged with strength. Suddenly the weight of the world felt lighter. She knew who that was writing on her arm. Percy knew she was alive. He was coming for her. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t.

--

Annabeth knew Percy was in trouble from two blocks away. She could see the smoke billowing up from Goode high school. Annabeth and Percy were supposed to go on a date to the movies, she had taken the LIR from camp into the city that morning to meet Percy after his high school orientation.

Unfortunately, plans were void whenever Percy was around. She saw the smoke and hurried up the block just in time to see Percy jump out onto the street from a window, followed by a red-haired girl. She had freckles everywhere, and paint stains on her clothes. Annabeth wondered who she was while she watched the girl pull a marker out of her back pocket and felt the tingling sensation as the girl wrote her number on Percy’s arm, and Annabeth’s right arm copied it.

She stared dumbfounded at Percy, before turning on her heel and leaving the red-haired girl behind. She hailed a cab and waited for Percy to catch up. She crossed her arms, hoping to hide the thick black numbers. The cab came. They sat in silence.

How could she be so stupid. Soulbonds never worked out. She was a fool for thinking maybe they could overcome all the evidence she had collected saying otherwise.

Percy cleared his throat. “Could I… call my mom?” right, she had probably heard about the fire, his mom would be worried. Annabeth wished she had someone to worry over her. She fished her phone out of her pocket, careful to keep her right arm at her side. He quickly finished the call and handed Annabeth her phone. She again kept her arm close to her side. “Cold?” His voiced broke through her thoughts.

“What?”

“Just… since you’re…” He gestured to her folded arms.

She had hoped to quickly pass the cab ride in silence. “No.” she answered truthfully, hoping to stop the conversation there.

“Oh.” Percy continued. “I, uh, have a jacket in my backpack if you want.”

“No.” she couldn’t let him see the stupid number on her arm, and she didn’t want to talk to him. She turned towards the window and watched the familiar landscape of Long Island to take shape.

As soon as they got to camp she ran to her cabin. And pulled on a sweatshirt. She only hoped the marks would soon be gone, and that she hadn’t been too obvious.

--

The mountain exploded behind Annabeth. She didn’t let herself cry. Percy was a powerful demigod, and resourceful, and just plain lucky. He would make it out. She was sure.

She made it back to camp on her own. Hoping the whole way that Percy had beat her there. But no one had seen him. She tried not to notice her friends giving her pitying looks and hoped every day to see her seaweed brain crest the hill or walk out of the ocean. It got harder to hope as the weeks came and went. Annabeth pretended she was fine. She led her cabin through their activities always glancing towards the ocean, hoping to be the first to spot him. He didn’t show up.

The day with its tasks kept her mind busy, but the night was hard. She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, trying to make a plan that would bring Percy home. She decided to write him a note. She put the pen to her hand and tried to think of what to say. But everything she wanted to write down seemed to swirl in her head. She instead wrote, “Hello?” That’s as far as she got before she couldn’t see with the tears welling in her eyes.

Two weeks passed, and still no word. Chiron decided to hold Percy’s memorial, to send him off properly. Annabeth stood at the fire pit and put the green silk cloth on the flames. She choked on the words, “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had.” And the stupidest, “He…” she looked up at that moment and saw the impossible. What she had been waiting to see for weeks. “He’s right there!”

Annabeth vaulted up the amphitheater steps. And hugged him tight. He was alive!

--

It was August eighteenth. Percy’s birthday. Annabeth paused for only a second before writing out on her arm, ”Happy birthday.” She knew who was on the other end of this connection now, and she didn’t care about her data that said otherwise. She wanted Percy to know, she wanted them to work out.

“Thanks.” Was all he replied, and somehow that was all she needed. She couldn’t wait to see him again; they were going to make it through together.

--

Annabeth couldn’t believe this boy! How could she have ever liked him. They were standing near the tetherball court. She couldn’t believe he wanted to talk to her about his mortal friend Rachel. Sure, last summer she’d been helpful in the Labyrinth but that didn’t mean that she and Annabeth were friends. “What do you want me to say?” he seemed to put a lot of trust in this Rachel girl. How could he be so ignorant. She was a mortal, mortals don’t have visions. And besides he was just using this as an excuse to run away. She looked him in the eyes and spat out what she was thinking. “You’re a coward, Percy Jackson!”

Why had he never said anything. She was certain he knew, and their world could end any second. Beckendorf was proof of that. Why couldn’t he just talk to her! Why did every conversation turn into a shouting match? Why did she open her heart and let him in, when she knew that soulbonds never work. She couldn’t look at his green eyes anymore, she stormed away towards the strawberries, giving the tetherball a good whack as she passed it.

--

The war was over. They had won! And Rachel was now the new camp oracle. More importantly, Percy had turned down immortality. She was sure. She wanted to him to be her soulmate. She found him in the pavilion, lost in thought. She got out a pen and wrote out, “Hey.” He looked down at his wrist, then turned around to find her.

“Hey.” He had a little grin on his face, she smiled in return.

“Happy birthday.”

“What?” he looked puzzled.

she silently cursed herself, did she get the day wrong? “It’s August 18, You’re birthday, right?”

He nodded, and she let a breath out, she offered him the misshapen lump of birthday cake. It was delicious.

After a few minutes she couldn’t keep herself from asking what had been on her mind all summer. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“About what?” Annabeth couldn’t look at him, she was too scared. “I… I didn’t know for sure. If I was yours. And then last year… There was just so much else going on.”

Annabeth finally looked at him, she softly said, “I know, I thought I didn’t have one. I mean, I wrote on myself all the time when I was little.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” She had to know. “When you said you had one… I thought it was someone else.” She didn’t say all that she was thinking, that she had hoped he didn’t have one, that she had liked him even all those years ago in that truck.

“I didn’t know what to say. But no, it was always just you.” Those words, the same way she had felt. Now she knew, Annabeth through away her caution and kissed him. He tasted like salt.

**Edit: I read the original fanfic on @demigodsanswer‘s blog but the AU “Whatever Souls are Made of” is by @teasockschocolate

[bipercabeth]

8 i love drama

8. Did Luke deserve Elysium?

can u imagine being one of the heroes who died stopping luke and seeing that bitch pull up in elysium? beckendorf takes one look at luke walking through the pearly gates and decks him all the way to the fields of punishment. abusers do not get elysium just bc they die a hero’s death 

pjo ask memes

[pjoseries]

AM I TOO LATE FOR U TO WRITE MY URL THEYRE SO PRETTY

never too late !!!! thank u 🥺

send me ✐ and i’ll handwrite ur url !!!

[antivanruffles]

or carlwheeler 20 or 23

20. kiss on a scar / 23. kiss in relief.

Phillip was nearly asleep, breathing slowly down and his body relaxing as everything around him seemed to fade away. He was only dimly aware when the bed dipped next to him, felt Anne shifting.  

Then he was pulled back to consciousness by the feel of her hair tickling his chest, her lips grazing his stomach. Prying one eye open, he watched Anne sit up, her fingers going to the raised skin running across his torso. His burns had long since healed, but the scars remained. 

Without a word he gently gripped Anne’s wrist, pulled her down to him. They settled facing each other, bodies twined together and faces only inches apart. They both dreamt of the fire, from time to time, a memory neither of them could ever really shake. His dreams were filled of desperation and an unbearable heat, hers with guilt and an unbearable loss. 

“It’s okay,” Phillip whispered, closed the small gap between and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

Anne nodded slightly, mouth twisting as if were trying not to cry. She slid her hand over his side, inched herself as close as possible, and kissed him. He could practically taste her relief on his lips, could feel it in the way her fingers dug into his skin. 

In the morning the dreams would be a distant memory, like they always were. Nearly forgotten in the bright morning sun, and the dawn of a new day. Though while the night remained, and the dreams were as vivid as a lightning flash burned against your eyelids, he would hold her and comfort her as best as he knew how. 

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

teasockschocolate said: omg this is adorable please write more!!

thank you so much!!! i don’t have any more greatest showman ideas at the moment, but that 300 word ficlet just broke top ten in kudos of ALL MY FIC EVER, including stories that have been around for years, so there’s definitely something to be said for writing in popular fandoms. :D if i think of something, i’ll write more. 

[blackjacktheboss]

To the anon who asked for pjo fics, I would also recommend percyyoulittleshit, greenconverses, annabetncnase, and teasockschocolate

Thanks!! like I said, so many awesome people posting awesome content. 

[thedeadlycod]

what if by annabetncnase, teasockschocolate

what if by annabetncnase, teasockschocolate

Words:  16,086

Pairing: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson

Completed: Yes

What if some moments in PJO and HOO had gone a bit differently? This will be a series of rewrites of some scenes, or new scenes we think should have been in the books. or, We wrote down our self-indulgent headcanons.

[samotchkaficrecs]

Heyo, I've been having some nostalgia, so do you know of any good Percy Jackson fanfictions? (If there even are any?) Thank youuuu!!!

Oui oui mon ami, i have actually been rereading a few of my favourite fics for the pjo fandom sooo your in luck!

As always fic with a ‘★’ next to is are my highly reccomended.

★ somebody’s old friend - byRosyredlipstick

The night began with wine and dinner, cake and champagne. It began with boring conversation, tense smiles, and eyes that should not have been lingering. A gathering, with known names and too-sweet comments. This was a party of politics, and everyone there knew it. This is where it began.But the night of October 23rd 1969, a date that would later go down in Chicago city history, truly started with a murder. But even before that - a scream.-The PJO Murder Mystery AU

(complete)

★ The Sandwich Thief - byboombashkas

Someone at work has started stealing Jason’s lunch every day.

And leaving stupid letters behind in its place.

(complete)

Saving Grace - bybrittneynr96

“He’s so perfect, and damn, he looks good in those tights. I wanna meet him,”

“You like him?”

“Like him? I love him! He’s perfect! Have you seen him in action? He’s like superman!”

“Well maybe you’ll get too meet him one day..”

“I hope your right.”

Or the one in which a comic book nerd who loves superheroes a little too much falls for a superhero who’s just his bro in disguise.

(ongoing)

Disney Adventures - byRayvnAshes (IronScript)

Percy Jackson and Co. manage to convince Chiron to let them go on a (well-deserved) vacation after the war, and where else would they choose to go but the Happiest Place on Earth?

(complete)

Is There Something On My Face? - bybuoyantsaturn

5 times Will has something on his face and 1 time Nico has something on his.

(complete)

★ summers of stars - byteasockschocolate 

“Percy studied the constellations -– the ones Annabeth had taught him so many years ago.”-snapshots of baby percabeth + stars across the PJO series inspired from that house of hades quote

(complete)

Leo Valdez & the Inescapable Curse - byMermaidMarie

Leo has never been one to give up, whether it be on machines or on people. As far as he’s concerned, if someone says a problem can’t be fixed, they just haven’t met Leo Valdez yet. After hearing some of the worst news of his entire life, Leo decides to set off on a quest that could very well get him killed. What else is new?

Following the events of The Trials of Apollo: The Burning Maze. Major spoilers.

(ongoing)

Not Quite Famous - byjasonsmclean

The kids of celebrities are their own breed. They aren’t known for their abilities or talents, but they are well-known by association. Their pictures are coveted, their social media accounts with thousands, if not millions, of followers, and all of their friends are suddenly scrutinized as well.

When Jason Grace, son of famous actress Beryl Grace, returns to the spotlight for the first time in years, the media is desperate for any scrap of information about him. Even if it means creating rumors of a relationship with Tristan McLean’s daughter, Piper.

(ongoing)

I hope these will suffice, i tried to pick ones for different ships so not to overload on any particular one. SOOO enjoyyy

Au revoir~ 

[jackmansjoy]

Rules: 15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by the lovely @smilecapsules thanks girl, you da bomb 

1. Are you named after anyone?

Only my middle name which was after my great grandma. 

2. When was the last time you cried?

Lol yesterday. Twas a long day. 

3. Do you have kids?

Ya’ll I am far too young for that, so no.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

That’d be a bit of an understatement. 

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Definitely their eyes and their smile.

6. What’s your eye colour?

Hazel.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

Gimme a happy ending because I’ll watch scary movies but that doesn’t mean I handle them well. 

8. Any special talents?

No not really? I’m not a very talented individual lol 

9. Where were you born?

Wisconsin. 

10. What are your hobbies?

Listening to music, singing, writing. Honestly I haven’t had time for hobbies with my life lately lol 

11. Have you any pets?

I have a 3 year old doggo named Teddy. 

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

I used to play softball, but I don’t currently play anything. 

13. How tall are you?

I’m 5′7. Which is like supposedly average but all my friends are tall af so I feel small as hell. 

14. Favourite subject in school?

Either Science or Social Studies. 

15. Dream job?

We’ll go with teacher since that’s the path I’m on right now. 

I’m tagging: @three-wishes-not-granted @literarysynergy0210 @freakygirlsworld @cerirelativity @daddybarnaclebarnum @bluetigerchild @teasockschocolate @circus-playwright @bisexual-eponine @crown-of-the-circus-king @huge-actman @huge-ackmann @krystalprism @storytimetraveler @eater-of-hopes-and-dreams

[ao3feed-rewritethestars]

set up

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QGFE28

by teasockschocolate

Upon meeting the newest dancer in the cast, Anne realized three things. The first was that this girl was absolutely clueless, the second was that she was infaturated with Phillip, and the third was that Anne was about to have a lot of fun.

Words: 1180, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Carlwheeler Appreciation Week

Fandoms: The Greatest Showman (2017)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Phillip Carlyle, Anne Wheeler

Relationships: Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler

Additional Tags: Fluffy, Post canon, jealousy? what jealousy, bamf anne wheeler, title is definitely going to change im just in a rush rn

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QGFE28

[my-meant-to-find-blog]

Playlist Game

Rules: We’re snooping on your playlist. Set your entire 🎶 library on shuffle and report the first 10 songs that pop up, then choose 10 victims.

Oooh, you cheeky one @sweetboybucky! This was so tough not to skip past a few songs aha, but here they are! PLEASE don't judge me you wonderful people aha! 

Incomplete - James Bay 

Piece By Piece - Kelly Clarkson 

Best Of You - Foo Fighters 

Lovebug - Jonas Brothers 

Nobody Knows Me Like The Piano - Sampha

I’ll Try - Jonatha Brooke 

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You - Frankie Valli 

Versace On The Floor - Bruno Mars 

Perfectly Wrong - Shawn Mendes 

Tears In The Rain - Nathan Sykes

I am SO shocked no musicals came up, they are what I tend to gravitate towards most frequently! 

Now for my victims! SO excited to see what your lists are!

@tomhollanduniverse @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @jojoeatsoreos @teasockschocolate @hollander-land @kaatieeeeee @zac-zendaya @philippcarlyle @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @dancergrl1

GOOD LUCK! 

[bipercabeth]

percabeth 30

30. one headcanon about this OTP that mends [your heart]

pulling these out of thin air is hard but lets take a second to think about percy PRINTING OUT that picture of annabeth during the school year to carry with him to remind him that she was real. tell me that boy doesn’t have the fattest wallet full of pictures of his girl. u can’t

otp question meme

[kadtherine]

i can’t drown my demons (they know how to swim)

A/N : The Greatest Showman fandom doesn’t have enough fanfictions and I’m trying to fix that particular problem (it does have amazing writers like for example @abroholoselephanta, @teasockschocolate, @smilinstar, @overlycompensatedapprentice, @the-circus-princess and @the-brightest-colours to mention a few and you should go and support them) 

summary : P.T Barnum might be the showman and the ringleader, shining under the spotlight, but Charity was the force that's bonded all of them when all of the lights were out, backstage.

word count : 4,515.

You can also read this on ao3.

Phillip watched, his jaw clenched as the amber liquid sloshed around in his glass, the drink spilling over and onto his fingers. He narrowed his eyes at it and brought it to his lips, the smell of whiskey assaulting him as soon as he took a whiff of it. His head spun. His head throbbed. His head felt heavy. His hand felt empty. Phillip tightened his hold around the glass, as if trying to make up for the loss. It felt cold and slippery in his grasp. It felt wrong. Most importantly, it didn’t feel like Anne’s warm and calloused palm as Phillip wrapped his hand around it. Phillip felt a pair of eye observing him and loosened his hold around the glass. Phillip had felt his parents’ judging eyes on him - on her - let go. He had met Anne’s accusing eyes and had walked away.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Phillip shook his head and downed his drink in one go without a wince. He set the empty glass on the counter and knocked on it twice, running his fingers through his hair. He barely had the time to blink before an arm appeared in front of him, silently pouring whiskey. Phillip frowned when noticing that the bartender had only filled it half of the glass. Before he could withdrew it, Phillip wrapped a hand around his forearm and pried the bottle out of his hand. He ignored his disapproving look as he filled his glass to the brim before setting it next to him.

Phillip felt nauseous and the alcohol didn’t make it any better. And yet, here he sat in the same bar P.T Barnum had convinced him to run away and join the circus, in the same inebriated state. He didn’t have the circus to run to this time, though. He wouldn’t dare go the circus and face the others in the state he was currently in. The thought of going to his parents’ estate briefly crossed his mind before it quickly disappeared. He wasn’t sure what he would say to his parents if he were to see them at that particular moment. To be honest, Phillip didn’t particularly care about what either of them had to say. He was sure he had caused enough grief for the night. Keeping to himself seemed to be the only rational choice.

“Mind if I join you?”

Phillip looked up at the familiar voice, blinking a couple of times at her before he frowned down at his drink. Had he drunk enough for him to be having hallucinations already ? Had he drank that much without noticing ? He didn’t bothered to do a mental count of the many drinks he had ordered since he had stepped in the establishment, his focus on the apparition by his side. Apparition that had taken the familiar form of Charity Barnum. Phillip’s frown deepened, his fingers tracing the brim of his glass. Why would he be having hallucinations of her ? To his recollection, Phillip barely had the time to carry an entire conversation with the woman throughout the entire evening - he remembered briefly greeting her and winking to the younger girls before going to join Barnum backstage. Surely, he didn’t do anything to cause any harm toward her. Perhaps, Phillip thought, perhaps she was a physical manifestation of his guilt, forcing him to face what he had done.

Phillip blinked and the apparition remained, standing by his side with a smile on her face and kind eyes. He tilted his head to the side, propping it on his closed fist. The insides of his stomach churned as he watched the bartender passed by and acknowledged her with a nod, cleaning a glass. Phillip took a quick look around the bar, straightening up on his stool as he remarked on the lack of other tenants. Placing both of his hands on the counter, Phillip slowly turned around to face her. Quickly sobering up, he immediately jumped off his stool, swallowing the bile that had risen up his throat. He mentally thanked whatever higher power allowed him to remain on his two feet instead of sprawling on the dirty floor. Phillip briefly remembered the manners he had been taught as he ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his shirt. He inwardly winced, eventually giving up on the task. She had already caught him. Running or hiding weren’t options. He folded his hands behind his back and faced Charity.

“Mrs Barnum! What are you doing here?”

She shook her head at him, her smile still in place - if not wider - as she slid on the stool next to him, tucking her skirts beneath. Phillip sat back down, grimacing - maybe he should have spread his coat over her seat before she sat down. Charity didn’t show any sign of discomfort, though. Her posture was proper - shoulders pushed back and legs crossed, like every aristocrat girl had been taught in finishing school - and her outfit was proof enough that a lady of her ranking shouldn’t be out in a New York bar that late. Still, she managed to look like she belonged, completely at ease and showing no sign of discomfort. There was something about Charity Barnum, her mere presence relaxing. Phillip watched as she pulled out the needles and pins holding up her bun, letting her hair fall down her shoulders. She shook curls out of it and ran her fingers through it with a sigh of relief.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that ? We’ve missed you at the circus tonight,” she rested her elbows on the counter and intertwined her fingers together, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

The bartender gave her a small nod, drumming against the counter before he reached for a glass from under it. He slid it toward her and Phillip couldn’t help but cock an impressed eyebrow when she caught it single handedly. The bartender threw him a look, his eyes flickering from him to the bottle of whiskey he had insisted on keeping by his side. Phillip suddenly felt warm, avoiding either of their eyes as he pushed the bottle with a finger. He grabbed it without a word and moved to Charity, pouring it halfway before he made sure to put the bottle out of Phillip’s reach. He didn’t protest, nor did he lift his head from his crossed arms. His glass remained untouched in front of him, the content suddenly unappealing. Phillip cleared his throat and leaned against the counter.

“Wouldn’t have thought that anyone had noticed my absence,” Phillip sighed, risking a glance from the corner of his eye.

“Why not?” Charity frowned at him, sipping on her drink, “You’ve become a crucial part to the show. Phin was pretty concerned when you didn’t show up, so were the others. After all, you are,” a smile appeared on her face, obscured by the glass in front of her lips, “the Prince of Humbug.”

Phillip let out a snort at that. He had heard the nickname going around - he wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Bennet used it for one of his future critics. Lettie had been the one dubbing him so, the other performers quickly picking on the nickname. Seeing as Barnum held the title of King of Humbug, it was only right for his apprentice to gain a title of his own. It didn’t bother Phillip. If anything, it made him feel more included, like he was in on a joke that very few knew and understand. It was all in fun and jest and Phillip wore it proudly, responding to the nickname with an eager smile on his face. All he needed was the crown that went with the title.

“Technically, I’m still an apprentice,” Phillip remarked on, earning a soft laugh from Charity. Absently picking up his drink, he mimicked the woman’s small sips instead of downing it one swift motion, “And I’m sorry if I caused anyone unnecessary concern, it wasn’t my attention.”

Phillip tried not to dwell on the guilt and didn’t ask if a certain aeralist had been more worried than others. She had no reasons to be, after all. His hold tightened around his glass and Phillip had to remind himself to take slow, small sips instead of throwing it back like a simple shot.

“No need for that,” Charity reassured him with a dismissive wave of her hand. She drained the rest of her glass without a wince and signaled the bartender for a refill, “We all need some room to breathe every now and then.”

Phillip didn’t hear her, unable to tear his eyes for the bottle of whiskey as amber liquid filled her glass, “You know, this is strong stuff. Maybe you should take it easy.”

The bartender threw a deadpan look his way because, seriously ? Who was he kidding ? Hadn’t he be the one who had clutched the bottle to his chest as if it was a security blanket mere minutes ago. Phillip clenched his jaw, his gaze falling to his own glass. Throwing all caution and pretense out the window, he threw his head back and downed the rest of his drink. His head spun at the sudden movement and he winced, eyes shut tight as he let his head fall back on his chest. Once he had regained his senses, Phillip opened his eyes and turned his glass upside down, pressing a hand against the bottom of it. As if he was making a point. He didn’t miss the bartender’s nod and crooked smile before the latter went back to drying glasses.

“Oh please,” Charity let out a snort that would’ve left his mother gasping in outrage, “When you run along the likes of P.T Barnum, you learn to hold your liquor.”

“Right,” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the glass.

He could almost feel his flask burn a hole in the inside pocket of his jacket. Phillip rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed himself off the counter, almost leaning back before he caught himself, remembering that he wa sitting on a stool at the very last second. He threw a look at Charity from the corner of his eye, the latter letting her glass nonchalantly dangle from her fingers as she occasionally glanced at him. Phillip tried to not squirm or recoil back under the weight of her look. He wasn’t sure why she was making her that uncomfortable : it wasn’t as she was looking at him with disappointment and shame like his parents had. She wasn’t looking at him in distrust like some members of the troupe, nor did she looked hurt like Anne had earlier. His hands clenched into fists at the mere thought of her. Charity clearing her throat to his side snapped Phillip out of his trance. He watched as she downed the rest of her drink and pushed the glass, shaking her head when the bartender held the bottle.

“I didn’t came here to interrogate you or scold you, Phillip,” she reassured him, tucking at the end of her hair, “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you at the gala and you were gone before I could approach you.”

Phillip let a sigh of his own, running his fingers through his hair. Meeting Charity’s eyes, he found himself relaxing a bit, the fog cloaking his mind getting clearer. It wasn’t disappointment, or shame he had seen in her eyes. It hadn’t been distrust or hurt either. Charity looked at him like she had looked at Caroline when the latter had arrived from ballet practice, sobbing and avoiding anyone who’d tried to get to her. Unsurprisingly, Charity had been the one who had been able to get through Caroline, rubbing her back and waiting patiently for her daughter to gather herself. She was looking at him with motherly concern and Phillip wasn’t sure what he done for him to earn it.

“I saw my parents tonight,” Phillip let out, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as the words left his mouth, “More like they saw me,” he muttered to himself, drumming his fingers against the counter.

“Oh. I see, “Charity said, straightening up on her stool, her eyes a bit wider.

“I mean, I don’t even talk to them and yet, here I am,” Phillip shrugged, taking a look around his surroundings, “It only took a look from them and I was just a little bashful kid again. It shouldn’t be getting to me.”

Phillip knew why it was getting to him and if the look Charity was giving him was anything to go by, she knew too. She had the decency to keep quiet, though - the look she gave him was enough. He closed his eyes for a second, the hurt-filled brown eyes coming immediately to his mind. Hearing a thud, Phillip reopened his eyes and frowned at the sight of the filled shot glass set in front of him. He looked up to the bartender, the latter ignoring him as he went to serve another tenant. Philip felt the corner of his mouth lift up in a half smile as he pulled the shot glass closer to him, tapping his finger against it.

“I get it,” Charity retorted and her words were so soft that Phillip thought that he had imagined it at first. He noticed the shot glass in front of her, “I hadn’t seen my parents in ten years and yet, when I saw them at the gala, I pushed back my shoulders and made sure that my hair was neatly tucked behind my ears like a proper upper class lady.”

Phillip briefly remembered the brief interaction - altercation - that had occured between Barnum and a couple of people he hadn’t recognize. He had already been on his fourth champagne flute when Jenny Lind had intervened, quickly and effectively providing a distraction. Charity shot him a small smile, as if she could see the gears turn in his mind.

“Phin and my father never really saw eye-to-eye and he always felt like he had something to prove to him, that he was worthy of me,” Charity let out a mirthless chuckle at that, lifting a shoulder, “I guess that I did too. I wanted to show the both of them that we had been able to make a life for ourselves without their support. But then they saw the girls and-”

Phillip watched as Charity stared at the wall of bottles in front of her, as if in some sort of daze. She cleared her throat, wrapping two fingers around her shot glass.

“And I thought that it’d be nice for them to be in their lives, for Caroline and Helen to get know them as their grandparents and not meaningless strangers. I might not agree with the choices they made but with insight I know those choices are made out of love, that they did what they thought was best at the time.”

And though Phillip nodded at the words, he couldn’t relate to them. He briefly remembered his younger self spending time with his mother in their gardens after lessons. He remembered his mother’s genuine grin as he ran circles around her while making stories on the spot to entertain her - Phillip also remembered how her grins had gotten her bland and mirthless, ignoring him in favour of tea parties. Phillip thought of his father praising his plays during dinner parties. The thought was quickly replaced by the image of the empty theatre box he knew were reserved for his parents. Philip found himself thinking about the way Caroline and Helen would rush to P.T, exhilarated grins on their faces as he’d swing them around and unconsciously compared it to the dread he’d feel whenever his father came home from work. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, looking back at Charity with a small smile on his face.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, tapping a finger against the brim of his glass. He licked his lips, restraining the urge to bring the drink to his mouth.

Charity returned the smile before letting a sigh. She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at it, and pushed the untouched shot glass with her finger. Phillip watched as she adjusted her scarf around her neck, turning on her stool so she could face him.

“Would you mind walking me home? It’s a nice, warm night out and the trek will surely help you clear your head more efficiently,” Charity slid off her stool, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat, “And Phin will sleep easy knowing you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Phillip narrowed his eyes at her and Charity held his gaze without flinching, patiently awaiting for his response. Not that she actually had to hear his actual answer; the choice had already been made the second she had slid off the stool, leaving her glass untouched. Despite his half-drunken state, he could see what she was doing. Critics always spoke of P.T’s silver tongue and charm, they talked about the way that he’d managed to fool audience and performers alike with his words and a dazzling grin. Phillip thought that neither of his critics would last a second if they were to face Charity. She could’ve asked the bartender to call a car for her. She could’ve asked him to do it. Hell, she could even have done it herself. But Charity didn’t. Instead, she had requested for Phillip to accompany her back to her home, assuring that he wouldn’t stay and drown his sorrow in another round of shots after her departure. There was something about the Barnum, Phillip thought. Something about them that made it impossible for him to refuse any of their requests.

She smiled at him and Phillip couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he reached for the inside of his pocket - unflinching when feeling the cold surface of his half-filled flask - and got a stack of bills that would cover for his and Charity’s drinks. Setting it down next to his still-full shot glass, Phillip gave a small to the bartender before he his top hat and coat, slowly getting up his feet - swallowing a cry of relief when he didn’t drop flat on his face. Dropping the hat on his head, he chose to drap his coat on his arm while holding his other one for Charity to grab, an eyebrow cocked. If anything, Charity’s smile widened as she wrapped her arm around Phillip’s, leading the two out of the bar and into the streets of New York.

The skies are clear and so were the streets, much to Phillip’s surprise. But then again, he had been in the bar for a long time, Phillip thought with a frown. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pant pockets, looking up at the heavens. They rarely saw the stars in New York, usually they’d have to walk to the beaches to even catch a glimpse of cloudless skies. It was nice, refreshing. Phillip mentally reminded himself to bring the girls in spring or early summer, hopefully they’d be lucky and even see fireflies. He briefly wondered if he’d be able to convince Anne to cut her practice short for on- Phillip shook his head before the idea could fully developed in his mind and hoped that Charity wasn’t paying attention. Who was he kidding, she was always paying attention. Phillip felt warm and he didn’t know if it was the alcohol running through his blood or the traitorous thoughts running through his mind. If asked, Phillip would say that it was the alcohol.

Charity provided the perfect distraction halfway through their trek to the Barnum household and Phillip found himself relaxing as he listened to her recount Helen’s latest fancies and adventures. Apparently, the youngest of the Barnum bunch seemed to think that them acquiring a mermaid would do wonders for business. It would had magic to it, had she said - as well would unicorns and fairies. P.T had already ran the two ideas by him, whining about how Helen was too smart to recognize a real-unicorn from a regular white horse with a makeshift horn. Phillip had suggested that they hire new aeralists in guise of fairies and the idea had been enough to put an end P.T’s frentic pacing. Charity was talking about Caroline’s suggestion of adding cotton candy and caramelized apples - Phillip’s stomach gave a small groan at that, reminding him that he had only consumed liquid that evening - when they stepped foot on the Barnum propriety.

He hadn’t even recognized the grounds, engrossed in the current conversation, before they walked past the opened gates. Phillip looked up at the mansion and couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips at the sight. It didn’t loom over him, like his parents’ manor did. From where he stood, he could see a light coming from where he knew was the kitchen. He threw a look to the upper windows, noticing that the curtains of Helen’s and Caroline’s windows had been drawn closed.

“Good evening, Mrs Barnum. Mr Carlyle,” a valet greeted them at the door, snapping Phillip’s out of his contemplation, “I trust you had a good walk.”

“Invigorating, Bertrand,” Charity answered with a smile, letting him take her coat and scarf.

Bertrand turned toward Phillip and cocked an eyebrow at him, expectant. Phillip hastily took off his top hat and handed both hat and coat to him with a small smile. Bertrand drapped the coat over his arm and turned back to face Charity.

“Will you need for me to call for a room to be prepared, Ma'am ?”

“That will not be necessary, thank you,” Charity said, toeing off her shoes, “I’ll have a car drive you back home,” she added with a smile and much to Phillip’s confusion, she wasn’t talking to him.

Bertrand gave her a nod before taking his leave. Charity crooked a finger at him, beckoning Phillip to follow her. He did, as if entranced by the sight of her walking barefoot - well, not really, she was still wearing her stockings - through the house, stopping every now and then to pick up a doll Helen had forgotten to put away or fold a comforter, draping it over the back of the couch. Phillip couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his mother pick up anything that wasn’t a cup of tea or a flute of champagne. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his mother prance barefoot through the halls of the manor - he held in a snicker as he imagined her horror at the mere suggestion. The floor was littered with toys and shoes and candles enlightened the length of the hall. It felt warm, welcoming and lived in instead of the cold interior, immaculate interior of the Carlyle household.

Charity stopped at the threshold of the kitchens, rapping her knuckles against it. Peering over her shoulder, Phillip smiled at the sight of P.T Barnum hunched over various drawings and notes - he was pretty sure he caught a sketch of butterfly-fairy like wings. He looked up at the sound, a grin appearing on his face as he caught sight of the two. Leaning back in his chair, he dropped his pen and crossed his arms against his chest, his head tilted to the side.

“Hey, look who I found,” Charity announced as she walked into the kitchens, Phillip on her heels

“Hey there,” P.T said, leaning his head back when Charity went to stand behind him, both of her hands on his shoulders as she leaned in for a quick peck.

Phillip leaned against a counter, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed as he tried to give the two as much as privacy as he could with him in the room. He ignored the longing he felt at the sight and clenched his jaw, trying to contain a yawn. Again, it didn’t escape Charity’s notice. An arm wrapped around her husband’s neck, she tilted her head to the side and frowned at him.

“Have you had anything to eat for dinner?”

His lips pursed, Phillip shook his head and pushed himself off the counter. His stomach grumbled, as if on cue and he felt his face flushed, the tips of his ears warm. Smirking, P.T pushed a chair in front of him with a foot and tilted his head toward it. Rolling his eyes, Phillip fell into the chair and pulled the notes closer to him, his head tilted to the side. He didn’t have the time to protest when the papers were replaced by a plate filled with food.

“I didn’t bring the boy over so the both of you could stay up late at night working,” Charity threw P.T a look, squeezing Phillip’s shoulder, “I’ll prepare the room next to Caroline. Lend him a pair of pants and shirt, would you?”

“I didn’t mean to be a bother-” Phillip started, interrupted by P.T’s snort.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, leaning against the table, “And you aren’t. I prefer knowing that you’re here and safe instead of you being wandering through the streets of New York, drunk out of your damn mind.”

Charity nodded at that, shooting him a smile. Phillip smiled back at her, stabbing the fork into a piece of chicken while P.T returned to his sketching. Charity wrapped her hair with a ribbon, putting it up in a high ponytail and she grabbed a lantern off the table before she moved to P.T’s side, whispering something in his ear. He nodded and squeezed her hand before she walked past him and made her way to the staircase. Catching Phillip’s eye, she winked at him and disappeared into the stairs. Snorting, Phillip shook his head and turned back to his food, only to find P.T looking at him with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Phillip shrugged, his tone slightly defensive.

P.T shook his head and laughed. He wrapped his hand around his glass of water and lifted it, as if toasting to something.

“Congratulations, Mr Carlyle. You’re officially part of the family and there’s no way out of it.”

Phillip froze in mid motion, his fork in front of his mouth as he processed the words. P.T used his distraction to steal the piece of chicken off the cutlery, popping into his mouth. Dropping the fork, Phillip found himself grinning at the thought. P.T Barnum might be the showman and ringleader shining beneath the spotlight, but Charity was the force that bonded all of them together when all of the lights were out, backstage. Phillip grabbed a glass off the drying rack and poured water into it, lifting it in his own private toast before taking a sip of it. 

Here’s to newfound family.

[antivanruffles]

teasockschocolate replied to your post: I KNOW I SAID THIS BEFORE but it really sucks...

be a real ho and drop it all at once

NO I NEED TO CREATE SUSPENSE, LEAVE PEOPLE WONDERING

... also it’s not 100% done yet so I can’t post it all.

[discoreos]

Tag Game!

Tagged by @carlylexwheeler, thanks hon :)

Rules: Bold what you prefer and tag 10 people.

1. Coffee or Tea

2. Early Bird or Night Owl

3. Chocolate or Vanilla

4. Spring or Fall

5. Silver or Gold

6. Pop or Alternative

7. Freckles or Dimples

8. Snakes or Sharks

9. Mountains or Field

10. Thunderstorms or Lightning

11. Egyptian Mythology or Greek Mythology

12. Ivory or Scarlet

13. Flute or Lyre

14. Eyes or Lips

15. Witch or Fairy

16. Opal or Diamond

17. Butterflies or Honeybees

18. Macarons or Eclairs

19. Typewritten Letters or Handwritten Letters

20. Secret Garden or Secret Library

21. Rooftop or Balcony

22. Spicy or Mild

23. Opera or Ballet

24. London or Paris

25. Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet

26. Denim or Leather

27. Potions or Spells

28. Desert or Ocean

29. Mermaid or Siren

30. Masquerade Ball or Cocktail Party

Tagging: @cutiefruitypatootieauri @sandfordsmostwanted @petalstofish @xtina-g @zacefronisanalien @teasockschocolate @takeharryandgo @b20017 @incorrect-tgs-quotes @thegirlwholoveshistory

I just tagged some blogs I follow and enjoy scrolling through (excluding the ones @you-guys--are-losers already tagged, also I have no one else to tag, god I’m lame) so you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to :) 

[jackmansjoy]

Get To Know Me Tag

Rules - tag 20 ppl you wanna get to know better

Tagged by @cameron-goodkins-wife thanks love!

Nicknames - Legit all I have is C or my childhood bestfriend and his family call me RaRa because he couldn’t say “Ciera” when we were little so he just said that instead haha 

Gender - female

Star sign - Scorpio ayeeee

Height - 5'7"

Sexuality - Bisexual 

Hogwarts house - Okay legit I’m having a whole identity crisis over this very question. I’ve always said I was a Slytherin and proud af about it. But now everyone I know is like “are you sure dude?? you seem much more like a Gryffindor....” and IM CONFUSION WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? So this is hard. I’m gonna say Slytherin. Just know I could be a Slytherdor if that’s a thing you recognize. 

Fav animal - Penguins or otters. Don’t make me choose like this. 

Hours I sleep a night - Probably like 9 on a good night 

Dogs or cats - I love them both. Right now I have a doggo tho and he is my world. 

Number of blankets I sleep with - like 3-4 which makes no sense because I’m always hot but here we are kids.

Dream trip - I want to travel all over Europe at some point in my life, but if you’re going to make me choose I would love to go to London. 

Dream job - Alright well if we’re going for something I always wished I could do but don’t think I could I’d say acting or comedy. 

When I made the account - In 2 days it’ll have been 3 months since I made this beautiful sideblog. 

Why I made the account - I had just seen The Greatest Showman and felt so alone because I had no one to talk to about it. So I basically came here to scream into the void that is tumblr about this movie and now here I am with some great friends because of it. Also shoutout to TGS fandom because y’all are incredible <3

# of followers - 3,475 and I’m thankful for every single one of you. It’s insane to say that many people are following me honestly, but again, love all of you <3

Alright so I don’t even know if I’m gonna come close to 20 here but I’m tagging:  @three-wishes-not-granted @freakygirlsworld @rewritting-the-stars @teasockschocolate @donthaveanact @1-800-reading @glitterytheatergirl @the-greatest-jackman @phillip-cheesesteak @oddhomosapien @barnumdreams @thesadchicken @fuckbarnum @picnokinesis @crown-of-the-circus-king @circuskingfeels @barlyletrash