ablique

Klav looking over Apollo while he eeps...

I drew him as a betta to match how flashy he is (or perceived to be) and i think there's smth to be said abt betta fish territorial behavior and flashing the fins/gills as a show of aggression but I can't rlly string together any coherent thoughts rn

Please ignore the anatomy i made up 🫶 i left my morpho anatomy books at my uni apt so uh we balled. If it were up to me I would've made the tail even bigger + longer bc i believe in mermaids having functionally proportioned tails but then the canvas would be way too big

I might redraw him as a lionfish to match w kristoph when I get around to him

This is so fucking embarrassing dude oh my god his neck is way too long but im too lazy to go back to the ipad and fix it and re export it and re-download it onto my phone 😭 but I thought it's be cool if some mermaid fashion included using fish hooks as piercings (like on his caudal fin). Could also be a sign of ignorant status (of varying levels depending on where it's worn) bc it's like I can afford to have a weight on my tail and not be in any danger, like how ripped jeans went from being a sign of poverty to a fashion statement. Theres no logic for his long ass chain 腰佩 idk what to call it in eng is just feel like he'd have that kind of unnecessary bling

Anyways. Bonus klapolly!!

w/ small notes and allat :D

In their first year, Percy and Oliver do not like eachother whatsoever mostly because of their very different personalities and the fact that them being roommates mean that they are in close quarters most of the time which amplifies their disdain towards one another. They pull harmless but very irritating pranks on one another (Oliver will knot Percy’s shoe laces together while he’s getting ready, Percy will charm their shower water to be either too hot or too cold whenever Oliver is showering, etc.) They have a routine of this and no one really gets in the way or try’s to stop it.

As the year goes on it escalates to kicking eachother under tables, pinching eachother when walking past, slight shoving, and snickering behind the others back. This continues onto their second year too. It’s a steady routine for them and then one day, someone disturbs it. Oliver noticed that midway through the year Percy is reciprocating less, or rather, reciprocating with less vigor. And it annoys him to no end because ‘I’m hating him with my entire being while he’s only hating me with a fraction of his?’ And he tries to increase the intensity of the pranks hoping it will spark a reaction out of him. It does not. He starts observing Percy more and notices that he’s flinching at small things now, someone tripping behind him, someone laughing too hard, and he’s constantly looking over his shoulder in fear.

Oliver is absolutely stumped. He starts, what he calls, ‘observations for data collection’ which is in fact, just stalking. He starts stalking Percy to try and figure out what is wrong and set it right so they can go back to how they were. And what Oliver eventually finds is that Percy is being severely bullied physically and verbally by a group of 4th years. Oliver is fucking livid. Only he is allowed to say shit to and about Percy, only he is allowed to shove him and kick him and hurt him. That is his right alone. No one else gets to do that. But he’s smart enough (contrary to Percy beliefs) to know that he can’t take one a group of 4th years by himself.

He stays frozen and watches in horror, committing every tiny detail of Percy’s attackers to memory. He also watches Percy. He watches his pale face twist in pain, he watches his blue eyes glass over with tears, he watches his lips quiver and tremble as the become soaked with blood, he watches his thin pale hands and long bony fingers grip his attackers arm in a feeble effort to get him to stop. He watches Percy and is overcome with a sense of possession, only he is allowed to bother Percy, no one else is. When the attack is over, Oliver remains hidden as he watches Percy pick himself up, clean up his blood with another bloodstained napkin, he watches Percy cast some small healing charms and he watches Percy’s face return to its proud, pompous self. But now, he sees the exhaustion and pain lining Percy’s eyes, he sees the faint tear marks across his cheeks, he sees his bottom lip swollen from biting it too hard. He sees a vulnerable side of Percy, a side which he swears no one will ever see again.

If Charlie and his friends somehow found out about Percy’s assault, it wasn’t Oliver’s business. But he made sure to hide and watch closely as Charlie’s fist went down on the 4th years cheek, leaving a bright red mark reminiscent of Percy’s injuries. Oliver Wood never felt such glee in his life.

In their third year, Percy began noticing something was seriously wrong with Oliver wood. He was staring, a lot. And Percy couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. As the Great Feast concluded, Percy went up to his dorm, hoping to reach there before Oliver could. This year would be stressful, just considering the twins alone. Adding on all his schoolwork, bullying, and Oliver, he could feel the urge to light a cigarette re-emerging. When Oliver came back to the dorm, his first words were not mean, or mocking, or cruel. They were inquisitive. ‘How was your break?’ ‘Are the twins any good at Quidditch?’ ‘How was the feast?’ Percy blinked. The fuck? ‘It… it was good’ ‘yeah, they’re good’ (said with annoyance) ‘the chicken was a little dry’ He didn’t even know why he was answering. He was just so… confused? ‘Why are you talking to me?’ Oliver shrugged ‘the pranks are fun, don’t get me wrong I’m not gonna stop, but talking to you may be fun too’ And so, Oliver’s voyage of officially becoming Percy Weasleys ‘best friend’ began.

To Oliver, becoming Percys ‘best’ friend wasn’t difficult, becoming Percys friend, however, was a challenge rivaling The Twelve Labors of Hercules. Percy was still looking over his shoulder at every second, still flinching at the slightest movements, and in general, didn’t trust him. And that frustrated Oliver to no end. Oliver wouldn’t hurt Percy! Not like that… he likes Percy really. Since talking to him more, Oliver became ever more fond of Percy. Percy was funny, he had a lovely, dry humor that sparked surprisingly loud laughs from him constantly at every hour; he was sweet but tried not to show it, he would instantly fawn over Oliver when he came to the dorm with injuries from Quidditch, then remember that he is not supposed to like Oliver and pull him arms back grumbling about him being an idiot. And to Oliver, and to most people Oliver thought, Percy was very pretty.

Percy ‘fondness’ for Oliver quickly grew into adoration. He adored Oliver. Oliver was everything. He was funny, and kind, and sweet, beautiful, radiant, smart, strong. Percy is sure he could wax pages of poetry for him (and chooses to ignore that he already has). Percy never found their game of pranks to be cruel. Irritating and annoying, yes, humiliating at times too, but Oliver had never been malicious in his pranks. They were children, and Percy had much thicker skin from growing up with the twins. Oliver’s words, however, hurt Percy more than any kicks or punches could. That’s probably when Percy should have known of his adoration for Oliver. He though of him constantly, even when he ‘hated’ him.

4th and 5th year was when things became difficult. Oliver became Quidditch captain, Percy became prefect. Oliver’s fondness grew into infatuation, Percy’s adoration became true love. Oliver’s protectiveness became something closer to possession, and Percy’s obsession became more consuming. Oliver believed that Percy would never love him, and Percy believed that Oliver would never love him either. Oliver drowned himself in anyone else who would take him, men or women, and Percy drowned himself in cigarettes and calming drought and working himself to exhaustion. Oliver was overcome with shame, and Percy was overcome with self-hate. They still cared for one another. They always tried to life the burden of the other. All while pushing their love for eachother back out of fear.

in 6th and 7th year, Oliver became overwhelmingly jealous. Yes, he would fuck anyone who would take him, but they never kept their face for too long. Along the way, between sweaty bodies, Oliver’s vision would be overcome with an auburn red, vibrant, messy curls became intangled beneath his palm, skin would become pale and smooth with endless freckles, teary eyes would become a blue sea with crystal like tears dripping from them. Oliver would finish, leave with no more than five words spoken, if any at all, and go back to Percy. Always back to Percy.

Percy grew to become beautiful, gorgeous, even. To Oliver, he was Ethereal. And Oliver knew that he was not the only one who saw it. Countless people, men and women, tried to get close to the oblivious prefect. Other prefects, touching his arm, gazing longingly, wanting obviously. Other students and fucking Quidditch players too. Percy never noticed. Or if he did, he ignored them. Be never ignored Oliver though. Oliver wouldn’t let anyone else touch Percy, he wouldn’t even let people look at him. Percy was, by all accounts, his. What Oliver didn’t know, was that Percy felt the same.

To Percy, Oliver was his sun. And some days, Percy would either be the Earth, made to revolve around him, or he would be Icarus. And Percy was more than happy to be that. He was more than happy to be cursed to either die due to his obsession and infatuation with Oliver, or be cursed to forever be obsessed with a man who would never love him.

After Hogwarts, their infatuation for one another only grew. And they didn’t help quell it. They lived together, Percy loosing himself in his job, trying to find something he could obsess over more than his roommate who was in no way, shape, or form, in love with him. Oliver feared that his love for Percy was too obvious, and threw himself into Quidditch and cheap (later expensive as his status in the Quidditch world grew) firewhiskey and short flings. Things came to a drastic halt for Oliver when Percy came home one day, with a fucking bouquet of roses. To clarify, not from Oliver. Percy came home blushing like a bride, clutching the clearly cheap bouquet to his chest while shyly mentioning a co-worker who gifted them to him. Oliver was livid. Percy was his. He was supposed to give Percy flowers. No one else deserved that joy. The joy of watching Percy’s face grow a pink hue and watch him stutter and endearingly smile.

Months pass. Percy comes home with gifts every other week. Oliver grows more angry each time. But Percy was happy. He was lightly smiling, enjoying the attention and having someone shower him with gifts. He blushed whenever someone mentioned his ‘secret admirer’ (he likely wasn’t secret but if Oliver put a face or name to it he would actually lose his mind).

Ensure months more of tension and snapping and anger and one marvelous fight in the rain after Oliver saw Percy and his admirer kiss which ends with an angry love confession and a lovely end to years of tension, toxic co-dependency, jealously, possessiveness, and obsessiveness which sprouts into adorable, pure, sweet love.