whimsicalcherry

[whimsicalcherry]

Don't get me wrong I LOVE strong male and female friendships

HOWEVER

They were in love, wife, and husband *kiss kiss*, and I will NOT see them any other way!!!

[whimsicalcherry]

Petals and Seafoam

Percy Jackson x F! reader

Warnings: mentions blood and coughing up flower Petals, uhhh, I think that's all..? If not, lmk!

A/n: I have been absolutely obsessed With the idea of a child of Demeter & hanahaki it's just so fitting I wish there were more Sadly however there are not many so I'm adding to the collection and just more Demeter reader in general as a cabin 4 girly it makes me so giddy to see a child of Demeter fic this is going to be angst but i also have a draft where they confess and she doesn't yk... but anywho, the angst just fits more ok thats all enjoy bye bye :)

(not proofread, btws)

Camp Half-Blood had always been a strange blend of danger and magic, but for you, it was home.

As a child of Demeter, you were one with the earth. Flowers bloomed under your fingertips, vines curled protectively around you when you slept, and your siblings teased you for being the one Demeter kid who preferred ocean breezes over the forest stillness.

Because Percy Jackson was your sun.

Ever since you arrived, younger and awkward and far too soft for a demigod, Percy had taken your hand and never let go. Training, quests, campfires, sneaking late-night blue snacks from the dining pavilion—everything was better with him.

He was your best friend.

But you wanted more.

---

You noticed the petals first.

Small. Pale. Floating in the sink after you coughed one night in Cabin 4.

"Just allergies," you told yourself.

But deep down, you knew. Hanahaki. Love unspoken, love unreturned—it was eating you from the inside. Your siblings noticed the change: how you stopped tending the camp gardens, how your laughter wilted, how you stopped sitting beside Percy at dinner.

"Tell him," your sister Bramble whispered one night, brushing petals from your pillow.

"He loves you, too," added your friend Silena gently.

But you shook your head, too afraid. What if they were wrong? What if telling him ruined everything?

So you smiled and pulled away.

---

Percy was confused at first.

He asked Annabeth, "Did I mess up?"

He asked Grover, "Did I say something weird?"

They both smiled in that knowing way, trying to convince him: "She loves you, Seaweed Brain. She always has."

So he planned to tell you. Finally. To storm into the Demeter cabin, confess everything, and pull you into his arms.

But you were gone.

---

Percy jogged across the campgrounds, clutching a sunflower he'd picked in nervous excitement. The day was unusually quiet, the air too still. As he neared Cabin 4, he spotted your sister standing by the door, red-rimmed eyes, a folded paper trembling in her hands.

"Hey! Have you seen Y/n?" he asked, grinning wide. “She hasn’t answered any of my Iris messages and I’ve been looking everywhere.”

Your sister swallowed. “Oh... Percy, she uh… Y/n passed this morning.”

He blinked. Laughed once. “No, really? Where is she?”

“Percy,” her voice cracked, “I’m being serious. She had hanahaki. She didn’t tell anyone. But… she wrote you a letter.”

His hand shook as he took the paper. No, this was a prank. You couldn’t—

You wouldn’t—

He ran to his cabin, shut the door behind him, and unfolded your handwriting.

---

**Dear Percy,**

I don’t know how to say this in person. I never could. Every time you smiled at me, I forgot how to breathe. I guess that’s ironic now.

I love you.

I’ve loved you since the first time you offered me blue candy at the campfire, and I’ve loved you more every single day. But I didn’t want to ruin what we had. You’re the best thing in my life, and I was afraid if I told you, I’d lose you.

Turns out I was losing myself anyway.

I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just… hoped it would go away.

Don’t blame yourself. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. You gave me more happiness than I ever thought I’d have. I'm not writing this to make you feel bad For not loving me back I just want you to know you were always special to me.

I just wish I’d been brave enough to tell you all of this in person.

Love always,

**Y/n**

---

Percy didn’t move for hours.

He clutched the letter like a lifeline, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he whispered. “I love you. I loved you.”

The sunflower wilted in his fist.

---

A week later, the camp buried you under a hill of wildflowers that never stopped blooming. Vines twisted lovingly around your grave, and Demeter herself sent a breeze scented with lavender and earth.

Every morning, Percy sat by the flowers, whispering secrets to the wind.

And sometimes, when the sea breeze carried your name, he swore he heard your laughter.

--

A/n: While I love this, I kinda hate it, but I love it too. idk what you think ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ

[whimsicalcherry]

Summer love ♡

Percy Jackson x Gn!reader

A/n: This is the first of my story that I've posted bc I figured I might as well it's kinda cliche but I love it not proofread at all, but yeah, that's all :)

The summer of 2008 was the kind that glowed golden in memory — heat shimmering off the pavement, the hum of cicadas in the trees, and the scent of honeysuckle drifting in from Great Aunt Judy’s garden. My parents had shipped me off to her quaint town nestled just outside New York City while they worked through what they called a “rough patch.” At fifteen, I was old enough to know what that meant, but young enough to pretend I didn’t.

Aunt Judy’s house was a maze of creaking floors, floral wallpaper, and a scrappy terrier named Kip who seemed to have a vendetta against the squirrels and mailmen of the neighborhood. One humid afternoon, Kip escaped through the screen door with the agility of a canine ninja. I gave chase, barefoot, yelling his name as he darted across the street.

That’s when it happened.

The world blurred — a car horn blared, tires screeched, and I felt a strong arm pull me back by the waist. I landed hard on the sidewalk, heart in my throat, Kip barking wildly in the distance.

“You okay?” asked a voice, low and steady.

I looked up to see him. The boy from across the street. Black hair, tousled and unruly. Sea-green eyes so vivid they looked almost unreal. He was maybe a year older, tall, lean, wearing a threadbare band T-shirt and the kind of lopsided grin that stuck with you.

“You almost got pancaked,” he said, helping me up.

“I noticed,” I muttered, embarrassed.

He laughed and introduced himself. “I’m Percy.”

That was the beginning.

---

Percy became my entire summer. We were inseparable — two kids orbiting each other in that suspended time where nothing feels real, yet everything feels important. We biked around the cracked streets of the neighborhood, racing past blooming magnolia trees, daring each other to jump into The Lake fully clothed, screaming as the cold water swallowed us whole. He showed me the hidden trails behind the old church and took me to his favorite record store downtown. We talked about everything: music, family, fears, dreams.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the fireflies began their soft dance, Percy turned to me on the front porch of Aunt Judy’s house.

“I think I like you,” he said, voice low, tentative.

I looked down at my chipped nail polish and swallowed hard.

“I have to leave,” I said. “I’m only here for the summer.”

His eyes searched mine, sad but not angry. “I kind of figured.”

---

We didn’t keep in touch. Life happened. I went back home, back to school, then college, then a job in the city. I got engaged to a man my friends liked and my parents approved of, but they didn't really know what he was like. He also happened to cheat on me more than once. I ignored the red flags until I couldn’t anymore.

Then, in a twist of fate, I walked into an interview for a creative director position at a boutique agency. The door opened, and there he was.

Percy.

Older now. His hair still black, a little shorter. His sea-green eyes? Just as piercing.

“You’re here for the interview?” he asked, blinking in surprise.

“I am,” I replied, heart pounding.

We didn’t talk much during the formal part, but after, as I gathered my things, he grinned that same lopsided grin.

“Want to grab a cup of coffee?”

---

We talked for hours that afternoon, like no time had passed. He told me about his graphic design firm. I told him about the wedding I was no longer planning. We laughed, sighed, shared silences.

Over the next few weeks, we met again. And again. Each time, those old feelings stretched and yawned back to life. He was still Percy — thoughtful, funny, endlessly kind. And I was finally ready to listen to the part of myself I’d silenced for too long.

One rainy evening, as we sat in his apartment watching the storm paint the windows with light, I said it:

“I ended it. With him.”

Percy looked at me for a long moment, then reached over and gently took my hand.

“I was hoping you would.”

--

That summer of 2003 became more than just a memory. It became the start of something real — something that took years to find its way back, but did, when we were ready.

And this time, I wasn’t leaving.

[whimsicalcherry]

a quick psa to anyone recently getting into greek mythology and is a victim of tumblr and/or tiktok misconceptions:

-there is no shame in being introduced to mytholgy from something like percy jackson, epic the musical or anything like that, but keep in mind that actual myths are going to be VERY different from modern retellings

-the myth of medusa you probably know (her being a victim of poseidon and being cursed by athena) isn't 100% accurate to GREEK mythology (look up ovid)

-there is no version of persephone's abduction in which persephone willingly stays with hades, that's a tumblr invention (look up homeric hymn to demeter)

-as much as i would like it, no, cerberus' name does not mean "spot" (probably a misunderstanding from this wikipedia article)

-zeus isn't the only god who does terrible things to women, your fav male god probably has done the same

-on that note, your fav greek hero has probably done some heinous shit as well

-gods are more complicated than simply being "god of [insert thing]", many titles overlap between gods and some may even change depending on where they were worshipped

-also, apollo and artemis being the gods of the sun and the moon isn't 100% accurate, their main aspects as deities originally were music and the hunt

-titans and gods aren't two wholly different concepts, titan is just the word used to decribe the generation of gods before the olympians

-hector isn't the villain some people make him out to be

-hephaestus WAS married to aphrodite. they divorced. yes, divorce was a thing in ancient greece. hephaestus' wife is aglaia

-ancient greek society didn't have the same concepts of sexuality that we have now, it's incorrect to describe virgin goddesses like artemis and athena as lesbians, BUT it's also not wholly accurate to describe them as aromantic/asexual, it's more complex than that

-you can never fully understand certain myths if you don't understand the societal context in which they were told

-myths have lots and lots of retellings, there isn't one singular "canon", but we can try to distinguish between older and newer versions and bewteen greek and roman versions

-most of what you know about sparta is probably incorrect

-reading/waching retellings is not a substitute to reading the original myths, read the iliad! read the odyssey! i know they may seem intimidating, but they're much more entertaining than you may think

greek mythology is so complex and interesting, don't go into it with preconcieved notions! try to be open to learn!

[whimsicalcherry]

GIVE ME ENEMIES TO LOVERS!!!

WHERE’D THEY ALL GO??

i remember when this used to be a real society,

with top-tier literature smh…

GIMME THE BANTER AGAIN!!!

[whimsicalcherry]

Me when y/n is acting like a little fucking child for male validation

[whimsicalcherry]

I’m tired of saying no hate when I’m the biggest hater 😕

[whimsicalcherry]

What To Do When It Happens

Write it down. The date. The time. What they said. What you said. What you couldn’t. This isn’t overreacting. It’s documenting.

Tell someone you trust. Not the one who explains it away. The one who believes you.

Save everything. Emails, DMs, texts. Rename the folder something boring.

Find the policy. It’s probably buried under “Respect in the Workplace.” Highlight it like your job depends on it—because it might.

Pay attention to what happens next. The silence. The cold shoulder. The missed invites. That counts too.

If it gets worse, you're not imagining it. Retaliation is common. It’s also illegal.

Don’t quit just to make it stop. Not before you talk to someone. A lawyer. A hotline. A friend who’s been there.

Crying in the bathroom is not unprofessional. Neither is dissociating. Nor surviving.

It’s okay to stay. It’s okay to leave. Either way, you’re strong.

What happened to you matters. Even if you stayed quiet. Even if you laughed. Even if you stayed quiet for a long, long, time.

NOTE: I wrote this on paper first (pic above) but realised my handwriting is mostly indecipherable trash. Didn't want to put you through that. Also, can people born after 2000 even read cursive nowadays? I truly have no idea.

😇😌🫨

[whimsicalcherry]

The Annotated Version of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Summary: Spencer starts secretly leaving annotated books for you, each filled with sticky notes. First thoughtful, then personal, then deeply emotional.

Content: Fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, first kiss!!, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers

W/C: 956

A/N: Second fan fic!!! I think I died like 30 times while writing this. I NEED A MAN WHO YEARNS FOR ME LIKE THIS. To all my literature obsessed baddies, enjoy, love y’all fr.🩷

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I didn’t think anything of it at first.

There was just this book, The Bell Jar, sitting on my desk one morning. No note. No explanation. Just placed there like it belonged. I assumed someone left it by accident, until I saw Spencer walk by. He didn’t even say anything, just gave me this quiet little smile and kept walking.

I know it sounds dumb, but something about the way he looked at me made it obvious. It was from him.

So I took it home and that night, curled up on my bed with it, I opened to the first page and found this tiny sticky note stuck to the margin. His handwriting was small and neat, way too careful to be casual.

He’d underlined a sentence:

“I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”

And next to it, he wrote:

“You said something kind of like this once. Back in Colorado, when everyone was talking over each other. You just sat there and saw through all of it. I don’t know, I thought of you.”

And I just… stared at it. For way too long. It wasn’t just a book. It was him. Spencer, but a version of him that said things he probably wouldn’t say out loud. Not yet, at least.

A few days later, there was another one. The Secret History. Left in the same quiet, careful way.

This time he’d underlined:

“This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.”

His note said:

“Some stories are like that. They just stick. So do some people.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. I reread it like ten times. Maybe more. It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to see, except… he wanted me to.

Then it became a thing. Every week or so, a new book. A new note. It was like this secret conversation, but only one of us was talking.

Letters to a Young Poet had:

“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”

His handwriting next to it said:

“You’re really good at giving people space. Not just physical space, but the kind that makes them feel safe being themselves. I’ve learned a lot just by being around you.”

I don’t even remember reading the rest of that chapter. I just sat there holding the book, thinking: What the hell is happening.

Then came Giovanni’s Room.

“He wanted to say something which would hurt me and yet not alarm me too much.”

He wrote:

“You’re not cold. I think people assume that when you’re quiet. But you’re just careful. It’s not the same.”

I had to close the book after that one. It was too much. Too personal. Like he’d figured out something about me I hadn’t even really said out loud yet.

And finally, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. The kind of book that hits you like a punch.

“Let me begin again. Dear Ma, I am writing to reach you—even if each word I put down is one word further from where you are.”

Spencer’s note said:

“Sometimes I feel like that with you. I don’t know if I’m saying too much or not enough. But I’m trying.”

I didn’t even know what to do with myself after that one. I just sat there with the book open in my lap and my heart absolutely wrecked.

And then, because he apparently likes to kill me emotionally, he gives me Pride and Prejudice. No notes through most of it. I thought maybe the whole thing had stopped.

But then, at the end, I found it.

He underlined:

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

And underneath:

“If I were a book, you’d be the only person I’d want to dog-ear me.”

I froze. Literally just… stopped functioning. That wasn’t just flirty. That was intentional. That was a line. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, say something? Ignore it? Explode?? So I picked up a pen, hands shaking like a total cliché, and wrote back:

“I don’t dog-ear books. But I reread the ones I can’t forget.”

I left it on his desk the next morning and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

Hours passed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. I spiraled. Fully convinced I’d misread everything and ruined our friendship forever. But later that night, when almost everyone else had left, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, and there he was, holding the book. His face was… unreadable, but soft. Like he wasn’t sure what to say either.

He looked at me for a long second, then said, “Did you mean it?”

And I whispered, softly, almost inaudible “Yeah. I did.”

He stepped closer, and I swear I could hear my own heartbeat. “You never wrote in the others.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to,” I said, barely managing to get the words out.

Spencer looked at me like I’d just confessed something sacred. “You always were.”

There was this long pause. Not awkward. Just… full. Like the air between us had weight. And then he kissed me. Slow and a little hesitant at first, like he was giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t. It felt like finally turning the last page of a book you’ve been savoring for so long. And realizing the ending was even better than you hoped.

When he pulled back, he smiled softly and whispered. “I have more books.”

And I grinned like a complete idiot and said, “Let’s start a library”

[whimsicalcherry]

snoopy of the day

[whimsicalcherry]

Fasciation - a type of deformity in flowers🌼

It can happen as a result of random mutation, infection from disease, bacteria, or hormone imbalance

[whimsicalcherry]

From the makers of rats full of soup, I am pleased to bring you soup full of rat 🥫🐀

[whimsicalcherry]

Mikey Madison as Anora Mikheeva — ANORA (2024) dir. Sean Baker

[whimsicalcherry]

Anora (2024)

Dir. Sean Baker

Language: English, Russian

[whimsicalcherry]

🌟(• ˕ •マ🟡🟠🔵🟢 ...LINK!

[whimsicalcherry]

snoopy of the day

[whimsicalcherry]

STRAUME / FLOW (2024), dir Gints Zilbalodis