Actually the worst thing to come out of the new pjo series is people deciding Annabeth's dad was 19-22 when he was given her by Athena (and therefore "just a kid at the time" so it's not his fault, he was in debt and couldn't afford it) He was in the middle of/nearly finished with his PhD, the Chase family was rich and he was probably a legacy (college not demigod wise) so no, he was just a shit dad. And she was also like 7 when she ran away and he was already married to her stepmom who was half the problem. Characters can be 30+ actually it's okay I promise
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Reblog for bigger sample size maybe? I really wanna know!
Watching tv, u grow up feeling like everybody starts dating in highschool at the latest and that that's what's supposed to happen, but it's really so different for everyone. I now know plenty of people in their 20s who have never dated anyone.
(Tbh I don't hang out with many people older than me so I haven't heard much from those demographics yet (I'm 22))
Also please tell me about your first date and/or first partner! If u want to :)
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I don’t like Sam x Quorra simply cause it has the same vibes as ‘dumb silly girl who needs smart man to tell her the ways of the world’ vibes.
Maybe if she was explaining Grid life to Sam back, it would be better, but Kevin is the one who tells him about a lot of Grid things. When anyone even bothers to tell Sam about Grid Things.
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Jason found the first strand of white in his hair when he was 15. He didn't bring it up to Bruce; he dyes his hair anyway, and Bruce was mad at him so why bring up something as stupid as grey hairs? He forgot about it. He goes to Ethiopia. And we all know the rest.
Talia is brushing his hair, wondering if he is even really aware of what she is doing, when she finds a few stands of white in his crown. Over the next few months, Jason makes very few improvements. He does little more than look out his window and fuss like a child younger than his years. But he seems to recognise some people: a couple of friendly servants who tend to him the most, Talia, and the little boy trailing silently behind her. His patch of white grows as he does. Slowly but steadily. Ra's tells Talia Jason is a waste of time, resources. But Talia has plans for the boy.
Jason looks at his face reflected in the river beneath him. Really looks at it. It had been 6 months since the Pit, nearly a year since he came back from the dead. A year of puberty had changed him significantly, the Pit seemingly allowing him to grow past three years of desperate hunger and missed milestones. Despite the deep scars that warp and twist his face, his teachers call him young and childish when referring to his appearance (and his attitide), but Jason sees how much he has changed. The shape of his nose, the width of his jaw, his once strawberry-blonde hair has darkened, the curls not as tight as they were. His shoulders are much more broad than he remembers, and he realised last week that he must be almost Dick's height tall for his age now. But what his eyes linger on is the patch of white pushed back from his sweaty forehead. He has a vague memory of a single white hair, of not wanting to tell Bruce finding it important at the time. The single strand has grown into a patch almost the width of his thumb, some strands spread further from the main streak, almost giving it a faded-out look. His teacher calls for him and he turns away from his reflection. What he looks like is unimportant, he has plans to enact.
Bruce looks at the child young man across him, helmet off and pain open to the cold Gotham air. The scars that run from chin to temple are deep, and Bruce remembers the way that part of his child's face hung on by a thread, soot settling into the no longer bleeding flesh and the crevices between his exposed teeth. He remembers what it looked like when it was sewn up; Bruce had opted for a closed-casket funeral in the end, unable to look at his boy's mutilated face, the way his freckles contrasted against his pale skin, never to flush or tan or sunburn again. What he also remembers is finding a lone strand of white hair in his son's curly bangs weeks prior, not wanting to bring it up lest he upset the boy. Willis was grey at the temples in his mugshot, and he was only 27, and Sheila bleached her hair to hide her own salt and pepper strands despite being only 35. His boy had earned a few premature grey hairs, after everything he had been through, but a 15 year old boy might not feel the same way, and Bruce did not want to damage Jason's confidence. The strand had grown in his absence, now bright and obvious in the dim lighting. Bruce's hands shook as he plucked a batarang from his belt. His hands never shook, and so he didn't notice when they shook as he took aim at the barrel of the gun. He should have noticed how they shook.
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