#look mom i can write

[chironshorseass]

Imagine an AU where Percy never remembered Annabeth. It would’ve been heartbreaking

girl hi this is what spiraled me into looking at my docs and finding this wip that I may never finish but it's got that concept only I never finished it but here it is:

It starts with rain. The water pelts down on the ground, droplets piercing his cheeks like pinpricks. 

He remembers nothing as the ground trembles and as the wolves come out of the foliage.

He remembers nothing when that she-wolf, that goddess Lupa, trains him. 

“You will need this,” she says, sword against his throat. “To survive.”

“What,” he asks, “get murdered?” 

He’s perfectly still, knowing full well what would happen if he even moves an inch. His skin is iron, sure, but he still prefers not to get cut; there is something about caution that calls to him, like the snare to a fox. He can pretend, for a second, that he is fully mortal. 

Meanwhile Lupa’s eyes give away nothing. Her grip on her sword doesn’t falter. “The Romans won’t take kindly to a son of Neptune. A son of Neptune with a Greek curse.”

“If it’s a Greek curse, then why am I—“

“You shall be trained like any Roman soldier,” she says evenly. Finally, her arm falls to her side. “You cannot be seen as a weakness. A weakness of a pack can be the key to demise.”

“You must be fun at parties.”

In a flick of the incoming lightning, her form is changed to that of a wolf. She curls her lip, something he knows is the equivalent of a sneer. “Do not play games with me, Perseus. I do not like it either, but you are a soldier of Rome, now. This is what the Goddess wishes of you.”

“You know,” he says, scooping Riptide from the ground. “For all this talk about destiny and about how some goddess ordered you to train me or whatever, you’ve never once mentioned who this ‘Goddess’ is.”

She levels his stare with her ice-cold eyes. Like the brutal wind. Her fangs glint in the dimming sunlight.

“Patience, demigod. All in due time for those who wait. Besides, you must follow your instincts to find those lost memories of yours. That is what you want, is it not?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Lupa regards him, the space between them filled with howling gusts. Then, she looks up at the sky. The clouds are darker than before, heavy with rain and anticipation.

After some time like this, she finally meets his eyes. 

“There is little that I can say.”

She leaves him there, as rain pours down like cries calling for the earth. Perhaps he’s going insane, but he hears a whisper.

“Percy.”

It’s the voice of a girl. Desperate and earnest. But it’s gone as soon as it came; the voice is replaced by the breaths of air that brush past his ears. 

.

A few days pass before Lupa sends him on his way. 

All roads lead to Rome. 

So he follows those instincts she’d mentioned, trekking across California. Really, it’s the call of the sea that keeps him going. 

He remembers nothing as he cleans his shirt in a fountain. And he remembers nothing as he fights countless monsters on his journey, many of which claim that they’d fought him before. It’s no matter. 

The goddess Juno, whom he carried across the Little Tiber, promises him that his memories will return. Someday. Ignoring the gawking campers and the praetor with a face made of stone, he holds onto that hope. An invisible rope is there; he grasps it with all his might, fingers laced together in a death grip while Reyna, the praetor, interrogates him. She tells him of grand adventures and near-death experiences. How, because of him, she was swept away from her sanctuary and into the hands of pirates.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For whatever I did. I’m sorry.”

She raises her eyebrows, eyeing her metal dogs. “You seem to be telling the truth. Strange, though,” she muses. “Clearly, you remember nothing—didn’t know what I was talking about—and still, you apologize. Not very Roman of you.”

He can only shrug. “Just want to make amends.”

Her lips become a thin line, head tilted in a quizzical manner. “I’m curious to see, as a son of Neptune, what will become of you in the legion.”

She didn’t ask, but he’s sure no one knows about the Greek Curse. 

.

He finds friends soon enough. Hazel and Frank. Two kids fighting for their worth just as 

hard as Percy, and yet they do all that is possible to promote him to the Fifth Legion.

He also finds enemies. Octavian. Augur. Every time he addresses Percy, there’s a strange light in his eyes—similar to that of Lupa when she’s about to go for the kill. The hate is mutual, really.

So, his dreams are blank, and the day is bleak. He falls asleep to the sound of Frank’s snores and wakes to the sound of kids preparing for War Games.

.

He remembers nothing, but at least his skin remembers not to bleed when blades crash against him. 

To hell with mortality, he thinks, as he grabs a girl’s knife with his bare hands. 

Her eyes widen. “What the—”

She never finishes that sentence, because he kicks her away and blocks someone else’s blow. Second after second passes, and people hesitate, now. Hazel throws metallic weapons in the air with just her mind, and Frank shoots arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy.

And Percy? Well, the Romans don’t fear Neptune for nothing. 

.

“Some team you made, you and Hazel and Frank.”

He meets Reyna’s eyes, though he’s not sure what he sees there. “We’re a good team, yeah. But the victory was for the Fifth Legion. They deserve it.” 

“No arguing about that,” she says. “But there’s also no arguing that you three were the key players.”

“Why am I here?”

Aurum and Argentum growl in response; Reyna quiets them down with a pat to the head. She glances at Percy. “Right to the point, are we?”

He shrugs, leaning against his leather chair. 

It takes her some time to respond. She swishes the jellybeans at her table. Delicately, she plucks one into her mouth, the chewing slow, with control. Deliberate, he might say.

“It’s not because of the exploded water cannons, is it?” he finds himself asking. “Because that was for war strategy; you of all people should appreciate it.”

Her mouth curls into the hint of a smile. “No, Percy, you’re not here because of that.” Again, she eyes him, up and down, and not even the metal dogs make a sound. “When were you going to tell me,” she begins, “that you carry the Curse of Achilles?”

The dogs stare at him, baring their teeth, surely waiting eagerly for him to lie. Something tells him that one wrong move and he’d end up alone in the streets again, surrounded by monsters that would turn to dust and seconds later reform, over and over. He has to choose his words with precision.

“I didn’t…plan to tell you. Obviously, there’s a reason for that, though. Lupa told me I couldn’t say anything.”

Reyna raises her eyebrows, looks back and forth between her dogs and Percy. “Well. You seem to be telling the truth. Again. Any idea of when this happened? The curse, I mean?”

Pain. He tries to remember, and all he feels is pain pain pain. First, burning his lower back, and then traveling to his throat and to his brain. 

This happens in just a second, because his mind pops like a bubble, and he anchors himself to Reyna’s dark-brown eyes.

“No,” he whispers. “I don’t.”

She hums. “There are many mysteries about you, Percy Jackson.”

“You can say that.”

“I know you don’t remember anything.” Here, her face opens up to reveal a smidge of sympathy. He stupidly wonders how Reyna would be like as just a regular teenage girl instead of a child soldier in charge of an entire child army. “I can tell that you’re hurting. But the other Romans, they don’t care about that. They care that you’re a threat—Octavian, especially. And believe me, people have noticed how you can’t bleed. You fight like no other demigod, Percy.”

“So? What do you want me to do? Fucking take away the curse?”

She crosses her arms. “Playing dumb with me doesn’t work, you know. Mars issued a quest; Frank Zhang, as you well understand, was made a centurion to lead it, to free Thanatos. Rome is in more danger than you think.”

He can see the toll this is taking on her. The toll of leading alone. The hunch in her shoulders and her cracked lips and the bags under her eyes. But he can also see that she won’t take any pity from him. 

Then it dawns on him—the hidden request behind her reminder about all that’s at stake.

“You want me to go.”

“Of course I do. Not to feed on your ego, but you’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. And I’ve watched the Amazons fight. There is also something else: you have to build the Roman’s trust. They already see you as an unreliable weapon—a son of Neptune with a Greek curse is not a good combination. So, you have to earn their trust. If you accomplish this…I have an offer for you.”

Praetor. In all honesty, he might as well go with it.

.

As Reyna promised, all eyes are on him the next day. Ignoring the hushed comments and the stares and the sneers, he goes straight to Frank and Hazel’s table. 

“So it’s true,” Hazel says, studying him. “You carry the Curse of Achilles.”

“How do you know it’s true?” Percy says, sitting next to her. “Those are only rumors.”

She shrugs. “Curses are a bit of my specialty. Also, I watched you fight. I saw how you didn’t bleed.”

“Everyone saw, apparently,” he mutters.

But she doesn’t deserve his jab; Hazel is anything but malicious. Her eyes are big and her face is open—in awe, maybe. To her right Frank fiddles with his medal claiming him as a centurion. Dakota and Gwen—the girl who came back to life just yesterday—merely eye him in wariness. Nico di Angelo, on the other hand, acts as if Percy doesn’t exist, puncturing the act once in a while with stolen glances. The ambassador of Pluto. He’s the strangest of the bunch, and not just because Percy swears that they’ve met before.

Percy decides to only focus on Hazel and Frank, for his sanity. “Yeah,” he tells Hazel. “My skin’s kinda made of metal. Kinda. I don’t know how to explain it, but…”

He takes Riptide, still in pen form. Everyone is watching his every move, he knows. Not just the people on his table. He rolls the ballpoint pen in his hand, feeling the slick coolness of such an innocent object. These Romans, they had never seen a weapon like his before.

Then, he uncaps it; in seconds the innocent pen is transformed into a sword.

Some gasp. The ones sitting with him flinch, except Nico. Percy points his sword down, toward his hand, and his eyes connect with the son of Pluto’s. They are dark as obsidian, glittering, like he knows of an inside joke only he and Percy share. Finally, Percy’s gaze lands on Octavian. Even from this distance he can see that the augur’s jaw is clenched, and so is his fist that grasps onto a teddy bear, knuckles as white as the pillars. He is one of the many standing, ready for whatever trick Percy is about to pull. Even the fauns are gawking.

“Here’s a trick.”

His eyes never leave Octavian, not once. Slowly, the fingers curled around Riptide’s hilt lower down to the sharpness of the glowing bronze. Some cry out; others murmur in wonder once his hand squeezes into the blade and no scarlet comes gushing out of his palm. His other hand is ready, laid out on the table with a serene calmness, even if his palm faces the end of Riptide, point blank. Even if everyone knows he intends to cut himself. 

Frank starts, “Percy, are you sure—”

Hazel shushes him. Percy winks at Octavian before the impact comes, rattling the table. He slams Riptide down, into his waiting hand, again and again and again and again. The pain is dull compared with the satisfaction of seeing everyone’s faces.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sword bounces off his skin—again and again and again.

“See? Nothing can pierce my—”

“Enough!” comes a voice, laced with anger and authority. Reyna. “Enough! That is enough!”

She pushes past the crowd, her eyes wide. Percy stops his little show. She’s right; it is enough, because Octavian’s nose flares and his face reddens like a ripe tomato. Percy bites down his smug smile.

“Everyone,” Octavian calls, but his voice wobbles. He clears his throat. “Back to your tables.”

Reyna doesn’t reproach him for taking over her duty as a leader. She only holds Percy’s stare and disperses into the crowd, purple cape billowing behind her. In his table, Frank begins to clap, slow and appreciative. Percy turns to him and shares his smile. 

“That was,” Frank says, mouth wide open, “I mean—”

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Percy grins.

“Fucking priceless,” Hazel corrects, then pauses, her lips pursed. “Um, sorry.”

Percy nudges her. “Why’re you sorry? It’s true; Octavian’s face was priceless.”

“Oh, um.” She waves her hand around. “It’s nothing—just sometimes forget that I’m—”

“Hazel.” Nico gives her a look, stopping her mid sentence. 

What that is about, Percy has no clue. He has no clue about many things. 

“Catholic school,” Hazel says quickly. “I’m not used to swearing.” 

Her tone is too thick, however. Too nervous. Again, he has no clue about many things. 

“Anyway,” Dakota drawls, pointing a finger toward Percy, “the one that should apologize is Jackson, ‘cause he spilled my koolaid all over the table, see? All because he’s a masochist, or something.”

They all share a laugh, and maybe the Romans aren’t so bad.

[bingsoo-jung]

I said this in the comments of someone else’s post, but I’m going to say this here. Taash identifying as non-binary is good actually, and in fact better than the dev’s making up some new term for them. Let’s get into it.

So for a bit of background, I’m non-binary and Thai. If you don’t know, Thai has specific terms for different gender-sexual identities, they’re quite old, they date back a few hundred years. However, the thing about culturally specific terms is just that, they’re culturally specific. The reason you use them is because you are tied to the culture in such a way that you gender-sexual identity cannot be disassociated from it. Because, to be clear, these terms are never just about your gender or sexual identity. They encompass a role you play within society itself.

For instance, in Thai culture we have tom/tomboys. These are AFAB folks who occupy a masculine societal role and date women. If you’re AMAB you cannot be tom. If you’re transmasc and feminine? You cannot be tom. If you’re transmasc and not attracted to women? You cannot be tom. If you’re transmasc and mostly date men? You cannot be tom. If you’re transmasc but don’t particularly feel like taking care of the girl you date, taking her out, being the ‘man’ in the relationship? You can’t really be tom.

Because the thing about culturally specific genders is that they come with a lot of rules. Being tom isn’t being non-binary. There are cis women who are tom, and there are non-binary people who are toms. You do not get eschew gender roles in these cases. You are quite literally taking one on. You have a role and place in society that has been made for you, and you are expected to carry it out.

Because of this, none of these terms are a one-to-one for other identities, and nor should they be. Being kathoey or hijra is not the same as being a trans woman or non-binary, and visa versa. You can be kathoey and not be trans. You can be trans and not be kathoey. Being aqun-athlok or any other specific term shouldn’t be either. The idea that it is, is more ahistorical and inaccurate than the word non-binary itself. Giving Taash some new, culturally specific term, would inherently tie them to a culture, and one perhaps that they didn’t feel apart of. Especially since Taash’s entire story is about struggling to figure out where they belong. Arguably the biggest issue with their story is that you have to make them decide, and fundamentally tying them to a term would’ve compounded that problem.

The reason I identify as non-binary and not a tom, is because I am not occupying some specific role in Thai culture. Despite living in LA, I rarely interact with other Thai people who aren’t my family. I do not live in a cultural context that would allow me to identify as a tom.

The thing about terms like non-binary, or trans, or agender, is that they’re meant to be acultural terms encapsulating the concept of truth to oneself and ones identity. Whereas culturally specific terms aren’t, they’re about the role you hold in society and where you fit in. It’s about your identity within a status quo. Taash is a character who is eschewing societal roles, and breaking the status quo, giving them those terms just wouldn’t work.

And finally? Using non-binary itself allows the writers to very specifically say where they stand. There is no space given to transphobes. You either accept that DA is queer-friendly or bust. And that’s a very important stance to make in an era where trans and non-binary folks are being actively targeted. There’s no ‘well Taash isn’t actually trans or non-binary they’re [insert term here]!’ Because people would’ve done that, we know they would’ve. This means people can’t do that. They have to just say that they have an issue with the term, and thus we can call them for what they are. Transphobes. Plain and simple.

So yeah, Taash’s identity does have nuance, it has a lot of it. And to be honest with you, I wouldn’t be surprised if Trick Weekes, a non-binary person whose wife is First Nations and thus from a group with culturally specific gender identities, knows about the difference between something like two-spirit and trans. And to be honest with you, using something like non-binary has nuance I doubt was actually afforded to Krem, considering they cast a cis woman to play Krem.

So yeah.

[ex0toxin]

awughhh silly shipchart.. my canonverse hcs 🧠

og post

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[crabsnpersimmons]

did i make the hands too big?

also another question: would being spooned in bed by a large-handed robot husband require a #suggestive tag? my gut feeling says yes, but i recognize i'm generally over-cautious and i may be over thinking it

(my gut feeling can be summed up with the question: "would i be embarrassed if my mom saw this?" and if it's a "yes" then it gets the suggestive tag)

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[calamitoustide]

okay so Harry is Lily’s kid and James is his uncle and one day Lily’s in a bind and needs him to pick Harry up from daycare so of course he does it and he goes in and finds this… really hot dad. And his daughter is talking to Harry so James takes the chance to go talk to him. He learns his name is Regulus and is so obsessed with it as James always is and Reg points at Harry and asks if he’s his son. James being the idiot that he is says yes (he’s struggling). Also they look pretty much identical cause he was the sperm donor so it makes sense that Reg asks. James has been asked it before... but Reg is hot and he short circuited. They leave and agree that they should rearrange a play date… you know for the kids.

James has to keep asking Lily to borrow Harry to take him to these places and it’s this huge mess.

And Reg has to keep coming up with reasons to Pandora and Xeno why he always wants to take their daughter out places.

chaos ensues.

[skyward-floored]

IAU Sky and and Sun spending time with any of their kids?

Here’s them spending time with all their kids! Featuring an activity I thought Aryll especially would enjoy. Took me a while to come up with something haha, I’m out of practice writing fluff 😅

Aryll is about 5-6 here, the triplets are somewhere in the 1-2 range :)

————————————————————

Sky rifled around in the pantry, looking for the jar of peanut butter that he’d thought was in here. No matter how many cans and jars he moved around though, he saw no sign of it. Maybe Sun had put it somewhere else? He thought for sure she’d said it was here, though.

Sky huffed and pushed over a can of dried hylian tomatoes, then exclaimed in triumph. The peanut butter had been wedged behind it at the perfect angle where he couldn’t see.

He pulled it out and stood, striding back to the table where he’d been before, and Aryll watched him in interest, sneezing suddenly into her lap.

“Bless you,” Sky said sympathetically, and his daughter sniffled.

“Why did you get the peanut butter out?” she asked, and Sky smiled.

“Don’t you remember, pumpkin? We’re going to make bird feeders. This goes on the pinecones.”

“Peanut butter on pinecones? For real?” Aryll exclaimed, and Sky chuckled, putting the jar in front of her.

“For real. That’s to help the seeds stick,” he explained as he grabbed several butter knives to eventually spread it.

“And the birds will love it!” Aryll said excitedly, and Sky smiled.

“Uh-huh. But we have to wait until Mommy and the boys come back with the pinecones.”

“I could’ve gotten pinecones,” Aryll pouted, and Sky patted her on the head when she set her elbows on the table.

“I know, but until those sniffles go away we don’t want you spending time out in the cold unless you have to,” Sky said, then turned as he heard the door click. “And it sounds like they’re back now anyway.”

“Daddy!!” a voice yelled. Footsteps pounded across the floor, and Crimson scrambled into the kitchen with his cheeks pink with cold and melting snow coating his boots. “Pinecone!”

“Well look at that, very nice!” Sky said with a smile, taking the two pinecones that Crimson waved at him and setting them on the table. “These look like great ones. Now let’s get your stuff off before you get snow everywhere, kiddo. What did you do with your mom and brothers?”

Crimson rapidly babbled something in toddler language that Sky only half-understood, but he nodded along anyway, picking out something about coats and snow and pinecones. He could hear other voices by the door, and hoped it was Sun taking off boots so there wouldn’t be more melting snow on the floor. They would already need a towel so nobody would slip.

By the time he finished peeling off all of Crimson’s layers, Sun had walked in, bootless, with their other two sons following behind her in their socks as well. All of their faces were flushed from the cold, and Sky saw Sun shiver as she pulled her scarf off.

“We got a pinecones!” Azure said triumphantly, his arms full of the prickly seed carriers. He ran forward and tossed his whole load on the table, making Aryll yelp, and Sun give him a look.

“Hey, no throwing in the kitchen, Azy,” she reminded, and he climbed up on a chair, legs wiggling as he proudly looked over his pinecones.

“I see you all were successful,” Sky directed towards his wife, and Sun grinned, eyes bright. Her hair poked out from her hat, a few snowflakes melting on her lashes, and Sky couldn’t help joining her side and pressing a kiss to cold lips.

“We sure were. Found plenty of pinecones,” Sun said after she returned the gesture, nestling up to his warmth with a shiver. “And we only had one emergency involving mittens.”

“Very nice,” Sky congratulated, giving her a quick embrace before pulling back, though he kept a wing around her. “Are we ready to have four kids all covered in peanut butter?”

“Butter!” Sage said excitedly, holding a pinecone tight to his chest.

“Not just butter! Peanut butter!” Aryll said indignantly, sniffling when her nose tried to drip. “And seeds so the birds have food for the winter.”

“Exactly,” Sun nodded, and scooped up Sage as she sat down, their smallest son nestling into her lap. “Now who’s got the peanut butter?”

“Here!” Aryll chirped, holding up the jar above her head in a triumphant pose.

“Great, let’s get to work then,” Sky said as he took a knife, but Aryll suddenly gasped, setting down the jar and waving her hands.

“Wait wait! I forgot!” she yelped, and scrambled out of her seat and out of the room. Sky raised an eyebrow, but he shrugged and began spreading peanut butter, knowing he had quite a few pinecones to get through.

Aryll came rushing back in in a few minutes, and Sky sighed at the tiny bird sitting primly on her shoulder.

“Honey, we’ve talked about bringing birds inside,” Sun reminded, and Aryll drooped, giving her parents sad eyes.

“But Dee is good! He never makes a mess or is too noisy or scares anyone!” she begged, the chickadee letting out an innocent chirp. “And I want him to help!”

“Well... he will be eating these when we’re done,” Sky said consideringly, and Sun raised an eyebrow. “Maybe just this once?”

“I suppose so,” Sun gave in with a sigh, and Aryll cheered, Dee trilling with her.

Aryll sat back down, her bird friend watching the proceedings in interest. Sky popped a mouthful of birdseed, crunching on it as he handed Azure a pinecone he’d finished peanut buttering, and Aryll grabbed her own knife and got to work along with Sun. The triplets were all too small to really spread peanut butter. Sage was trying anyway though, and Sun did her best to steer him.

True to Sky’s earlier comment, all four kids were at least partially covered in peanut butter by the time they were finished spreading it over the pinecones. The table was also coated in birdseed, and Crimson had accidentally destroyed a pinecone at one point, sending little woody bits all over the room. Aryll’s chickadee was eating some of the seeds on the floor, Sky had peanut butter in his wings, and despite the fact that he knew the mess was going to take ages to clean, he barely cared.

It was moments like these he treasured the most.

All of his kids finally finished their pinecones, Aryll using every single one she could get her hands on. She was determined to make sure the birds had food while it was snowy outside. Sun grabbed some colored string that they tied around the cones to use as hangers, and then it was time to hang them.

They placed most of them where you could see them from the living room, a short tree with lower branches the perfect height for the feeders. Then Sky placed a few in random spots in their backyard, and a couple outside Aryll’s room, ones she could see from her window. Aryll then insisted on the biggest one she made being hung in the tree outside Sun and Sky’s window, and she squealed happily as a tiny nuthatch flew up only moments after he finished hanging them all.

“Looks like they work,” Sky said as they all watched birds slowly gather, happily pecking seeds off the pinecones.

“Birs,” Azure said thoughtfully, then squealed as two cardinals zipped by, red standing out sharply against the snow.

“Look, there’s Beep! Say hi to Beep!” Aryll yelled in excitement as a little sparrow began pecking at the seeds, and her brothers began wildly waving their arms, which made the bird fly off. “Oh, guess he wasn’t hungry after all.”

Sky chuckled from his place on the bed, Sun flopped next to him as they watched their kids all gathered at the window. He couldn’t help the yawn he let out, and Sun nestled up beside him, head resting on his chest.

“They’re certainly a handful,” she commented with a smile, Crimson yelping as Sage tried to climb on him in order to see better.

“Yeah. But they’re our handfuls,” Sky replied, and Sun chuckled, closing her eyes.

Sky did the same with a soft sigh, and they both listened to their kids excitedly watch the birds, the smell of peanut butter in the air as a deep sense of peacefulness settled over Sky.

...At least until all four of his children decided to jump on him.

[chironshorseass]

The storm intensifies. He loves the feeling, really. It’s power in its highest of expressions; primordial nature doing his bidding. It’s addicting, freeing—I want more.

His name comes like a hissing wind, “PERSEUS.”

(But the sound also comes with a voice; he knows it too well.)

The sea parts for another person, or rather, a deity. Poseidon walks toward him, his calm demeanor a contrast to the storm.

“Stop this at once,” he says, and his voice echoes, on and on and on.

“Make me,” Percy spits out.

“I don’t want to make you do it. In the end it is your choice.”

“THEN GO AWAY!”

“That, I can’t do, my son. This is my domain; I am everywhere.”

Percy screams. The sea had parted for Poseidon, but not for long. Two waves on opposite sides clash together, and his father disappears in its turmoil. The logical, still sane part of Percy, knows that this is like signing a death wish. But most of him just wants Poseidon gone. He couldn’t— wouldn’t— even stand to look at him.

[valzhangism]

i know i said i was happy about how mel's story went, but the more i think about it the less i'm sure about that. this is very much connected to how the themes of classism and wealth disappeared in s2, but mel in the beginning was the epitome of piltover. she wanted to advance piltover to prove herself to her mother. to "put piltover—" and by extension herself, "—on the map."

she wanted wealth just to have it. and i'm not blaming her for anything that happened, especially with hextech! she, just like jayce and viktor, could not have known what it would lead to. i mean yeah heimerdinger said so but who the hell listens to heimerdinger? but anyway i think mel changed throughout s1, much in thanks to jayce. by the end she's become more cognisant of the mistreatment of zaunites. she's the first to vote for their peace. she was a good person all along but now she knows how to act on it. it's also seen more in s2 act 1. when she covers her painting with gold, it's symbolic—she won't act according to what her mother might think. she won't let her desire for approval dictate her anymore.

so somehow i wish those themes were. continued, somehow? like again they were dropped not just with mel but the whole show and it makes her story a off to me. there's no meaningful commentary on war or classism or how her ideology stands opposite to her mother's. like some people have said, it feels like she doesn't have much agency, even if she is really cool. and that to me is a shame because agency felt like her thing. "to shape your own destiny" as she says to jayce in s1. i know her collaborating with the black rose (but not fully joining them) and learning magic is supposed to represent becoming independent from her mother, taking her own path, but some other aspects of her character were thrown away... the more i think about it the more i'm thinking they kind of #girlboss-ed her a little bit. maybe to sell another champion. i can't help but feel like even though i enjoyed seeing her on screen, the payoff didn't feel proportionally satisfying compared to her setup in s1.

[what-even-is-sleep]

thinking about Bodkin again bc I mean,,, ALL THE SYMBOLISM OHHHHHGH. i NEED some tumblr film analysis hobbyists to watch this show and tell me all the themes n such

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[martyrbat]

a female character isn't allowed to be a character that is also female. she isn't allowed her own agency and complex motives nor any deeper emotions without it being centered around the male cast around her or a child. even if she's not a mother, she remains one because she could always potentially become a mother or she is the ‘mom character’ to the men/children around her and her actions MUST reflect that. if they don't, she's labeled a selfish bitch. if she is an (actual) mother than that's all she is—she isnt allowed deeper characterization or discussion because thats all she'll ever be, that's all she was made to be. male characters are allowed to be fathers (lireral or in the sense of providing for the people around them) with deeper feelings but a mother? never a mother.

[szaryherbatnik]

Incoherent mumbling about virgil liking music and jericho being a bard smth about how he closed his eyes and enjoyed the music smth abt his dark eyes abt him petting his raven with his good hand oh gods !!!

[chironshorseass]

His voice levels over hers, “Mom, Mom, I swear, you’re kind of freaking me out. Do you have a boyfriend? Is it Paul? Look, you know I support your choices and you don’t have to worry—”

“No, sweetie.” She grabs his hands, cupping them in hers; finally, he can pinpoint exactly what that something, in her eyes, is. Hope. But also fear. “I haven’t seen Paul since a year ago. I’m talking about—”

And suddenly there’s a knock. Two knocks. Sally jumps.

“I’ll get it!” Annabeth says.

Cursing under her breath, she squeezes Percy’s hands. “All I want you to know it that you need to let me explain before you see—”

“Perseus.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Slowly, very slowly, his heart in his throat, he turns. Annabeth hovers near the kitchen, fixing her wide eyes on Percy, silently shaking her head. And there, in front of the doorway, stands his father. He’s just as he remembered; untucked Hawaiian shirt, worn down bermuda shorts, brown sandals, the same face, the same shifting, hypnotic eyes. He smiles, and Percy just about loses it.

“Welcome home, son.”

[fairys-dream]

logans journal: “We had one of our worst fights to date. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to contain that side of me if this continues on. He always manages to awaken something deep inside. Getting harder to fight it. Have to keep drinking it back down.”

vics journal: “TODAY I FOUGHT LOGAN. WE HAD FUN. I HIT HIM WITH A STEEL PIPE AND HE FLEW REALLY FAR. HE SMILED AT ONE OF MY JOKES. =) I CANT WAIT TO SEE HIM AGAIN!”

i feel like vic would see logan journalling and want in on it too lol. also i think he’d only learn capital letters cuz like…why learn both. still readable.