#apparently this was a trigger for me

[lukecastellandeservedbetter]

I’m rewatching the Percy Jackson films and I have some serious questions because like, what WAS their plan going forward? Like they defeated Kronos and completed the prophecy it takes five books to do in two movies?? And I’m assuming Luke survived only because they didn’t show his death outright, which is kinda stupid because that’s exactly what they did in the first film too. Would they have gone back and done the possession thing with Luke and Kronos? Would they have done the Achilles Heel thing? Was it still apart of Luke’s plan to revive Thalia? Like I know we saw the crate thing at the end of the second film, but in that case, didn’t Luke “fail”? Would Kronos forgive that? Also, would it make sense for Luke to continue to be the antagonist now that he knows the first thing that would happen if he revived Kronos again is that he’d be eaten? Like, he betrayed everyone he loved and killed Thalia’s tree just to get back at his dad and the Gods and the first thing his great grandfather does is swallow him whole. Personally, I would turn back around and figure something else out, whether that be another way to overthrow the gods or beg for forgiveness. Hermes would probably forgive Luke anyways, given how he was talking and acting about him. Although, Movie!Luke doesn’t feel as much of a wayward kid who never had a solid role model or the space to mature and grow and ultimately turned because he was tired of seeing the gods get everyone he loves killed or worse, and being treated like nothing more than a messenger. Movie!Luke feels more like he’s doing it for power and glory, and although there were three films we didn’t get that could’ve expanded on that and gotten deeper into it, the MUSICAL portrayed that level of pain and exhaustion and desperation Luke felt in less than a two hour show, so it was definitely the writing.

Also why did they make Annabeth so Like That? Annabeth Chase is far from helpless or slow, but they made it seem like she was just there for the ride. If Annabeth hadn’t been in the second movie at all, there would’ve been literally zero difference.

I’m so glad we have the show now and I desperately hope we get to see all 5 seasons.

[mewkwota]

I Know What You Are... You Are Mega Man!

The differences between each Mega is something I love and appreciate, plus it's also fun to compare them side-by-side for it.

I think it's really amusing how they start with robots that slowly reach near-human traits, and then there's a straight-up human. Albeit, he is merged with a non-human being.

And then there's Volnutt. I know he could probably be narrowed down to an "artificial human", but I like the idea of tying him to his celestial origins as Trigger that are still half a mystery.

Such is my running-joke with him. He is just... Volnutt (currently).

[moonkhao]

hi.

[oifaaa]

Gods fucking save me I'm having star wars thoughts again

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

For $5 USD stop making everything about that goddamn show for five minutes.

[jj-dyl]

jey uso, the most tragic man in wrestling right now

[livingdeadhorse]

millions must know of the two named idol group members

Most of the pulled characterization/text is from DR:S, UDG, and DR:Togami. Satomi Aoba is by far the most developed one, she is sooo interesting.

This is for me and the other 3 fans of them...hi guys.

Also "It's Gotta Take Some Skill to be an Idol" is often attributed to Sayaka. Though the lyrics can definitely apply to her, it was Satomi who performed it, not Sayaka. She had nothing to do with the song.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

This is for anyone and everyone who sews, but most especially quilters.

PLEASE REBLOG!!!

[dukeofthomas]

I need people to realize how horrible 'stalking/constant surveillance/breaking into each other's homes is how the Batfamily show love' is. Like i really need someone to just acknowledge how horrific saying this bullshit is.

Like even fics where they're shown as happy and healthy and with good ties, you've always got this thing where none of them have privacy or any boundaries with each other. Which is directly antithetical to actually having good relationships. And this invasion via hacking and stalking and breaking into homes is portrayed as a positive, good thing; it's just how they show love and care to each other, after all. But for some reason I just personally don't find stalking, lack of privacy or boundaries, and emotional manipulation funny, endearing, or healthy, and just end up disgusted at the attempt to sweep it all under the rug.

[several-ravens]

does anyone here know which episodes have anger outbursts like mag56? i kinda want to know but also i don't really want to check the warnings for each episode because i like to discover them as i go

[mewkwota]

Since I was on the topic of Legends, I have more scattered doodles of Trigger that have burned an incomprehensible hole into my brain.

(Trigger's design is by Sato)

[katyspersonal]

Thinking about that time when a popular artist was a prick to me personally (claimed that I "baited" them for a conflict when all I did was pointing out something in lore contradicting their claim, without any rudeness or condescension, and basically told me to go hang out with other autists instead of bothering them) but the reason I blocked them was not that, it was the fact that they've admitted on not even caring about the source material and just using scraps from it to do their own thing. Priorities hfngkfngj

[alaskan-wallflower]

is it true that brody and his 1st understudy are stepping back this week from shows? i keep looking at the accuser’s ig story and there’s just screenshots saying brody isn’t gonna be in the show at all this week. does anyone have speculation on this? where are these people getting their sources from?

is there anyone willing to talk about this and share opinions? because i’m twitching and i kinda need some reinforcing rn because im so conflicted

[ejunkiet]

you’ve got red on you

prompt fill for the wonderful @pinksparkl about Milo’s reaction to Sweetheart having a panic attack in front of him for the first time.

(special bonus points to anyone who recognises the title >:3)

redacted audio: milo/sweetheart, rated teen. cw: panic attacks

Milo comforts his mate after a panic attack. - “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay. Just- breathe.”

READ ON AO3

--

you’ve got red on you

All it takes is a moment of distraction while he’s prepping dinner for his grip on the kitchen knife to slip, the sharp edge slicing across his palm and sending the half-chopped vegetables scattering. “Shit!”

“Milo?”

“S’all good, sweetheart. Just, fucked up with the knife.” It’s an understatement, considering the state of the counters, the blood welling from the cut in his palm spilling over onto the hardwood. Goddamnit. He knew better than to get distracted while using the good knife. Christ, the shit his mother would give him over this-

He wraps his hand in a dishcloth before he stumbles over to the sink, a litany of curses falling from his tongue as he fumbles the taps to turn on the water.

He glances up to find the shape of his mate in the doorway, their features shadowed by the busted light in the hall he’d been meaning to fix before they came over. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just me being a fuckin’ idiot.”

They take a step further into the room, their eyes focused on the bloody dishcloth, and they’re not saying anything, although they look - strange. Off. As if they’re feeling sick.

He sees it when their hands start to shake, their breaths coming fast and shallow, as if they can’t get enough air. The way their eyes lose focus, pupils dilating, even as their aura flickers, their silhouette going hazy around the edges.

“Sweetheart?” They’re still not saying anything, and unease stirs in his gut, prickling at his skin. It’s not like them to lose their words like that - they always had plenty to say. “Hey, you okay?”

“I-” And just like that they vanish, flickering out of existence as if they had never been there in the first place.

Fuck.

He can’t see them. Can’t feel them, the warmth of their presence, their scent. But he can still sense them in the room with him - feel the quiet flicker of their aura, subtle in the air but distinctive, if you know what you’re looking for.

And he’s familiar with that aura now, familiar with finding it in a way that’s becoming second nature to him, and he steps away from the sink, crossing over to where they had been standing, where he thinks he can feel them now.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can see the faint shimmer of their magic vibrating in the air, like heat from sun-baked tarmac. He pauses, squinting. “Sweetheart?”

Every instinct in him is screaming at him to do something, to fix this. But he’s not even sure what this is. He’s got an idea - his pop used to get like this after a bad night, frantic and non-verbal, disappearing into his office for hours until his ma could finally coax him out.

She was good at stuff like that. He - he wasn’t. He didn’t have her soft touch, her endless patience. Shit, he’d probably make things worse if he tried.

Panic squeezes at his throat like a vice, even as he tries to swallow it down. “Sweetheart, can ya - can ya talk to me?”

A flash, and their hand appears, reaching out to grasp his wrist, gripping tight. A rush of heat floods his hand, followed by a sharp pinch that makes him curse, before the ache in his palm recedes, the wound closing.

He flexes his fingers as they flicker back into view, their mouth pinched into a tight line, eyes still too big but focused as they stare down at his hand.

It’s still bloody, the skin of his palm freshly pink, but he can feel the way their fingers tremble around his wrist, and fuck, it must be the blood. Christ, Milo. You’re a fucking idiot.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he focuses on his core, weaving the pattern of a simple cleaning spell, his breath leaving him as the magic runs through his system. He flexes his fingers once it’s done, checking over the clean skin. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

They still won’t speak, won’t look at him. Their hold on him is tight enough that he can feel their pulse through their fingertips, still too fast, and carefully, telegraphing his movements, he reaches out, guiding their face up to meet his. “Hey. You still with me?”

They take a breath, deep and gasping. “I-I’m sorry.”

“None of that. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

They finally look at him, their bright eyes wide, slightly dazed but calmer now, a little more like themself. It settles something in him, although it's not enough - he needs more, needs to know that they’re okay, feel them against him.

“Can I hold you?”

They melt into his arms, soft and warm and perfect, like they were made to fit against him like this, and fuck. He runs his fingers through their hair, pressing his face against their throat until he can breathe them in, deep.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay. Just- breathe.”

–

“So, it’s the blood?”

They release a low hum, sinking further into him where they’ve settled on the couch, his arms around them, their legs across his lap and their body tucked against his chest.

“Yeah. I saw you standing there, and I couldn’t-” Their voice cuts out as they swallow, taking a moment to catch their breath. He holds them through it. “It just hit me, all at once.”

This was new, then. They hadn’t reacted like this to the shade - or at least, he hadn’t seen it at the time. There was that period after the fight, when they’d met with the department, but considering they were at his place immediately after that, he didn’t think it did.

And they’d been working, then. If he can remember well enough the stuff that had happened with his pop, then things like this tended to happen in the aftermath of an event - hours, maybe even days, later.

The fucking department. His grip around them tightens as he grits his teeth, tamping down on the urge to growl. “You’ll tell me, if this happens again? If there’s anything I can do-”

“There isn’t.” They wince, as if their words came out sharper than they intended, and they shift in his arms to look up at him. “But I’ll tell you, if it happens again.”

They lay their head back down against his chest, right over his heart, their fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. He can feel the rhythm of their breath match up to his, easy and quiet, and he loves them. He loves them so fucking much in this moment, it makes his heart ache.

He’ll ask his ma about this, and maybe… maybe get in contact with his pop. They’re long overdue for a conversation, anyway.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

déjà vu

[bpdohwhatajoy]

I hope one day I have people in my life who consider how I feel and actually take preventive steps to not upsetting me. That’s all.