#and this version sucks; i know

[jackklinemybeloved]

[…]

Percy’s warning to fellow half-bloods in the audience, across different mediums.

The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan (2005) The Lighting Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical (2017) Percy Jackson and the Olympians Series Teaser (2023)

[each-uisge-enthusiast]

the modern villainisation of demeter will never cease to enrage me bc it wasn’t ENOUGH to just take a story of a girl being torn from her home from everyone who loved her and dragged away to be forced into marriage and twist and corrupt it until it was a romance story about female empowerment that wasn’t ENOUGH they HAD to take the original hero of the story the mother who went to every length to find her daughter again to bring her home and demonise her character until she was this horrific overbearing unloving mother. overprotective controlling without love. they turn the story of her grief at her YOUNG daughter being torn from her without her knowledge into the story of a misunderstood bad boy and a horrible cruel mother who won’t give him a chance and i really find it sickening. it’s ironic, that the ever misogynist age of hellenistic greece, has a better grasp of how disgusting and horrifying this situation was that a modern, self proclaimed ‘feminist’ era.

[boylikeanangel]

mean absolutely zero hate by this at all but talking to non book fans casually about certain details of the book is literally the funniest shit ever like yall are so sweet you dont know anything. yes aziraphale gets called a faggot in the book. by an eleven year old girl. and yes crowley revives the dove at the birthday party not aziraphale. and book fans got so mad about this change that they initially boycotted the show when it came out in 2019. dont worry I dont get it either. please continue to be confused about all this it makes my day every time I see someone in my tags be outraged they put homophobic slurs in a book written in 1989 <3

[sibylsleaves]

thinking about how little compassion buck probably has for Buck 1.0 still to this day......thinking about how he still views that version of himself as just this fuck up instead of a young man with heaps & heaps of trauma who was given absolutely zero tools to deal with any of it......thinking about the disdain with which he said "you mean you don't want him to end up like ME" about chris in 7x01......

[suzukiblu]

Please, cuddling, and TimKon?

. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??

“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . . 

Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .

Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all. 

Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he– 

He’s been careful about it. 

But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway. 

Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly. 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.

He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . . 

Kon’s normal about that. About all of this. 

(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that– 

he doesn’t. 

definitely.)

“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . . 

It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all. 

Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything. 

Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just– 

“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would– 

He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . . 

He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah. 

“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face. 

He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just– 

“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” 

He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he– 

(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–

but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)

He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just– 

But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t. 

Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet. 

Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist. 

“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–” 

“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is. 

He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time. 

He really, really tried. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.

[deoidesign]

important distinction.

Testing a few different things with this one

[somegrumpynerd]

It's interesting to think about how, to me at least, Dust and Killer are like mirror versions of each other.

One who joins a villain enthusiastically, jumps at the chance to leave his past behind and have a purpose again, and the other who has to be dragged in, would rather rot in the consequences of his own actions.

One who needs orders, needs the distraction and the action and the thrill, can't sit alone with his thoughts for too long lest he hear them clearly, and the other who can't bring himself to ignore the ghost over his shoulder, would rather sit in place and listen to his own self loathing parroted back at him than stand up and find a way to drown it out.

One who doesn't associate with his past anymore, that wasn't me and I wasn't him, and cannot stand the thought of going back from where he came, and the other who wants nothing more than to be his old self again but feels so strongly that he doesn't deserve to return to the life he tore down himself.

They both wear their new names like dog collars, but one is a gift given by someone else because he's theirs, he has somewhere he belongs that he's expected to return to, and the other is a choker tying him to a post, warning others of his danger while never allowing him to get out of arm's reach of his past.

And getting them both back-to-back while trying to understand mortals was probably enough to give Nightmare whiplash

[skitskatdacat63]

I've decided to do myself what the cowards at Aston won't. Behold.

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[sanseru]

Decided that Arthur and John would be my subjects for some figure/rendering practice.

I think I'mma just... lie down for a bit......

God I love these bastards too much. Someone free me

[mephoj]

late night chat

[never-ending-pizza-time]

I think some people forget that peppino can be kind of a jerk. He's not your perfect awkward nervous guy who can do no wrong, he is not perfect, but that doesn't make him a bad guy. He has flaws, because thats a normal human thing to have.

Sometimes he gets angry and a bit mean, sometimes he takes joy in beating the shit out of the tower residents, sometimes he gets selfish or says something mean to someone. His anxiety is not his only flaw, please don't forget that. He is not a perfect sunshine boy who can do no wrong. He is not nice and friendly 100% of the time. He is a human person, he is a complex being who cannot be easily defined as completely good or completely bad.

Sometimes good people do shitty things. Sometimes a person will not act in the kindest way possible. Sometimes someone will do something not realising (or caring) how it makes others feel. Sometimes people have bad days. Sometimes people make mistakes. Sometimes people are wrong.

Peppino is a human, he is not immune to being a jerk sometimes. Again, this doesn't make him a bad person, it just makes him human, and I don't want people to forget that and misinterpret him as being someone whos only flaw is his anxiety. Yes it is a key part of his character, but theres more to this guy than that, thats not his only flaw or imperfection or whatever you want to call it. He's not 'kind perfect guy who also has anxiety', theres more detail to who he is than that.

Peppino can be a bit mean, Peppino can be hotheaded, and you know what? Thats okay because thats what a person is like sometimes, and that is a sign of a complex and realisticly written character (even if he is a cartoon guy, his personality still feels realistic). He's not the same guy all of the time, he doesnt respond to every situation in the same way, he's not a one note character. Sometimes he sucks as a person, but its okay because despite all that, he's a loveable and endearing character, and he isn't a horrible terrible person, he just is human, and thats okay.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Shinya said this about the writing process for The Devil In Me:

"In all of our singles and album songs, I don't think I've ever composed a song while knowing so little about it. I did not even know if the chorus would have a melody or a death voice. Therefore, I worked on it while vaguely having an image of things like: 'I wonder if this part will open up?'

----In the end, when the vocals came, were they what you had imagined?

It mostly matched. But even now, I still can't really grasp it, and it is difficult to understand. Why it turned out like that, I still don't know."

(Usually, Shinya has the vocals file already when he composes the drums for a new song.)

[zootnootnoot]

Some more Alric, because he has not left my brain (ft. Professor Dalia Falmea)

[kagoutiss]

*complaining for no reason again because i am bored* i need more ppl to know that these. are all the same person these are literally canonically all the exact same individual person im begging u

literally almost all the ganondorfs are the exact same individual and almost all the ganons are the exact same individual, almost all the ganondorfs & ganons are the same exact person just in different forms and circumstances. except for FSA and maybe whatever the fuck is going on with TotK ganondorf but i still think it’s weird that he still has golden eyes & rounded ears when even the gerudo in TotK’s ancient past dont, but anyway ashfjsbfjsn

[wildechildwrites]

Lucky Charms

Looney Tunes Part Two

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

No use of Y/N

Summary: You have some more encounters with König, the mysterious man who lives in your apartment building.

A/N: König being unintentionally terrifying is so funny. He’s shy and he’s a giant murderer for hire, excuse him for constantly throwing off the vibe. Let me know if you want to be tagged in part three!

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

You've got bags of groceries hanging from your arms, pinching at your skin, precariously balanced, a white knuckle grip on the laundry detergent that's determined to slip through your fingers before you reach your apartment. The man steps on the elevator with you, and you can feel your face heating up as he looks at you.

You haven't seen him since the night he'd kissed you, and you wondered if he thought of you everytime he rode the elevator. You certainly thought of him.

He makes no effort to disguise his staring, looking down at you with a flat expression, taking in your overflowing arms.

"I hate making more than one trip to my car," you say, answering the question he didn’t ask, shrugging as much as you can with your arms full. You swear you see his eyebrow twitch.

Amusement? Irritation? It's impossible to read him. Instead, you drop your gaze, feeling his eyes still on you.

"My name is König." He says abruptly. Your eyes jump back up to his face, and it's his turn to look away as you grin, introducing yourself.

When you go to get off the elevator, he plucks the detergent out of your hand, gesturing silently for some of the bags you carry. He follows you to your apartment soundlessly, placing the bags down outside of your door. You throw your 'thank you' at his retreating form, and he doesn't acknowledge it.

Later, when you're putting away your groceries, you say his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue.

One of the lights in the parking garage is flickering again, and you sigh in annoyance as you look up at it. The apartment complex took months to fix the last broken bulb, so you’re unenthusiastic about the prospects of a quick repair. It puts you on edge, affecting the visibility and giving the garage an eerie feeling.

“It’s just like a horror movie,” you mumble to yourself, attempting to break the tension you feel as you head towards the exit. It’s late, your workday running longer than it should’ve, and you can’t help the itch of anxiety crawling up your spine.

You pass an unfamiliar man, standing still in between some of the cars. His eyes are on you, and you grip your keys tighter in your hand, speeding up. You hazard a glance over your shoulder and find he's disappeared, and your eyes search the parking lot behind you.

Distracted as you are, unfocused on where you're going, you slam straight into a solid wall of a person. You let out a shriek, head whipping back around and nearly fall backwards as you attempt to scramble away. Two solid hands firmly grip your shoulders, preventing you from tripping. König is standing in front of you, and you sag against his hold in relief.

“You scared me!” you exclaim, a hand going up reflexively to your chest.

“You should be more cautious, häschen,” König responds, and you swear there’s the faintest trace of a smile on his face, the subtle quirk of scarred lips. “Most people look where they are walking to, not where they are walking from.”

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes with a smile, the anxiety seeping out of your body. “The stupid flickering light really freaked me out,” you say, gesturing at the ceiling. “And then there was a man staring at me, but he disappeared.” König nods thoughtfully. His hands are still on your shoulders, and there’s a beat as you both stare at each other.

König clears his throat. “I will speak to the complex maintenance about repairing the light. As for your mystery friend–” König pulls back and slides one finger across his throat. You laugh at the joke, even though he’s not smiling.

König insists on walking you back to your apartment despite your objections, and although you know you were just being silly, you’re touched by the gesture.

“Thank you, König,” you say, lingering in the doorway, and something in his eyes seems to sharpen when you say his name.

You're eating cereal on your couch, watching cartoons when you should be sleeping. It's a childish habit, but after a long day, you're feeling sentimental and too burnt out to process anything with substance. Scrolling through your phone, half paying attention, you almost miss the soft knock on your front door.

König is standing outside, his face obscured by something that looks like an executioner's hood. The gear he's wearing makes him seem even more massive, a mountain of a man standing in front of you.

"May I come in?" He asks, his accented voice low, and you're so caught off guard by the request that your jaw drops.

König stares at you and you stare back, contemplating the matter.

You probably shouldn't let him in, this hulking monster in a mask. You don't even know him really, only interacting a couple of times. He's kissed you, and it was a knee buckling, eye rolling kiss, but does that necessarily grant him access to your apartment?

Your logistical side loses when he lets out a sigh, a huff of air that borders on a whine. You step aside, waving him to the couch as you go to the kitchen to grab another bowl of cereal for him. You want to know why he's here unannounced, but you're unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between the two of you, so you say nothing. He pulls off the mask, eyes on the TV.

“Looney Tunes?” he asks, his voice amused. Daffy Duck lets out a shriek in the silence between you two, and you snort.

“Call it a guilty pleasure,” you reply. König’s eyebrow twitches. You offer him the bowl, and his large fingers brush against yours, shockingly warm and rough. His eyes seem to glint at the contact, an almost avian intensity that makes your skin flush.

You sit down a measured distance away from him, and go back to eating your cereal, attempting to display a level of casual that you do not feel. König seems unaffected, sprawled on your couch, crunching away like he does this every night. He's got his boots on still, tacky with a dark liquid you think could be blood.

"Uh… not that I don't appreciate the company…" you begin after a beat of silence, turning to face him. It's the first time you've seen him really smile, and a part of you is unsure if you like it, the almost predatory glint of teeth.

"I just wanted to see if you'd invite me in." He responds to your unspoken question, his voice rumbling deep from his chest, and there's a sharp edge to his words that make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

There's a beat, and your expression must tip him off to your discomfort because his eyes widen.

"I didn't mean– I am sorry I misspoke– sometimes my translations are–" he's stammering, and you instantly relax, feeling guilty for your involuntary reaction.

"No! No it's okay I was just… surprised. I'm glad for the company" You say in a rush, your voice unnaturally high. "You're always welcome to come over."

He smiles again, softer than before. His eyes haven't quite lost the cutting focus, but you smile back, relaxing a little as he takes another bite of cereal. You fall back into companionable silence.

It's late, and you're starting to fade, eyes drooping, curled up into yourself. König hasn't moved from his post on the end of your couch, his empty bowl still cupped in one hand, and you drowsily wonder if it's a military habit, the way he sits with perfect stillness. You stifle a yawn, and he glances over at you without moving his head.

"It's getting late," he says quietly. You watch as he rises in one fluid motion, large strides leading him with a seemingly practiced familiarity to your kitchen. He places his dish in the sink and reaches for the soap. You sit up.

"It's alright, I'll wash the dishes tomorrow," you call out, wiping your eyes, and he nods. You stand as he heads towards the door, your legs slightly unsteady.

"Thank you for the cereal," he says quietly, a hand on the doorknob. You think there is a light dusting of pink around his ears, but it's too dark to really tell.

You smile at him. "You're welcome."

König pauses, turning towards you.

You idly wonder if he'll kiss you again. He looks down at you with an inscrutable expression, bringing a large hand slowly up to your face, the ghost of his fingertips skimming your jaw. You let out an involuntary gasp at the contact, your skin electrified, and he drops his hand.

He opens the door, and you notice his fingers are still curled, as if he's cupping the sensation of your skin against his, holding it in his palm.

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

"Good night little rabbit," König whispers, a silhouette in your doorway. "Catch you later."

Part Three

Taglist:

All for you @whos-fran my beloved (the first person to ever ask to be tagged)

If anyone else would like to be on the taglist for part three reply or reblog this post :)