#day 1: abilities

[cutiesigh]

❤️🖤🩷

Wuthering Waves has taken over all of my free time recently, so here's a sketch of Scar!Ren I originally shared in da 14DWY Discord!!

[dangoulains-devotion]

[skitskatdacat63]

If Fernando's gonna insist on having such short hair, could he at least style it like he did in 2012?

[aliveaudiencegang]

I wasn’t sure what I saw in his face. There was no clear sign of love or approval. Nothing to encourage me. It was like looking at the ocean: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable, mysterious. - (The Lightning Thief)

There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. “You did well Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.

[The Lightning Thief]

I wasn’t sure how he would feel about seeing me again, but the corner of his eyes crinkled with smile lines. He nodded as if to say It’s okay.

[The Titan’s Curse]

I turned and found Poseidon smiling at me […] “Hello Percy, you’ve done well.”

[The Titan’s Curse]

“[…] And you Percy, are my favourite son.” He smiled, and at that moment, just being in the kitchen with him was the best birthday present I ever got.

[The Battle of the Labyrinth]

He held out his arms and gave me a hug. I realised, a little embarrassed, that I never actually hugged my dad before. […] When he pulled away, he smiled kindly at me.

[The Last Olympian]

Poseidon ‘showing no clear signs of love or approval’ towards Percy throughout the series

[redladydeath]

I've seen a couple posts now talking about the concept of an AU where Vox somehow gains control over Alastor's soul/contract. While I do agree with the common take that he'd probably try to mind control Alastor or break his spirit at first, I think he'd actually get bored of that pretty quickly. Alastor's appeal is all in his personality; putting him in a situation where he just shuts down and stops giving the reactions that make him who he is would lose its novelty for Vox within a month or two.

Imo, from there I see it turning into a "gilded cage" situation. Vox sets up a nice little club for Alastor to live in; it's classy and Alastor is free to do what he pleases with it, but he cannot leave and whatever Vox says goes. It's a kind of faux freedom that's just tolerable enough for him not to go insane, but just restrictive enough that he still feels like some kind of pet. Vox isn't physically around that often, but he's always watching; Alastor's free to make his own choices, but can only chose from a small, pre-approved set of options. It's actually not too dissimilar to the situation he put his own contractees in, and Alastor loathes that fact.

[dailyperkele]

DAY 20 - Containment

That's a weird looking abnormality right there- let's try some Repression Work!

[stuckinapril]

There will not be a single moment next week in which I’m not running around doing something

[paradimeart]

Also, fun fact: the original pitch document for TFA Season 4 featured an episode titled “Arachnus Prime”, which would've explored an alternate universe where Optimus was turned into a techno-organic and Elita-1 leads Team Prime, so now I’m hella interested in seeing your take on that.

anon we r on the same wavelength i did a lil exploration of that a while ago too but here's a remake. btw 2 me he would also be called blackarachnia in a swap scenario

[mysecretwindowuniverse]

1x7 | Penguin's Umbrella ☂️

*Insert insightful commentary about masculinity, the performance of masculinity and the way it dictates social hierarchy in a heteronormative society, power dynamics, power dynamics in the context of sexual penetration, phallic symbols, queerness, social othering, antagonistic intimacy, desire and repulsion, the scene’s meta commentary on love, etc., etc.*

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

I NEED the Krew to actually TALK about what happened in episode 46. (Spoilers under the cut)

And I don’t mean them mentioning that it happened but “it’s all fine now because they’re alive!” Because I imagine that shit scarred all of them, one way or another. Frost especially.

I don’t care HOW the conversation happens, but it does need to happen. They each need to have that closure, rather than letting those thoughts and feelings swirl in their minds for all eternity. And I don’t just mean in fanfic or whatever. No, it needs to happen sometime in canon, when they have a moment to talk about it in-depth (so probably post-canon, all things considered).

I just…I need Frost to tell them how it felt, watching as all his friends fall around him, and how he couldn’t do anything. I imagine he still gets nightmares about it, especially for the first few nights after the fact, and I imagine he wakes up from those nightmares and probably goes and cuddles up next to Gricko (after making sure he’s breathing. Even if, logically, Frost KNOWS that Gricko is alive and breathing—he’s snoring, shifting around, whatever—he still needs to check. Just in case), as if to confirm to himself that, yes, they’re here. Theyre alive. He’s not alone.

I need Torbek to talk about how he feels like he’s not good enough in battle. How he kicks himself for not being able to control the Witchlight better, for not being able to bring out the Other. Because maybe, just maybe, if he was somehow able to bring out the Other in that fight, maybe they would’ve had a chance (they still wouldn’t, it would still end the same, and Torbek knows it deep down, but he kicks himself all the same)

I need Gricko to lament about how he thinks he’s not a good enough healer. He’s supposed to keep his friends from dying, and he couldn’t even do that right. Maybe if he had gotten to Gideon sooner, maybe if he had realized that Gideon was already long gone before he pumped his last spell slot into him. How he regrets that Hootsie wasn’t spared. Maybe if he had told her to run sooner, faster, maybe, just maybe, she would’ve made it out alive. Maybe. Or, at the very least, he wouldn’t have had to hear her yelps right before he fell unconscious himself. He’s supposed to be her father, he’s supposed to protect her. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Just like he couldn’t protect his friends.

I need Kremy to tell Gideon how it felt to watch his best friend, his husband, get ripped apart before his very eyes, and being unable to stop it. Unable to help in any way. How he couldn’t imagine ever living in a world without Gid. After all, what’s the point of living when your reason for waking up each day is long gone? Someone else could pay his debt, surely.

I want Gideon to lament about just how useless he feels. With the mixture of being unable to help Twig in episode 41, turning into a stupid useless dancing mushroom (where he was the slowest because he traded the rhythm in his step away, and his friends had to help push him along), losing some of his fire (sure, he gained it back, but for several hours he felt colder. Weaker.), and then being the first one down during the Jabberwock fight? He’s supposed to be the strong one, the fighter, yet time and time again his friends are the ones protecting him. Keeping him alive while he keeps throwing himself into danger. He could’ve killed the Jabberwock, surely. With the help of Torbek, sure, but it would’ve died! It just got the jump on him, is all.

I just…I need them to talk, when they get the chance to. They deserve that much. To reassure themselves and their friends that everything is okay. They’re alive, and they’re not going to just abandon each other. Not again. Even if they feel weak, or useless, or like they could be so much more if they were just better. They all know now what it feels like to lose their family, their best friend, the love of their life, their everything. And I don’t think they’ll ever let themselves or each other experience that again. Not for a very long time, at least.

[snezario]

Sub-Optimal; Ala/stor & Vo/x

based from an idea that @sneezingfetishftw posted. I kind of want to expand on that beginning part with a prequel ficlet of Alastor being sick but idk if I'll actually get around to it... I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written... somehow this turned out to be 1.7k words?

Alastor leans against the headboard of his bed and takes a sip from his mug, grimacing as the hot liquid travels down his throat. Coffee was probably not the best choice right now. The warmth of it was nice against his sore throat. Of course that wasn’t the only unfortunate telltale symptom of illness he had awoken with a couple days ago.

He had been pretty good at hiding the whole illness thing under wraps for the first half of the day, that is until he had to sneeze. Usually he was good at stifling them into oblivion, but this particular cold seemed hellbent on disrupting his ability to control his faculties. The first unstifled sneeze caused all the lights in the hotel to flicker, which wouldn’t have caught much of anyone else’s attention. It was the second, third, and fourth ones that well, almost destroyed it.

It was after that whole fiasco that he was banished to quarantine in his room because according to Vaggie Who the fuck knows what other chaos his sickness will wreak havoc on the hotel? Normally he’d be holed up in his radio tower, but his quarters within the hotel are not half bad. Hence, him still being in bed to begin with. A sharp prickle in his nose reminds him how miserable being sick makes one feel.

hih'ZZSSHHhue!

He tries to keep it contained, lest he face Vaggie’s wrath. Not that she’s much of a threat to him really. As Alastor recovers, he’s interrupted by a loud BANG! His bedroom door swings open to reveal Vox standing dead center in the door frame. Alastor rolls his eyes at the other Overlord.

“Do you mind?”

Vox ignores Alastor’s question and breezes past the threshold, plopping himself on a red armchair by the fireplace. 

“I was just passing through the area and a little birdy told me you were feeling a bit… under the weather.” He scrolls on his phone as he speaks, although the wide grin on his screen makes it obvious how much he’s relishing this moment. Alastor narrows his eyes, an unlikely story— Vox would never pass up the chance to taunt him, especially in a case like this.

“Well, I’m not quite on my deathbed as you can see. I didn’t realize that you missed little old me so much that you just had to come by and visit. It is flattering that you stopped by, in any case.”

Despite how awful he’s feeling, Alastor flashes Vox a cheeky grin, knowing full well just how to push the other demon’s buttons. The entertainment value of seeing Vox absolutely lose his cool is almost limitless. Although the pesky tickle is urgently becoming more than a mere annoyance. Alastor would much rather listen to Pentious’s Egg Bois spew nonsense to him for hours on end than be seen like this. Vulnerable and weak, in front of Vox no less. But it’s not something he can avoid at the moment.

Vox wasn’t someone who shied away from physical contact. He never denied himself the opportunity to encroach on someone’s personal space when he saw fit, it was mostly a tactic he employed to assert dominance or to emphasize a point. Or in this case, threaten his rival. Leaping off the chair, he’s in the radio demon’s face in a heartbeat, clenching the collar of Alastor’s pajamas in his hand.

“You arrogant prick, you think that I give a flying FUCK where you’ve been—”

Vox pauses when Alastor inhales sharply, no doubt to make a scathing retort. The radio demon raises a fist to his face and angles himself away from the other Overlord.

hhzh—hhh’ZTCHhiew! hih! ihĨ̴̢̛̘̠̪͍̠̣̪̪͗͒̓̃̎̀̓̕͜Z̵̪̝̱̪̘̺̣̗̘̍Z̷̡̜͔̱͖͉̰̭̽̽̎̆̿̉͝͝T̴̨̧̼̫̜̤͈̖̬͈̈́̄̒̓̾̀̎͠͝S̷̨̱̭͚̬̻̬͐̑̐̏͆͝ͅḨ̵̣͍͈͙͈̝̜͑̓͋̉͊͛̀̑̚H̵̤̯͔̱̓̎̈͘̚̕uu!

The space around them crackles with Eldritch energy, tendrils of which encompass the room. Vox’s screen glitches and completely shuts off.

“What the actual fuck?” The lights flicker back on and Vox’s screen illuminates again. He gives in to a full body shudder (not of his own accord though) as the static shock between them fizzles out. He jumps back from Alastor, his eye spiraling intensely. Alastor sniffles into a plain cloth handkerchief.

“Oh dear, pardon me. I’m not quite in control of my faculties at the moment.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your own mucus,” Vox snarls at him before storming out of Alastor’s room.

It’s humiliating but because the hotel has Alastor as its facilities manager, there is very little modern technology at Vox’s disposal. Meaning, he has to walk… out the front door like a common sinner. The hotel is located quite a bit away from the main hubbub of Pentagram City, which is both a blessing and a curse, depending on who you talk to. Vox makes his way to the edge of the city, a chaotic and desolate area and at the first sight of a screen (an old television set sitting in the window of a dilapidated pawn shop), he transforms into electricity and travels back to the Vees’ penthouse.

What kind of weird voodoo magic did the smiling freak do to me? Vox sits alone in his penthouse suite, glaring at nothing in particular as his eye dilates as he fumes about the outcome of his interaction with Alastor. One day, that pompous bastard would find something more than coffee in that stupid mug of his.

He idly rubs a hand down his screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation runs through the circuitry in his head, almost like an itch he can’t quite reach. He proceeds to take a long sip from his mug, the coffee in it is only lukewarm but it’s the caffeine boost he wants anyways. Vox is feeling more drained from engaging with Alastor than he thought. It’s not entirely out of the question, but it does surprise him a little. Nothing a little caffeine wouldn’t fix. He downs the rest of the drink and settles into the sofa, turning the plasma screen television screen across from him on with a simple thought. The ambient sound immediately soothes him and the incident with Alastor floats into his memory archives to be forgotten.

An hour passes and Vox is sleepily scrolling on his phone. He could nod off right there. That is until a buzzing in his head catches his attention. It almost feels like tiny feathers caressing his internal wiring, not so much caressing as tickling. Similar to before, he can’t seem to reach it and quell the sensation. But unlike before, it’s not just a momentary annoyance. His deliberation is interrupted when his breath hitches once, then twice before he pitches forward.

“ih…ih'DZZSHHH!”

He blinks in confusion. That’s it? He just had to fucking sneeze? Again, he finds his thoughts disrupted by a familiar sensation. Vox tries to rub the tickle away but given his… specifications he realizes he doesn’t even have a nose to—eh'TZZSSHIEW! hih’IZZSHuhh!

What the fuck is happening? He sniffles. Ugh, gross. 

Between the sneezing, the developing tension headache, and the exhaustion it feels like—Vox’s screen lights up as it dawns on him. He fucking has Alastor’s cold. That motherfucker. His blood pressure skyrockets and sparks shoot off his frame, threatening to short out the electronics in the room (of which there are many). Before he knows it, he’s already electro-teleporting across the pentagram to confront the radio demon.

“ALASTOR, you pretentious manipulative fucking son-of-a—”

Although Alastor can’t determine the actual content of Vox’s plethora of insults and cursing, they do steadily increase volume as he approaches Alastor’s room.

“Hmm?” Alastor turns his head as Vox barges into his room for the second time that day. He is sitting in one of the red armchairs by the fireplace, with a book in his grasp. He wears his deceptively inviting smile as always, although it is slightly dulled down by his current illness. Vox breathing is heavy and ragged, his rage undeterred by Alastor’s placid expression actually seems to intensify as he stands face-to-face from his rival.

“YOU… you did this to me!” He jabs a finger in the radio demon’s face, mere centimeters away from stabbing him in the eye. Alastor calmly pushes Vox’s hand down.

“Careful now, unless you want to cause another city-wide blackout.” Alastor teasingly reminds him of their previous on-air encounter.

“Whatever stunt you phhhulled this m-morhhn—” Vox’s voice falters, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He sharply turns away as he succumbs to the persistent itch.

“hh—hHEHh’IZZSH! Fuh—hih…h’KSHHHIiiue! ih’Z̷͖̥̩͕͒́ͅZ̷̩̲̯̠̺̘̟̆̕T̴̛͔͆̒͌̄̚͘Ć̷̘̒̌͐͝͠H̶̥̦͖̰͙͙͙̩̠̋͛ͅH̶͍͕̪̙̦͎́́̋͝uu! ”

The lights pulsate with each sneeze from the television demon. Vox groans, leaning against the wall. That last one hurt like a bitch. 

“Oho! I see the problem. Apologies, old pal. Snf! I thought someone so advanced as yourself would be immune to such trivialities.” Despite his flippant tone, Alastor is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t actually certain the static shock would have affected Vox when he did it. He is, however, quite entertained by the development.

Before Vox can respond, Vaggie throws the bedroom door open.

“Alastor, what the fuck are you even doing? I thought we told you to—” The ex-exorcist jabs her spear in his direction and is about to go off on him when she notices Vox is slumped against the wall. Spinning her spear, she redirects the point towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh him? He’s no threat, at least not in his current condition,” Alastor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a mischievous smile on his lips. Vaggie scowls at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Her gaze flits between Alastor and Vox.

“What did you do—Actually, wait I don’t want to know. Just… stop fucking with the lights.” She swiftly turns around and shuts the door behind her. Still smiling, Alastor turns his attention towards Vox, who’s looking quite pathetic. Well, more so than usual.

“You hear that, my dear Vox? Get a hold of yourself. Now if you’ll exhhcuse me I hh-have— (dang it, now it’s his turn) hh’iZTSHHuu! eh’D̴͚̼̊̂̒Z̵̳̥̈́̀̐͊̃̊̄͘̚Z̵̻͓̖̪̤͊͒̄̓͗́̂͑͜͝͝S̵̼̖͌̔̚HHHiew!” Unfortunate timing, but can’t be helped, Alastor thinks. He scrubs a finger under his nose and proceeds to pore over his book.

Vox narrows his eyes, adjusts his bowtie, and stands up. Vox glares daggers at Alastor, who appears to be ignoring him now. As he heads to the door, he feels an unfortunately familiar prickle at the back of his screen. NO! Not aga— heh’DZZSHHuh! Fuck. He catches Alastor smirking in his periphery.

“Gesundheit!” The radio demon calls out after Vox’s retreating figure.

[gregorycddie]

one of y'all convinced me to listen to sherlock & co even though ive kinda ruined myself for other holmes adaptations. good news is: it's good. bad news: i want to rewatch bbc sherlock (2011) (including s4)

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

So sad you didn't like the dadsy moment. I thought for sure you would go crazy.

As far as I know David Breen wrote this episode and he's not new. Don't quote me, but I think the writing team is the same

Actually went back and edited my post twice earlier cause I had a buddy mention the mixing studios change and then I also was able to process more lol y’all must have the first version my B o7 I can’t believe my hcs have become canon

[chaosinstigator]

“why am i losing followers” *talks about daniel like he’s dead and buried*

[the-headless-horsedude]

i had to make them, i HAD to

[magpie-trove]

I put on the new Lego Star Wars to have a silly fun time and instead I’m feeling so life altering revelations rn