#lots and lots of running

[staysaneathome]

The Self-Preservation Society (2)

Des is tired.

The Thing’s been carrying him on its back for ages since they got out of the Underground station.

Des would fall asleep against it, but all the flashing lights and loud people and the backpack jostling against him keep stopping him and the Not!Daddy and poofy teenager are still out there chasing them, and Des is so tired and he wants to go to bed.

The Thing shifts him slightly higher on its back as it hoists itself over a wall.

It puts a finger to its lips to hush him as it gently brings him around, running bent double with him clutched against its chest until it enters a large building with lots and lots of books, ducking in and out of rooms until it reaches one with a computer. Then it stops and lets him down, at long last.

Des yawns widely, plopping down onto the floor almost as an afterthought, his family crawling out of him with tired, slow-moving wings. “M tired. ‘N thirsty. Can I have a Fruit Shoot? Or a Freddo?”

The Thing pauses, then holds up both it’s hands in a “wait” gesture that Des recognizes from Mama whenever he’s trying to ask her something while she’s on the phone or cooking. It leaves the room.

He droops, head tilting forward ‘til it’s almost hit his chest and he jerks more upright again, eyes so heavy it’s hard to keep them open for more than a few seconds—

Then a thumping of disjointed footsteps startles him up, the fear helping to keep him awake as the Thing enters the room again, brandishing a purple Fruit Shoot and Cadbury’s chocolate bar victoriously in its hands with a wide smile.

Des prefers Freddo Frogs, or Fruit and Nut bars, but he remembers to not say so as he wolfs the chocolate bar down and pulls the nozzle of the Fruit Shoot out with his teeth so he can eagerly suck down the juice inside.

“Aa-a-ah.” He feels a lot better, afterwards.

His family look better too, crawling back in and out of him with growing energy, flapping prettily like they’re meant to. “That was suuuper tasty. Thank you…? I don’t know your name.”

The Thing, which has been sitting at the computer and clicking at things on it, jerks again. It glances at him, still smiling, then away.

It reaches for the backpack on the floor, unzipping it and pulling out a notepad like the ones Mama keeps around the house for shopping lists.

It’s now got a pencil and is writing something down.

Des hopes it’s not anything too difficult. He’s one of the level B readers in his class at school, but he still needs Mama’s help with the harder words in English books.

The Thing eventually holds the pad out for Des to read.

“I-don’t-ha-ve-a-name.” He sounds out carefully. “It-was-tay-ken-from-me-by-the-Cir-cus. The Circus? But the circus is fun, it, it has clowns and elephants and lions and things! How can a circus take your name?”

At Des’ confused stare, the Thing grabs the pad back and begins writing. Once it’s done, it presents the paper again.

“Not-a-hu-man-Cir-cus.” He reads. “A-Cir-cus-for-things-that-pre-tend-to-be. So-they-can-catch-and-eat-them.”

“Things that pretend?” Des asks. “Like, like the man who’s not my Daddy?”

The Thing nods, eyebrows furrowed, its smile still there, but…unhappy, somehow. It reaches out slowly and puts a hand on Des’ head again.

He lets it, something inside his throat feeling cold and hard.

His Daddy got eaten by the Circus that pretends to be human but isn’t. He’s not here anymore, and Des isn’t sure he will be ever again. He sort of wants to cry, but for some reason his eyes aren’t getting wet.

Mama is going to be so sad.

His family flutter around him, whispering it’s okay, we’re here, we love you, even as the Thing keeps patting his head. It feels weird, but it’s…it’s kinda nice? Like the Thing’s trying to say that it’s sorry, even if it doesn’t have any voice.

“Is that what he was going to do to me?” He has to sniff a bit so his question isn’t all croaky. “Steal my name and voice too?”

The Thing bobs its head from side to side a bit before shaking it, leaning over to write something new for Des to read.

“No. The-Yuh-ee-er-k?-wa-n-ts-to-eat-up-your-li-ife-may-ke-you-not-you.” Des squirms unhappily, feeling his family flutter around him with whispers of beloved, ours, won’t let it, protect, care, love. “That’s scary. Did he take away your mouth too? Is that why you’re all bendy?”

The Thing shakes its head again, propping the pad on its knees so it can write and Des can see.

“Some-bo-dy-else-did-that-to-me.” He reads as it writes. “Took-my-name-and-my-voice-and-my-mem-or-ees-and-ev-ry-thing. But-I-ran-a-way-from-the-Cir-cus-be-for-they-took-what-s-left-of-me. I-wan-ted-to-help-you-so-they-do-n-t-hurt-you-like-they-hurt-me.”

“Thank you.” Des says slowly, because Mama’s taught him it’s important to thank people when they help him. “But I still need something to call you. I don’t like calling you ‘The Thing’ in my head all the time. ‘S mean.”

The Thing fidgets, drumming its fingers against its neck, before scribbling something else in smaller writing that’s hard to read.

“I-m-so-ree-but-I-do-n-t-have-one. I-am-12-years-old-if-that-helps.” Des gasps. “You’re twelve?!”

Twelve is—that’s five years older than him, at least. You can do so many things when you’re twelve that you can’t when you’re eight. You can stay up late and go to the shops on your own and drive a car and do taxes, and, and—!

“You’re so old.” Des tells the Thing. “Like, super suuuper old.”

The Thing jerks upright, a funny look on its face as it points at itself.

Since it’s so old, Des reasons, it needs to have a proper name. A respectable one, like Abuelita always says.

“I’m gonna call you Benjamin.” He decides with a nod. “That can be your name now.”

The newly dubbed Benjamin looks around, as if searching for something. Des doesn’t think they find it, because they slump over a bit and give a shrug.

It begins writing out another message along the very top edge of the paper, where there’s still a bit of space.

“Do-you-k-now-your-home-add-dress?” Des reads. “Yeah! My house is 4 Little Newts, Bishop’s Stortford.”

Benjamin gives a little nod, turning to the computer, tapping on the keys with one finger on each hand.

Des cranes his head to watch the screen with interest. Two of his sisters and one of his brothers land on it and begin to wander around, dazzled by the bright light.

The computer ends up on a bright blue screen, and Benjamin flips to a fresh page in the notepad, copying down things on the screen, words and numbers and weird, sketchy lines, faster than Des can read them.

“I-am-go-ing-to-get-you-ho-me. The-se-are-di-rect-tions” Des reads. “Really? You will?”

Benjamin nods, drawing a small cross over its chest with a finger.

Des throws himself at it in a hug, his family filling the air with their pretty colors as they dance with the joy that’s filling Des up to bursting.

Home! Home with Mama, and his family, and Abuelita, and his bed and his toys and Mr. Easto and Diya and Kayleigh and Milo at school and Maisy and Hugo at the playground! “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

Benjamin doesn’t seem to know what to do with a hug, because it’s arms are raised in the air.

Slowly, hesitantly it comes down to give Des another rub over the head. It’s smile seems a little smaller than before, but more…real? If that makes any sense?

There’s a crash that sounds like the time Des accidentally knocked Daddy’s favorite glass out of the dishwasher.

The Thi—Benjamin goes rigid, one arm locking around Des’ back and hoisting him up against its chest. The other arm slides the notepad back into the backpack and zips it up, slinging it over its back.

It’s smile has gotten big and scary again.

“Des~” Comes the voice of the thing that isn’t his Daddy. “I know you’re here, Des. Come out, come out, wherever you are~”

It feels like he can’t breathe.

His family cluster close, whispering intruder, predator, danger, watch out, be careful, protect beloved, protect, defend, protect.

“I know you’re here.” The Y-ee-rk that’s pretending to be his Daddy calls, it’s voice sounding echoey and wrong. “ I can feel how scared you are, Des. You are scared, aren’t you? So scared, to be stolen away by a Stranger. Taken faaar away from your Mama and Daddy. It is very scary, isn’t it?”

Benjamin is standing, clutching Des close as it edges out of the room and into the dark corridor on silent feet, despite how much Des very much doesn’t want them to, doesn’t want to leave the safety of the computer room even to get away from where the Not-Daddy-Yeerk is crooning, “But it’s alright, Des. I can feel your fear. I can taste it, on the back of my teeth. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. And then we’ll fix you up, get all those nasty pests out of you. And you’ll be able to love your Mama, okay?”

Des can’t help it.

A small whimper escapes from him.

Benjamin stares down at him with wide eyes, even as he claps his hands over his mouth.

“There you are.” The Yeerk that ate his Daddy coos over Benjamin’s shoulder.

Des isn’t quite sure how Benjamin does it, but one moment they’re standing upright and the next one of their feet is slamming into the monster’s face, hard enough to send it spinning into the wall.

Then they’re running, going almost faster than a car as they tear down the corridor away from what isn’t Des’ Daddy.

The monster that, from his position looking over Benjamin’s shoulder, Des can see getting up, his body shifting and bubbling, face melting and limbs splitting and growing, chasing after them with too many faces, too many arms and legs and bodies, human and animal and toy and, and, and—!

One of Benjamin’s hands comes up to the back of Des’ head and pushes it down gently until all he can see is it’s shoulder.

Des doesn’t try to lift his head, burrowing closer to the nasty-smelling, scratchy fabric trying hard to forget what he saw, to not cry as the Yeerk-thing’s voice echoes around them as it howls, “GET BACK HERE, YOU TREACHEROUS LITTLE THIEF!!”

Des is beginning to feel sick with how scared he is when Benjamin shifts him around its body. He’s terrified for a moment that it’s decided to drop him to save itself.

Instead, Benjamin charges through the glass doors at the front of the building, head down and the backpack held up to act as an extra shield.

From his position practically on its back again, Des only feels small stings on his feet and hands. Benjamin shakes itself and the backpack, blood dripping down its head even as it shifts him back to the front, and keeps running.

The concrete garden area outside the front is pale in the moonlight. There are two big metal doors blocking them off from where Des can hear streets and cars and people.

Benjamin doesn’t even stop. Like a magic trick, it springs forward so Des thinks for a moment that they’re falling before it catches itself on one hand, flipping over and over and over, higher and higher until with a last push they’re flying, properly actually flying through the air, high above the gates and the cars and the people, and, and everything.

They land hard on the pavement, Benjamin rolling around Des like how he thinks Milo’s hamster must feel in its ball, rolling, rolling until it suddenly stops and Des is dizzy and terrified and tired with it all.

“H-hah!” Comes the voice of the poofy teenager in front of them. “I’ve, I’ve caught up with with you! Now, now let that little boy g—!”

Des promptly throws up.

His family pour out of his mouth onto the teenager’s shoes, almost all of them at once, so many that the floaty stuff goes away and he can feel his older brother again.

The one he’d thought was gone forever, crawling up his arm and inside his shirt to join all the others, leaving Des struggling not to cry with feelings of welcome back, you’re home, we’re home, together, all together, beloved—

The poofy teenager hops backwards as Benjamin scoops Des up again. “Urgh! Wait, what? But, I thought, you’re also—?”

The gates across the road SLAM open as the Yeer-not-his-Daddy-thing bursts through them with a roar that no one seems to notice.

“SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST!!” The poofy teenager screams.

Des gasps even as Benjamin begins running again, his family following along with them. “NO! You can’t say La Virgen’s name like that! It’s rude!!”

The poofy teenager, running next to them, shoots Des a wide-eyed look. “IS THAT WHAT WE SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUR RI-hff, riGHT NOW?!”

The poofy teenager doesn’t seem to be as fast as Benjamin, panting and sweating and slowing as the Yee-monster chases them all down the street and through several alleys.

Des thinks they should leave the poofy teenager behind, if they’re going to be so rude.

But Benjamin reaches out when the poofy teenager trips one more time, does a complicated catch-their-hand-spin-and-lift that ends up with the teenager sitting on Benjamin’s shoulder and clutching at their head.

It’s weird when they come to a stop outside of a big building with tall, big doors.

It’s not another train station which they can use to escape like last time, and the not Daddy is still chasing after them through all the winding streets and alleys, even if it is a bit farther away than before.

“A warehouse?” The poofy teenager asks, staring down. “Wh-why are we stopping outside a warehouse?! That thing’s still coming, we need to go.”

Benjamin raps four times on the door, then two times in rapid succession.

Des hears something shifting and moving behind the door, the rasp of brick on brick like when he, Hugo, Diya, and Maisy played at the abandoned building place behind the playground before Maisy’s mummy found out and yelled at them all to never do it again.

“Ready or not, Des~” The thing that isn’t his Daddy sing-songs, closer than Des wants him to be. “Ready or not,”

Benjamin knocks in the same way again, eyes wide and slightly wild.

“Ready or not,” And Des isn’t looking, hasn’t looked, has tried his best not to look since Benjamin pushed his head down, but the way the poofy teenager twists and gasps with big, frightened eyes tells Des he’s here, he’s here, he’s going to get him. “Here I COME!”

The doors in front of them BANG open.

Des jerks as Benjamin bursts into movement, racing inside.

His family cling to his nose and ears, whispering danger, danger, predator, enemy hive, blood, death, violence, predator, danger.

He doesn’t understand why they’re saying that, there’s nothing in here, just a big rubbishy room—

Something flies over Des’ head, past Benjamin’s ear.

There’s a yell of pain from the thing that isn’t his Daddy.

Des twists, trying to see what it was, where it came from, who threw it, when another flashes past the poofy teenager, making them yelp and lean away and almost fall off of Benjamin’s shoulder.

Des thinks that was, was a bit of metal?? A pipe or something, like when the radiator broke and the strange men had to come to the house and pull long metal things out of the walls.

Something else whistles on the other side of him and he twists in time to see his reflection in a bit of broken glass.

It’s shooting past him exactly straight, like an arrow in cartoons, not in the curvy way that the balls and frisbees thrown at the park do.

“Benjamin, what’s happening??” He yells. When Benjamin doesn’t answer, he frowns and slaps its chin. “Benji!!”

Benjamin still doesn’t answer.

But its eyes dart up to look at something behind Des, and leans forward, tucking Des and the poofy teenager as close as it can and going faster.

Des turns back around—

Glass and brick and pipes and metal and all the other rubbish on the floor of the large room are floating, lifting up and then flying through the air past them, at what’s not his Daddy.

In the air, there’s a boy hovering in place, sort of faded and see through.

His face looks so, so angry.

Worse even than Des’ Daddy when he was mad at him. The sort of angry that means someone’s definitely getting hit, instead of just yelled at.

The boy swells, sharp and hard things flying around him like the halo around La Virgen.

“GET the HELL OUT of MY GRAVE!!” He screams.

The lights explode, all the flying things shooting like arrows, all so, so, sharp and deadly and angry.

Des can’t help yelping, turning his face to hide in Benjamin as they run and run.

The poofy teenager’s screaming sounds silly.

The monster that ate his Daddy just sounds furious.

There’s the sound of doors slamming shut behind them, all the anger and hate muffled behind them as Benjamin keeps going, the sounds of the streets and the people almost quiet after everything in there.

[dozydawn]

nimble, a border collie-papillon mix, wins the 12” class in the 2024 masters agility championship. the first time a mixed breed has won at westminster ever.

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[vorbisx]

Replacing physical buttons and controls with touchscreens also means removing accessibility features. Physical buttons can be textured or have Braille and can be located by touch and don't need to be pressed with a bare finger. Touchscreens usually require precise taps and hand-eye coordination for the same task.

Many point-of-sale machines now are essentially just a smartphone with a card reader attached and the interface. The control layout can change at a moment's notice and there are no physical boundaries between buttons. With a keypad-style machine, the buttons are always in the same place and can be located by touch, especially since the middle button has a raised ridge on it.

Buttons can also be located by touch without activating them, which enables a "locate then press" style of interaction which is not possible on touchscreens, where even light touches will register as presses and the buttons must be located visually rather than by touch.

When elevator or door controls are replaced by touch screens, will existing accessibility features be preserved, or will some people no longer be able to use those controls?

Who is allowed to control the physical world, and who is making that decision?

[chloesimaginationthings]

What if Henry found Springtrap first in FNAF..

[gothoffspring]

hi simblr, it's my birthday today! virgo supremacy! I decided to share one of my favorite recolors i've ever made (finally!!!). I sticker-ed up the City Living keyboard and added some other fun swatches. There is a functional version for use with the City Living EP, and a non functional deco version for both the floor and the wall! More info + download below the cut!

DETAILS:

This is a recolor of the keyboard that came with City Living, and the deco mesh separated by @pixlmonster. Unfortunately this means CL is required, I'm sorry! I was hoping the deco versions would work without CL but they do not. Mesh by pixlmonster is included.

There are 19 swatches. The first 6 are the more unique sticker-ed swatches, and some of my personal favorites. Swatches 7-11 are more patterned recolors, and the last 8 swatches are from @pictureamoebae's fluoro-pop collection. Sometimes you just need a neon pink keyboard, y'know?

You can see an unedited in game photo of all swatches right here (part one, part two, part three)

Custom thumbnails for the first swatch.

You can download a merged .package with the functional + deco versions, and they also come separated if you'd prefer to pick and choose.

CREDIT:

Thank you to pixlmonster for the liberated keyboard mesh and pictureamoebae for the fluoro-pop collection palette!

I'll be super honest: It's been a year since I first initially started this project and I didn't do a great job recording where I got all of the stickers used. I apologize. Some of them were in game assets already, found via petaluhsims' sticker sheets. Some were found via google/freepik and some came from other places that I'm sure I'm forgetting. I made the parental advisory + seattle grunge stickers on the first swatch myself. Simlish fonts were found via franzillasims' font masterpost. Thanks so much to all of the original sticker/pattern creators, all credit goes to them. I just compiled a bunch of stuff together.

thanks to sam @m0ckest for testing <3

here's an ugly GIF of all the swatches! I tried so hard to make it look better but alas. I have completely forgotten the art of GIF making. I still wanted to include it so y'all could see all of the swatches somewhat easily!

DL:

MERGED: SFS / MF

INDIVIDUAL: SFS / MF

[allovesthings]

I love that Dick is pocket sized for both powered superheroes and as Robin, when he is a teeny little guy for the non-powered. It's very fun.

So here is three of my favorite way someone carried Dick:

Kitten! Dick taken by the scruff in Batman/Scarecrow Year one:

2. On the shoulder of Superman, looking like he is having the time of his life:

3. look at his shit-eating smile, i love him

[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

PD-MDZS: The Hallmark Episode.

[xitsensunmoon]

He's a bit too excited to see you clock in

[unforth]

Gentle reminder that very little fandom labor is automated, because I think people forget that a lot.

That blog with a tagging system you love? A person curates those tags by hand.

That rec blog with a great organization scheme and pretty graphics? Someone designed and implemented that organization scheme and made those graphics.

That network that posts a cool variety of stuff? People track down all that variety and queue it by hand, and other people made all the individual pieces.

That post with umpteen links to helpful resources, and information about them? Someone gathered those links, researched the sources, wrote up the information about them.

That graphic about fandom statistics? Someone compiled those statistics, analyzed them, organized them, figured out a useful way to convey the information to others, and made the post.

That event that you think looks neat? Someone wrote the rules, created the blogs and Discords, designed the graphics, did their best to promo the event so it'd succeed.

None of this was done automatically. None of it just appears whole out of the internet ether.

I think everyone realizes that fic writing and fanart creation are work, and at least some folks have got it through their heads that gif creation and graphics and moodboards take effort, and meta is usually respected for the effort that goes into it, at least as far as I've seen, but I feel like a lot of people don't really get how much labor goes into curation, too.

If people are creating resources, curating content, organizing the creations of others, gathering information, and doing other fandom activities that aren't necessarily the direct action of creation, they're doing a lot of fandom labor, and it's often largely unrecognized.

Celebrate fan work!

To folks doing this kind of labor: I see you, and I thank you. You are the backbones of our fandoms and I love you.

[courfee]

17 December 1975 / 15 May 1976

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

People talk about how “overpowered” and freaky some of the physical feats in PJO and HOO are but I think people forget that all demigods inherently have enhanced, speed, agility, and strength. So at lot of these physical feats actually make a lot of sense in their “power scaling.”

And I know a lot of people like talk about the Lois Arc jump because that is insane but there are a lot of other feats that show off the enhanced attributes some of the other demigods have.

Like, Hazel ran after a Arion, the fastest horse alive for a WHOLE day. Hours upon hours on end. And even if Arion WASN���T the fastest horse he’s still. A horse. That Hazel was able to keep up with. And then run all the way home.

Reyna EASILY knocks away giant werewolves with a knife and used her javelin like a pole vault. Annabeth managed to fight Kronos, a whole ass Titan, to a standstill. And she’s been shown to perform moves only professional acrobatic and gymnast can do. Piper threw a fifty pound shield at Medea and was described to move fast as a viper.

Jason had dodged arrows that have appeared out of no where, no warning, and Percy has side stepped bullets. BULLETS.

Not to mention that with the Lycaon and werewolves they were all out running and keeping up with WOLVES.

So, yeah, demigods have freaky physical feats.

[captmuldoon]

“i wish we could see adaptations where sherlock holmes hates the rich and is allowed to be kind to those around him and uses his abilities to support society’s underdogs” elementary was doing this back in 2012. this was only episode 4.

[treef-greef]

filling the space between us with some sense of normal

[shepscapades]

Collection of (mostly dbhc) Ethubs doodles from over the past two years or so :]