#oops megs rambling again

[itsamarlfox]

Everyone saying across the spider verse changed them as a person this is me every time I watch contact I'm going to go feral

[no1ryomafan]

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile regarding kikaider stuff but after watching Mazinkaiser I had a realization with older anime IPs when it comes to adaptations even if it’s so obvious.

When we think of anime adaptations we tend to either see “they’re 100% faithful just a few scenes might get cut out for time, or the anime might expand on the manga a tad more” (the more recent stuff) or “they start by faithfully adapting the manga before it goes into a different direction and makes up its own story” (a trend usually seen in the 2000s) but I think older anime IPs strike a interesting middle ground of “they were already different from the manga yet are still adapting elements from it.”

An obvious examples is the getter ovas change details of the manga but new which is considered the “closest” to the manga is still super different-aging up the cast, how Michiru is very different, having musashi and Benkei be one dude, etc-I would say dynapro has a general trend of doing this even if they do try to adapt key moments, but I also thought about how kikaider did this with its first anime. Instead of being 1 to 1 to the manga it changed a lot of things, and it especially feels clear with the second anime they wanted you to have read the manga.

Of course this has its downsides if all the shows expect you to read the manga first as watching anime is easier for most people-though the reverse is true for others-but I do find this a lot cooler how the anime and mangas are different from the start yet share things that it feels encouraging to read and watch both of them rather then the whole of people going “watch this anime adaptation that’s mid until it gets mid then read the rest of the manga”.

[daddymus-mamatron]

Greetings, I come in peace. So...I saw your tag about a TFE plot rewrite on a rb and. I'm very intrigued. Please kindly elaborate 🙏🙏🙏 (Forgive me if I'm too nosy! Feel free to ignore this ask. ⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄

Oh it is a PLEASURE to talk about it!!!

Ramble under cut because it's going to be long

When I was in college I had a class on cinema and my brain decided it'd be my new hyperfixation. Now that'd be fun and dandy except I got a little too into it and all I can see is patterns, archetypes & trope.

Like there is maybe 10 movies/TV shows that I didn't see the plot twist coming from a mile away. My stupid brain pick up on the most minuscule details and unravel the whole plot in a second. Which sucks sometimes.

Enters TFES.

It's great but there's a few sentences/frames that drive me insane.

When they throw the Cons in jail after episode 1, the rest of the Decepticons must know about Mandroid, they'e so close in there and in later episode it's shown they can chit-chat easily

Megatron is nice now and that's it?!?!?? He hunts & imprisons Decepticons and he's free and it's fine?!?!? AND HE STILL WEARS THE DEECPTICON BRAND?!?!?!

Speaking of cells, I knew G.H.O.S.T. was iffy the *Second* they showed the empty cells. THERE'S NOTHING IN THERE NOT EVEN A BENCH OR SOMETHING WTF?!?!

Bee casually mentioning that Rumble exploded because Soundwave was low on energon.

Swindle saying they should wait for the 'plan' instead of breaking out after Hashtag Oops

Bumblebee carrying restraining bolts

Karen torturing the 'Con, how long did that go on for?!?! How come they never spoke up about the torture??!

On the same subject, Tarentulas mentions a gun that erase memories and then we never hear about it again

There's more but I have more things to say so moving on

*inhale* THEN!!! Then there's the deleted scene (The confrontation between Megatron & Shockwave + Soundwave & Starscream freeing Shockwave) THEN!!! Then there's the mentions in the official guide that were never explored/explained

SO

I said fuck it and wrote down all the things that bothered me, asked my pal @shotimus what other things she thought were weird/missing/not explained [Shots is the TF expert, I'm still a noob] and I threw that all together in a blender. Took my favourite parts of multiple continuity (IDW, Aligned/Prime, Shatter Glass, G1 & Earthspark) and made a 6k OUTLINE of the fic I wanted to write.

The one (1) thing I was doubting the most about the plot of the fic, is Starscream is older than Megs & OP in my AU. I saw a comment on Reddit once that blew my mind (goes like this: If we’re sticking pretty closely to G1-esque Starscream, it would be pretty easy to show some more of his motivations for being so conniving. 

Just show some glimpses of the life he imagines he should have and why he is so convinced he should have it, and there could be many specific ways to go about that. All you’d have to do is show why he’s like this—you wouldn’t have to get the audience to think he’s in the right or being reasonable, and it would be interesting.) Took that and ran with it. This post reassured me I wasn't too insane for making SS older

SO

So he's a golden child that got more and more bitter as the war went on and he was more and more abused. Because I have to torture my fav blorbo.

AND THEN S2 CAME OUT

It was so bad.... I have MORE THINGS TO REWRITE. Like Soundwave ripping the 'Con badge off Megatron. There's another thing I wanna talk about it's a surprise so I'll refrain.

And that's where I'm at OTZ

The fic in question is actually a whole ass series because I'm possessed with a demon and I must rewrite the whole show?!?!?

[hoony-parker]

honey, i'm home - s.h

a/n: firstly i wanted to thank all of you for all the love my first steve drabble has received! you guys are amazing! <3. also, you can read this as a part two of this fic, or you can read it individually.

warnings: just fluff and talk about kids (if that's even a warning?)

summary: you and steve have the kids over, and everything just gets very domestic.

w/c: 1.8k (oops?)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

request: Ahh I would love a part 2 of this! The kids in college and having sleepovers at the house! @victoriajelmore

part one here!

talk steve to me

living with steve for the last four years wasn't always a blast. that's obvious.

the little fights you had every once in a while were minuscle, thank god. but if steve could just lay his shoes next to the front door instead of thrown across the room--

either way, steve was completely sure he always left the shoes next to the door. he swears on the phillies, he'd say. because now, after four years of living in philadelphia, pennsylvania, steve's become a huge fan of the phillies-- though you firmly believe he hasn't seen as much as a game.

also, steve just can't take it when you cook and just leave the dirty dishes there. "just clean it right after you finish using it," he'd tell you, and you'd always remind him, "harrington, last time i got distracted while cooking, you found a piece of my stylist's business card in your spaghetti."

other than that, living with steve was a dream. in four entire years, you hadn't had any other-dimensional incidents, which you greatly appreciated and planned to keep it that way. but, of course, being eight hours away from hawkins also meant being eight hours away from the kids. and steve, although he wouldn't admit it, missed the kids so fucking much.

every time you visited hawkins, the reunion would be so emotional— only from steve and dustin's side. and you really did have a great time visiting, but that didn't make the goodbyes any easier. again, from steve and dunstin's side.

so, when the kids finally graduated highschool and most of them got into the university of pennsylvania and, those who didn't enrolled in the philly community college, you were happy, sure. but steve was ecstatic.

and sure, you missed the silence a little. but you much rathered these days.

"i'm not saying that meg ryan's not a babe, dustin—"

"really? 'cause i heard you say it, steve. i heard you say that meg ryan in 'when harry met sally' is a babe."

"i didn't say she was a babe—," steve insisted.

"i heard you, steve. loud and clear. and may i remind you you have a girlfriend?"

steve raised an eyebrow, unamused. "i am aware, dustin, thank you." dustin gave him a side eye. "are you? cuz seconds ago i heard you call another woman a babe, stephen."

"that's not my name," muttered steve. dustin, however, ignored him as he continued rambling almost incoherently. "and i think that it's disrespectful towards y/n, y'know? saying that another woman's a babe under her own roof—,"

"stop saying babe," steve glared. "i said i thought she was pretty, alright? pretty, not a babe."

"sounds the same to me!" dustin threw his hands up in the air, his eyes comically wide.

"oh. my. god. you're gonna give me a hernia from your bickering," intervened max. "watch your soap opera and do your crossword, if you want. i don't care. just shut up. please," she rolled her eyes.

steve frowned and turned around from where he sat on the sofa, looking at max, who sat next to lucas on the bar stools at the kitchen counter. "what's with her?" he pointed towards the red headed. lucas shrugged, a brow lifted in confusion towards his girlfriend's attitude.

they all heard the keys jingle outside the front door, and they all looked at the door attentively. "i brought pizza!" you called, opening the door with one hand, your bag hanging from your forearm while you held two boxes of pizza with your other hand, pushing the door close with your foot.

steve jumped from his seat to help you, shortly admiring you. your hair was up in a messy ponytail and you were wearing your uniform from the coffee shop you were working part-time at, your schoolbag hanging from your shoulder.

you looked like a mess; exhausted, your eyes tired and with bags beneath them. your apron was still loosely wrapped around your waist with coffee and something that looked a lot like maple syrup staining the fabric. in his eyes, you looked beautiful.

he smiled warmly at you and you reciprocated it rather tiredly. steve took the boxes of pizza from your hand and your bag from your shoulder, pecking your lips in greeting, and he smiled against them when he felt you hum contently. he broke the kiss, face mere inches away from yours, and he looked into your eyes, "hi," steve smiled.

"hi," you grinned. he pecked your lips quickly twice more before heading to the kitchen to place the boxes on the counter, dodging the couple of mattresses that were sprawled all over the living room floor.

you sighed, untying your shoes and placing them next to the door before walking towards the kitchen, chuckling under your breath at the sight of all four of them— dustin, max, lucas and steve, were running around the place, opening cubboards and drawers to take out plates and silverware to place on the coffee table in front of the tv in the living room.

"evening," you called while walking into the kitchen, the three teenagers all answering you descoordinated and emotionless, distracted. dustin, who was bending down to take some placemats, suddenly stood up and pointed to steve. "y/n, steve thinks other women are hot," he rushed to say.

you playfully gasped, turning to him with an offended look. "w-what? dustin, what the hell?!" steve threw his hands up in the air, giving the curly haired boy a confused look. dustin shrugged.

"you find other women attractive? have you been ogling other girls, steve?" you asked seriously, standing up straight and looking at him in the eye for the sake of the joke.

"of course not!" steve said. "gee, calm down. don't get your panties in a twist," scoffed max with a scrunched up face. steve sighed frustradedly at the kids' attempts to get on his nerves, taking the plates from lucas and you walked towards him, pecking his lips lovingly. "we're just messing with you, lover," you took the tableware from him.

"what's with the commotion, anyway?" you asked from the loving room. "they watched that movie with meg ryan," explained max with a tight lipped smile, handing you the two water bottles to place on the table. you nodded in understanding. "meh, that's fine. i always say tom cruise looks hot in the top gun movie," you dismiss with a wave of your hand.

"ha!," steve points at dustin with a wide grin, frowning short after. "wait, what?" he turns to you. you giggle, walking towards your boyfriend and hugging his waist. "not hotter than you, though," you kissed his clothed chest. he grinned, satisfied with your words and hugged you tighter.

max scrunched up her face in disgust. "get a room."

"one more comment and you're sleeping outside, missy," steve threatened jokingly. the red headed rolled her eyes.

"we raised her and that's how she treats us," he shakes his head disapprovingly. "teenagers," you tsked. he laughed in agreement.

when you were all seated in the living room, the kids mostly on the mattresses with their plates in hand, lucas asked through a mouthful. "it feels like we're missing a lot of people."

"we are," his girlfriend deadpanned. you rubbed your hands together to get rid of the crumbs and finished chewing. "well, will and el are in cali, and mike is visiting them," you smiled tightly.

"we really should get more friends," sighed dustin. steve put his arm over the back of the couch behind you, inviting you to cuddle closer to him. "well, college is starting soon. you'll get the chance then, am i right?"

a chorus of 'yeah's' and 'i guess's' sounded through the room.

silence fell into the room, only the sound of the movie coming from the tv playing. steve frowned at the pizza. "did you get this from the place across the building?" he gestured to the pizza.

you didn't answer for a while.

"...yeah."

everyone groaned and dropped the pizza to their plates.

later that night, the kids were already in bed and you and steve were making your bed, stretching the blankets and fluffing your pillows before you got under the covers.

"i love those little rascals," steve sighed, laying on his side while burying his face further into the pillow. you rolled to your side so you were facing him. "they're good kids."

"they are," he said. "imagine how ours are gonna be," his eyes were closed, but he smiled at the idea. he pictured you, your swollen belly and with toddlers running around a house. he loved the idea.

"you've thought of that?" you smiled in surprise. steve slowly opened an eye and peeked at you. "you haven't?"

"i mean... yeah," you shrugged. you cuddled closer to him, throwing a leg over his waist. one of his arms pulled you closer, and he laid on his back so your head could rest on his chest. he let out a big breath and closed his eyes again, his free arm going under his head.

you put your chin on his chest, looking down at him. "tell me more," you whispered, and he opened his eyes shortly again to look at you while giving you a smile, and closed them once again. "well," he inhaled deeply. " we'd have a bunch of kids—,"

"oh, to start your large brood of harringtons?" you giggled. he nodded with a hum. "exactly. a whole basketball team," he said, and you laughed in surprise and delight. one of his eyes opened at the sound, and his grin widened.

"i'm serious here. i'm talking six kids," he smiled. "six?!" you laughed loudly. he hummed affirmatively again. "six little nuggets. three boys, three girls."

you laid back down on his chest, hugging him close. "have any names in mind yet?"

he kissed the crown of your head, "hmm," he thought.

"i was thinking 'benjamin' for one of the boys, 'beth' for one of the girls," he suggested. you nodded into his clothed chest, breathing in deeply in relaxation and breathing out contently at the smell of the remnants of his cologne.

"i love 'em," you told him, your voice already dripping with sleep. "yeah?" he spoke into your temple, dropping a few more kisses there.

"yeah."

"maybe we could name other two 'anna' and 'toby'?" you looked up at him. steve smiled, though confused. "like my grandparents?"

you nodded. laying back down. "i know how much you love them, and i've always liked their names, too."

his hand searched after one of yours, lacing your fingers together. the brown eyed brought yours to his face, kissing your knuckles. "i'm glad we're doing this together," he whispered into your skin, placing more kisses on your fingers.

"we're not doing anything yet," you giggled.

he jumped into action, turning you around and throwing you on your back to the bed, and you let out a surprised yelp. steve hovered over you, and looked down at you with a smirk on his face. he leaned down, placing a single kiss on your neck.

"wanna start now?"

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Hot Foot

 Panda’s Notes: I wrote this for the exclusive and express purpose of making @eldritchtickles suffer. So I hope he likes hates it. >w<

Find it on Ao3!

Zagreus was feeling… well, something; he wasn’t sure what to call it. He swirled his fingers slowly in his scrying pool as he narrowed his eyes.

It might have started with Hypnos… Zagreus flinched a bit as the water shimmered to remind him of his own memories.

--------

“Wake up!” Zagreus had said sharply upon approaching the sleeping attendant, quickly moving his hands to scribble on Hypnos’ bare soles.

Hypnos jolted with a squeak, kicking Zagreus’ shoulder and knocking him to the floor. “Oops.” He murmured, not apologetic in the slightest as he chuckled. He let his clipboard and quill hover as he leaned to offer the godling a hand. “You’re back early, Tickles.” He smirked, heaving his brother to his feet as he glanced at his parchment. “Ah, the Wretched Sneak got you this time, huh? You never were good at dodging pokes, you know.” He taunted, quickly lifting Zagreus’ arm to prod his ribs.

“As if you’re any better!” Zagreus argued with a slight smile, covering his side and pulling his arm back. “Those lash marks on your ankles are cute.”

“Huh?!” Hypnos flinched, a gold blush lighting his cheeks as he glanced at his feet. There wasn’t anything there, except for Zagreus’ nails zipping up his soles again before catching both of his ankles. He traced lines around Hypnos’ ankles, seeming to follow a path that had been covered over.

“Heh, I’ll be sure to ask Meg if she knows how much you like feathers on your toes.” Zagreus taunted, about to walk away when Hypnos casually slipped an arm around him.

“Don’t think that just because your feet aren’t ticklish, I can’t get you back.” Hypnos smirked, wiggling his fingers under Zagreus’ chin.

-------

Zagreus jumped slightly, having practically felt the brush of Hypnos’ fingers on his neck as he remembered that conversation. He huffed as he splashed the water to silence it. He didn’t feel any closer to labelling the thoughts running through his head though. He peered hesitantly into the pool again, and the water rippled oddly.

------- 

Orpheus plucked quiet little notes, a rare smile gracing his face as he seemed to look for a rhythm of some kind.

“Tell me, mate,” Zagreus said gently, leaning on the arm of the musician’s chair. “How often do you tune a lyre anyway?”

“As often as you must, my friend.” He shrugged, smiling a bit more as the prince rolled his eyes. “Or as often as you use it. I believe I tuned mine…perhaps every other day when we were performing the most. These days, I’ve come to notice that this lyre your father gave me doesn’t need much tuning; although, I admit I can’t help the urge to adjust the strings in occasion—" Orpheus had glanced up and around, finding Zagreus seated at his feet. “Am I rambling?”

Zagreus chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as his elbow balanced on his knee. “Yes. It’s nice.” He smirked. “You seem so relaxed when you speak freely.”

Orpheus shook his head, crossing one leg onto his opposite knee as he continued to play. “You’re always so kind, my prince. Although now that I’ve given it some thought, why do you ask about tuning? Have you acquired a lyre of your own?”

“Ah, I admit I’ve certainly considered it, but I asked about instrument tuning because a certain someone needs some tuning up.” Zagreus grinned a bit deviously when Orpheus didn’t seem to get it, reaching to pull the musician’s foot into his lap.

“I’m not sure that I—Ah!” Orpheus’ fingers tripped on a foul note as the prince’s knuckles dragged up his sole.

“Was I too subtle for you this time, Orpheus?” He taunted, drawing swirling shapes with his nails. “Or have you not learned to keep your wits about you yet?”

Orpheus cringed, covering his mouth as snickers rattled his frame and as his free hand attempted to find its place on the lyre.

Zagreus chuckled, shaking his head and scribbling his fingers. “See, you’re trying to play while I’m doing this; how am I to take that except as a challenge?” He sneered, watching Orpheus crumble into giggles as he kept a tight grip on his ankle. The prince hummed to himself, feigning an innocent grin as he reached up over his head. Orpheus had barely gotten his bearings when Zagreus presented the Harpy Feather Duster. He yelped softly with a chuckle as the blue plumes were shoved under his chin.

“As promised, mate.” Zagreus joked, his smirk returning. “But if you kick me, you die.”

Orpheus had been pretty unconvinced by his bluff, his leg flailing a bit when the feathers flicked along his sole.

“I’d call it a pity that you’ve yet to sing for us, Orpheus; but at the moment, I admit this is my favorite song of yours.”

-------

Zagreus found himself chuckling. It was still his favorite song, and Orpheus performed it well.

This feeling… What was it? Zagreus stared into the scrying pool, his eyes widening before he stepped back and covered his face.

Actually, maybe it was better he didn’t think about this anymore at all for the rest of time.

The water rippled. His memories called to him. Zagreus sealed his fate with a glance.

-------

Hades was “mad” at Zagreus, which was different from how he was when he was just normal mad. Zagreus had approached his father’s desk with a pair of leather sandals dangling from their broken strings between his fingers; and when Hades looked down at him, the look in his eyes almost seemed like…relief? The boy was puzzled for a moment until his father scooped him up and announced that court was adjourned for now.

“I’m sorry, Father.” The prince murmured as he was carried to his bedroom, earning a soft grunt that he couldn’t decipher. He was set down on his blue bedsheets, and his father seemed careful to let his legs dangle over the side.

Hades simply held out his hand, and Zagreus handed over the sandals to be inspected. At a glance, the soles seemed fine, but the insides were burned black; and the strings that Zagreus always struggled to tie around his ankles had several points where they’d been burned through and hastily tied back together. It was a wonder he’d been able to attempt tying them, let alone struggle with it.

“How many is that now?” Hades asked with a sigh, kneeling beside his son’s bed. “Do you remember?”

Zagreus nodded quickly, and Hades watched him count on his fingers. “Five…?” He said with all the confidence of a pair of burned sandals.

Hades chuckled, but he nodded. “Indeed. Five in half as many months. I won’t be requesting any more pairs if you’re just going to burn them all.”

Zagreus pouted, kicking his feet softly. “I don’t do it on purpose, Father…”

“I’m aware.” Hades hummed, moving his hands to lift Zagreus’ feet by their heels. “You get this from me, I’m afraid, but controlling it requires managing your emotions.”

Zagreus tipped his head, seeming to process that statement.

“You have to be calm, Zagreus.”

“I’m calm!” The child insisted, smiling brightly and bouncing a bit. His soles glowed a bit brighter, and Hades quirked an eyebrow as he felt the heat grow more intense. “…R-Right?”

Hades shook his head, tapping his son’s soles with his fingertips. “I don’t think so. What are you thinking about?”

“Um… I’m thinking about when I was playing with Than and Hypnos, and then Meg came to play even though she hasn’t in a long time, and we were running on the balcony, and that’s when the strings…” He blinked as he looked down; his feet were blazing orange, and red heat radiated up his ankles. “Oh… I see!”

“Do you?” Hades couldn’t seem to resist a smile. “I don’t think you’ve got it yet. What else were you thinking about?”

Zagreus tapped his chin, but he took a breath to steady himself. “I was thinking about Mother and you.” His feet cooled just slightly, and his toes flexed a bit as he watched them curiously. “Mother Nyx was away crafting the night and you…” He seemed to hesitate, almost looking for another thought.

Hades watched him, letting his thumbs rest on the tops of his feet as he found himself understanding. The heat was indeed fading. “You thought of me…” He sighed, moving his fingers slowly. “Because I was busy?”

“Um…maybe.” Zagreus murmured even though he was nodding, and he squirmed a little as he put a hand over his face to hide it. A giggle slipped out of his mouth, and a bit of heat reignited.

“Calm, Zagreus.” Hades tried not to smile, his fingers flexing purposefully. “Control.”

“I’m calm.” The boy insisted again, hardly any more convincing with the giggles falling out of him. “I’m ca—Stop tickling me!” He laughed, hiding his face again, but his reactions grew measured whenever the heat increased.

“I’m not doing anything, boy.”

“Liar…”

Hades paused, glancing up slowly; and Zagreus’s soles blazed brightly again as he covered his mouth. “You would accuse me of lying, boy?”

Zagreus squealed and tried to scramble backwards, only to get caught by one of his ankles and lifted upside down over his father’s shoulder. His hands flailed as Hades’ fingers dug softly into his ribcage, and he laughed brightly and tried to kick.

Hades returned to work with Zagreus zipping past to find his friends again. Small sparks followed after his small footsteps as he laughed excitedly. The burns on Hades’ fingertips were minor, and they were healed within the first hour after court reconvened.

 --------

Zagreus groaned heavily into his pillow, crossing his legs under himself as he sat on the bed.

He was jealous. A little bit at least. Maybe he was nostalgic. He was definitely wishing he could think about something else.

“Prince?”

Zagreus nearly jumped out of his skin when someone’s hand rested on his head. Achilles flinched away from him with a chuckle, setting his spear against the wall.

“Achilles?”

“Are you alright, lad? You seem troubled. We can postpone the exercises you wanted if you need to talk.”

“Ah, no.” Zagreus insisted, standing up suddenly and dropping the pillow on the bed. “I, uh… Sorry, sir. Please, let’s get started; I’ll even give you the first shot this time.”

Achilles watched the prince run out to the balcony, chuckling softly as he followed a moment later.

 “You seem awfully unbalanced today, lad…” Achilles called as Zagreus was looking over his weapons. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I assure you I’m quite certain, sir.” The prince said firmly, taking hold of Varatha and spinning it between his hands. “A knock or two in the head would do me good, so…” He paused as he heard an unfamiliar clatter, spinning around to see Achilles apparently wincing as he flexed Malphon’s fingers over his own. “Sir, what are you—?”

“Ah, well, I figured it’s about time I employ other strategies, prince.” The shade grinned, turning his wrists and getting a feel for the weight of the gauntlets. “You’ve grown so skilled since you were young; I fear you’ve seen all that I’m capable of with my spear.”

“I highly doubt that sir; although, I admit I wouldn’t have thought you’d be interested in Malphon.”

“Perhaps I’ll surprise you yet then; hand-to-hand combat and wrestling were quite popular in Greece when I was your age. Or, when I was young, I should say. Now then, I believe you offered to allow me the first strike.”

Zagreus chuckled and shook his head, holding Varatha defensively as Achilles lunged toward him. A sharp punch in the chest stung quite a bit more than he’d expected, stunning him enough that Achilles got ahold of his spear to start a grapple.

Zagreus adjusted his hold, standing his ground and pushing back hard. “Alright, I may have miscalculated. You still have quite a bit of fight for someone who claims to have lost his taste for war.”

Achilles laughed a bit, adjusting his stance to pull Zagreus’ spear. He twisted at the waist, pulling Zagreus across his front leg and wrenching Varatha out of his hands as he fell. “You mustn’t taunt me if you can’t even keep your stance, lad. I hardly regret embarrassing you after a performance like that.”

Zagreus cringed as he lifted himself up. “Embarrassed? I’ve been knocked over befo—Ack!” He had extended a hand, attempting to call Varatha from where Achilles had thrown it, but before the weapon could respond, Zagreus was flinching away from a jab at his waist. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, heh, apologies lad. Consider this… For old times’ sake, perhaps. I like to think I owe you for that arrow you shot at my back a few weeks ago. And more accurately…” Achilles grinned, stepping closer to him again and grabbing at his wrists to attempt to shove him down. “You read like an open book.”

“I-I—You… Sir, wait!” Zagreus cried out, unable to keep from smiling until Achilles swept his legs out from under him.

Malphon’s claws dug deep into his sides as Achilles perched himself on his legs, and he quickly found himself regretting the minutes he spent tormenting Orpheus with them. Okay, that wasn’t true, but his conscience was certainly making an argument for it. The Fates had curious ways indeed.

Zagreus clutched at Achilles’ arm, laughing helplessly and writhing as those fingers crawled up and down his stomach.

The shade chuckled, pressing his palms against his student’s sides. “Honestly, lad, you could at least pretend to put up a better fight. Are you sure there’s nothing you need to talk about?”

“It isn’t important!” Zagreus insisted through giggles, resting an arm over his face.

That didn’t mean it was nothing though. Achilles rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Well, if you’re sure. While I have you though…” He hummed, pressing one hand to the stone under them as he turned. He glanced curiously over the prince’s feet, the heat radiating off of them seeming to fluctuate as he settled himself. “You mentioned once that you couldn’t feel the new rug you bought for your room, didn’t you?”

Zagreus blushed a bit at the memory and chuckled. “Yes, hardly a change at all. I could tell the difference by pressure, but I was at least hoping the texture w—Hey!” His voice had escaped as a squeak when one of Malphon’s metal digits pressed firmly into his sole and zipped up toward his toes.

“You felt that, I take it?” Achilles laughed a bit, hooking his fingers into both of his feet and raking them up and down. Zagreus broke immediately, laughing loudly and trying to reach his back with one hand.

“I’m afraid you’re a bit too tall for that one these days, lad.” Achilles taunted when the prince just barely hooked his robes, dragging his fingers up through the prince’s toes until he was squealing.

“I yield; I yield, sir, please!” Zagreus cried out, trying to squirm with a bit more earnest.

Achilles chuckled softly and paused, pushing himself up to stand over him. “I will admit that was quite a bit of fun. It would seem these are more effective as weapons than I originally thought.”

He offered a hand, and Zagreus rolled his eyes and reached to take it, only to scald his hand on the heated metal gauntlets. “Ouch…” He hissed, yanking his hand back and looking it over.

Achilles couldn’t help laughing, removing one gauntlet to offer his bare hand and patting his shoulder before going to place Malphon in its spot. “Apologies, prince. Now, then… Perhaps you’d be interested in more traditional training?”

Zagreus rested his hands on his hips. “Well, sir, that depends.” He reached out, calling Varatha into his hand. “How quickly can you arm yourself?”

The shade smirked, taking a stance and leading his opponent in a short circle. “Energetic as always…”

“As always, indeed. …And thank you, sir.”

[sgt-celestial]

helloooo it is i the supernatural anon from a day or two ago :)

may or may not be binge watching it slightly so I've already finished season one and one episode of season 2. what can i say, not only am i enjoying the show but I'm very excited and impatient for castiel to show up so i will probably keep this binge watching up until season 4.

as for season 1 tho,, man,, ok imma roast it a bit before i get into the stuff i loved because most of the time the first few episodes, or even first season, of a show can be pretty bad while they are still figuring out what works and what doesn't.

--

ngl episodes 2-9 were a little boring. i think it's because they set up that whole 'their mother and jess died to a demon' thing and didn't mention it much for quite a few episodes after? apart from the 'we gotta find dad' stuff of course. i think those episodes were important though because it allows us to get a feel of the main characters and the types of creatures that live in the same world as them, but after so many episodes it gets a bit boring.

the structure of those episodes was a bit common as well. like you can see the same type of 'audience watches thing happen, then watches the main characters deal with it' in many other shows, and it becomes a bit predictable after a while (Johnathan Creek is a show that uses this structure, it's basically the same thing except it's mysteries without supernatural elements, each mystery and solution per episode is really clever)

after episode 9 the stories became far more interesting, which makes the predictable structure far more forgivable.

allowing the main characters to create relationships with other characters also played a huge part in it's improvement. like the woman with the brain tumor, the ending to that episode became far more difficult to predict because on one hand dean and the viewer has now bonded with this woman and feels pity for her, but on the other hand someone innocent will die. i mean they did it before in eps 2-9, but with this plus the more interesting stories it became easier to feel for these characters.

speaking of that faith episode, as well as the demon truck one, i see what you mean about the homophobia and racism. i think it's meant to be there because of historical stuff as well as outdated religious stereotypes. of course this doesn't excuse it, but that's the reason i think it's there.

--

i absolutely loved the episodes with their father and the demon they're trying to kill. i think the show is far more suited to an ongoing story rather than a different issue popping up each episode. that's not to say it should be all ongoing story, spicing it up with one offs is important too.

i think it was a great choice to introduce characters like bob or meg (i think? I'm bad at remembering names oops) because it gives a sense of the characters world being far larger than what we see on screen, which is important to make it convincing.

it also gives us an opportunity to see how the characters interact with characters that exist for longer than a single episode, which adds more depth to their character and makes them far more interesting and real.

and the whole car crash thing?? and the episode after with the reaper and making a deal with the demon?? and the dad's death?? clearly what I've watched so far is only just scratching the surface of what this show has planned and it's potential. very very excited to watch season 2 :)

and again, no pressure to write a whole 5 paragraphs back in response, or even respond fast, i don't wanna burn you out lol

Anon, I can wholeheartedly tell you that your asks could not possibly burn me out! They're a highlight to my day :) and, me too, anon. I managed to binge all 15 seasons within 29 days (which I guess says alot about my priorities).

I'm going to confess, I actually enjoy the Monster Of The Week™ episodes inbetween the storyline; then again, really plot-heavy shows tend to tire me out, so I'm definitely a biased opinion when it comes to MoTW eps.

And yes! Faith has always stood out to me as one of my favourites in Season 1. One quote that stuck with me was "if you're going to have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen; You have to have it when they don't." Like. Holy shit.

As for Meg and Bobby? THEE side characters. I love them so so much (especially because they aren't afraid to criticise the Winchesters <3). Sometimes the show tries to force in a brothers-only sort of plot, which is fine, but cuts off so many fantastic allies that could make it a great deal more interesting! So (without mentioning names as to keep this spoiler-free) that's why I absolutely adore some of the late-season side-characters.

I think I've covered everything in your ask - again, thank you so so much for sending it in, they're really fun to answer!!! :) I hope I didn't ramble too much!!!

[doeeyeddarlingxo]

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 17

The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training - Chapter 17

AO3 | Previous | Next

Word Count: 1573

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: T

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 17

You can’t deal with afternoon lessons today. It’s been nearly a week since the breakfast fiasco; you’ve tried to keep a low profile since then, with varying levels of success. Loki hasn’t spoken to you at all, hasn’t even eaten any meals in the dining hall since that day, but Lady Amara has been lecturing you every chance you get, and you can’t stand it. And now that the initial novelty of it all has worn off, now that you’re solidly enveloped in a daily routine of etiquette classes and Girl-World politics, you’re more homesick than ever. Never mind that skipping today will only get you in more trouble; you’re done. Really, truly done. 

Meg isn’t in your room. I mean, she has other stuff to do. I can’t expect her to be at my beck and call 24/7. And I’m not even supposed to be here right now. But it still saddens you. The other girls aren’t terrible, but they all seem to actually want to win the competition, and Meg is your only real friend who doesn’t have any stock in the crown. The other servants are too afraid to talk to you. You’d go looking for Albert - he was nice, at least - but you don’t have the first idea of where to find him.

As much as you want to avoid Lady Amara, you really, really don’t want to spend the afternoon in your room doing nothing. 

I mean...I am falling behind on my real-world studies. Lady Amara has to have gotten all those history and government theory books from somewhere. A castle this big has to have a library. You find a quiet serving girl who, after jumping when you address her, gives you directions in a tiny, squeaky voice. You tiptoe past the Ladies’ Parlor, where your absence has no doubt been noticed by now, and around the corner, and…

Wow.

It’s breathtaking. So many books, you don’t even know where to start. Just entering the cavernous room calms you; you pick a random volume up off a nearby desk and open it, relishing in the feel and smell. You can’t read a word of it, though. It’s written in some kind of symbol-language; runes, or something. There have got to be English books in here somewhere…

“Lady (Y/N)?”

You whirl around at the sound of your name, and find yourself no more than a few inches away from a very angry-looking Loki. 

Oh, gosh. 

Again, you haven’t interacted with him at all for days. And you had never exactly apologized for your defiance in defending Albert...

“Your Majesty! I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t realize you, um, came in.” Please, please don’t vaporize me.

“I could tell.” His face is completely deadpan, but you swear you can detect just the faintest hint of humor behind his words. 

You pretend not to notice. Just in case you’re wrong.

Quick, say something! “Any recommendations?” Gah, not that!

He lifts an eyebrow, perplexed. “What?”

“Books. I’m here for books - of course, it’s a library - and I didn’t know - I mean, like, I’m not familiar with what’s here. In the library. This library, I mean, all of the books from Asgard, I don’t - you know,” you finish lamely.

“Do I?”

“Maybe?” Your eyes dart around the room, before returning to his face. “I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be here, or something? I mean,” you interrupt yourself, wincing. “Argh. That came out wrong. I promise I’m not trying to be sassy or anything, I just - “

“Sassy?”

You rack your brain for an appropriate synonym. “Sarcastic. Dryly humorous. Backtalk.”

“I see.”

“So, um, if you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.” He doesn’t respond. “Okay.” 

“Wait.” He says it quietly, so much so that, for a moment, you're unsure of whether or not he actually spoke. Still, you turn back around. “What sort of books are you interested in?”

You shrug. “What have you got?”

“Everything.”

“All right.” You chew on your lip, considering. “What are your favorites?”

He appears surprised. “You want to - “

“Sure, why not?” Your eyes widen as you realize what you have just done. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you.”

“No,you shouldn’t have.” You shrug, and he tilts his head ever so slightly to one side. “But you did.”

“Um.” You’re momentarily lost in his appearance. With his hair tucked behind his ears and his undereye circles erased by the soft, dusky glow of the candelabras, he looks different. Younger. No more sharp edges - save for his eyes, which are bright and piercing as ever, now scanning your face as intently as you were his mere seconds ago. 

He begins to walk towards you - just one step, but, tense as you are, you can’t help but start at the movement. He purses his lips, trying to refrain from laughing. “Lady (Y/N), after the way you reprimanded me at breakfast last week, I hardly think you’d be one to worry about speaking out of turn.”

You let out a short breath of air, trying to pull yourself together. “I was raised to be generally polite, Your Majesty. The only time I ignore that is when I feel someone is deserving of reprimand...ation.” Is that a word? You don’t think it’s a word. Oh, well.

He smirks - either at your bluntness or at the clunkiness of your speech, you’re not sure which. Probably the latter. “So I deserved it, then?”

“Yes.” You say it without thinking, nodding in earnest; as soon as you realize what just came out of your mouth, you feel your eyes widen, and the blood rise up in your cheeks. “I mean - ”

He holds up a hand. “I appreciate your candor.”

“Okay. Good.” You nod. Does this mean you’re off the hook? That was...easier than I’d expected. You’re quick to change the subject, before he has a chance to change his mind. "So. Books.” A thought occurs. “Do you have anything on Norse mythology?”

*******************************************

He helps you bring the stack of books to a table in the back corner, hidden by all the shelves. You’re surprised by the lack of tension - just like that, you’ve been forgiven. It’s a little scary, how quickly his mind can change, but in this case, you’re grateful.

He actually sits, and helps you to translate the beginning of the book you’d picked up earlier. You can’t help but feel you’re learning much more useful information than you would have if you’d actually gone to your afternoon lesson. “So the language magic doesn’t apply to books, then?”

“Not all books. Not all languages, either.” He runs his fingers back and forth across the runes. “This particular one died long ago. On Asgard, it’s commonly used in treaties and contracts, but never out loud.”

“I’ve always wondered how that happens.”

“How what happens?”

You put your elbows up on the table, ignoring all sense of propriety as you lean your cheek on your hand. “How do people just...stop speaking a language? I’m assuming it’s not a conscious decision, because that would require everyone who speaks it to stop all at once, and have a second option available. Does it evolve until it’s unrecognizable? Because then the language is still alive, just in a different skin. It’s fascinating.” You realize he’s staring at you. “Did I say something wrong? I ramble sometimes, I know, when I’m nervous, or - ”

“I make you nervous?”

“Are you surprised?”

“No, but…” He cocks his head to the left. “You’re very open about your feelings, Lady (Y/N).”

“I - yeah. I don’t mean to be. Teenager-itis, I guess, huh?” He doesn’t laugh, and you quickly look down at your hands, which are now folded neatly in your lap. “This is a completely different world than what I’m used to. The palace. Good, but different. Everybody is much more reserved in terms of what they say.” You shrug. “I guess I’m just not used to having that kind of filter.”

“I understand.”

You look up. “You do?”

“Nobody is born with an innate understanding of politics, Lady (Y/N),” he chuckles. You relax a little. “Which is why Lady Amara saw it fit to schedule daily lessons for the candidates. Every afternoon.”

Oops. You suppose you should have expected him to call you out on it eventually. “Right. About that…”

“I’ll make your excuses to Lady Amara.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “You can...well, of course you can, but you - ”

“I will,” he assures you. “Though I trust you’ll be present for all future sessions, beginning tomorrow?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” You don’t want to push your luck any further. You catch a glimpse of the clock on the other wall, and scramble to start getting the books in order. “Wow, it’s late. I should get ready for dinner, just in case…” He doesn’t respond, and you look back up to see him gone. Again. But, just as it was with the masquerade ball, he’s left you a note. 

Lady (Y/N),

Leave the books on the table. The librarians will come to sort them out before they lock the doors; if you would like, I can have them sent up to your room. 

My apologies for my abrupt departure. I must ready for dinner, and I suggest you do the same - I am sure, after missing Lady Amara’s afternoon lecture, you wouldn’t want to be late. 

Until then,

L.L.

[thranduilsperkybutt]

(Not) Another Christmas Alone

Gif sources:  1  |  2

Pairings:  Frank Castle/Reader

Warnings: Real minor angst(?), mainly comfort and fluff. Frank being adorable. My undying love for Frank Castle. A few curse words. Excessive Christmas visuals because I LOVE CHRISTMAS ALRIGHT.

Word Count:  1,602 words

Reader Gender:  Female

Author:  Meg

Summary:  When a dead man shows up on your doorstep, you find yourself getting more than you ever could have wished for this Christmas, while he finds himself feeling a small bit of normalcy again.

A/N:  Uhm, I’m sorry, but I just finished watching The Punisher: Season 1 and I couldn’t stop myself. Oops, my hand slipped! SORRY IF THIS IS GARBAGE. <3 xx

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He knew this was a bad idea. That was why he hesitated on the sidewalk. The Punisher looked up from beneath his dark hoodie, ignored by any stragglers passing by on the cold winter’s night thanks to the anonymity the shadows of midnight provided. His lips quirked upwards slightly as he located the apartment window, noting the flashing multicolored lights that framed it from the inside and allowed a short view beyond a half-closed curtain. It was just enough to see the petite Christmas tree that its occupant had placed where, as Frank knew firsthand, was the only area of the apartment it would possibly fit.

His eyes dart from the tree to a glimpse of a shadow that moves across the curtain, alerting him to what he already knew: you were home. Of course you were; it was midnight on Christmas Eve--- officially Christmas Day by now, technically--- and there he was standing out in the cold, debating whether or not to even make his presence known.

Hell, would you even want to see him after how things left off between the two of you? Not to mention the amount of danger he knew any involvement with him brought.

The fact he was standing here at all was a testament to how selfish he was being, he figured. The truth was, he knew you were spending Christmas alone, but this was just as much for his own sake as it was for yours.

“Damn it,” Frank curses under his breath, a puff of hot air forming visibly in the night air and catching the light of a nearby street light before his boots push against the cement beneath him, moving forwards towards the building as he makes up his mind. The usual certainty he did everything with abandoned him now, though it always seemed to do that where you were involved. You had a way of making his judgement weak, and he wasn’t too sure whether he enjoyed that feeling or not.

Frank finds himself at your door just as familiarly quick as the last time he’d been there, despite the fact that that had been nearly two months ago by now. He wasn’t one for knocking, usually, but this time he felt he needed to. As if what happened when he’d seen you last had changed your dynamic in a way that he wasn’t certain if he was still allowed to barge in or not. Not that you'd ever given him permission in the first place. Still, for the first time, he knocks. Three quick ones that have him glancing either way down the hallway afterwards to be sure he hadn’t attracted the attention of any other tenants.

Then, for the first time, he waits outside your door.

Frank is more tense than he’d expected when he hears your small gasp beyond the thin door, no doubt at seeing him through the peephole. That feeling only intensifies as the door cracks open, revealing a wide-eyed you, hair pulled up in a way that screamed you hadn’t expected company, as if the flannel pajamas you wore didn’t already announce that fact.

“Frank, I---” you begin, guilt flashing across your face, but he interrupts.

“Can I come in?” he asks and you step to the side. Of course you’d let him in. When he walks past, he notices the fuzzy red socks that clung to your feet, white stripes across them in a way that reminded him of candy canes, which was possibly the initial intent. His smile returns at that and, for a moment, he forgets the tense air surrounding his surprise appearance, teasing you, “Nice socks.”

You shoot him a slightly defensive look as you shut and lock the door after him, but the quirk at your lips proves you know he’s teasing, “Hey, they’re comfy. Don’t knock ‘em ‘til you try ‘em.” He stands not far from the doorway, letting the heat of your apartment soak through his heavy clothes and into his bones. You give him a quick glance-over, relieved at the relative lack of injuries as compared to the last time you’d seen him, though you notice that he looks immensely awkward standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he had no clue what to do with them otherwise. You decide to get to the point. “Frank, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you--- really glad--- but I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again after...” trailing off, you glance past the side of his head, focusing on the Christmas tree near your window in an effort to avoid direct eye-contact when your face flushes at the remembrance of the events two months prior.

His boots are heavy against your floor as he takes the three-steps distance towards you, forcing your eyes back to his as he pushes his hood back. Your breath catches in your throat at the intensity in them. Frank was always intense, but this--- this was intense in a way he’d never looked at you before. An apology in them, just as guilty as yours, and the slightest bit of hope that what he’d said to you last time could be forgotten.

“I was an asshole before,” it comes out gruff, and you realize that’s just about as close to an apology as you’re going to get from him in this moment, but it’s not insincere. The opposite, actually.

“If you were an asshole, I was one, too,” you manage your own apology, eyes flicking instinctively to his lips that seemed to grow ever closer, causing you to ramble, “We’re a couple of assholes, it would seem.”

He lets out a chuckle, lips quirking into a crooked smile as he catches himself from kissing you, pressing his forehead against yours instead, “I guess so.”

“I'm glad you came back,” you sigh, eyes closing reflexively as relief washes through you that he was actually standing here right now. That he wasn’t mad at you. That you hadn’t messed up whatever this was between you. When he’d walked out your door after the things you’d both said, the things you’d confessed to him, the things he told you he couldn’t do... Well, you’d thought that was the last you’d ever see of him.

You were glad you were wrong.

“I should’ve stayed away from you,” Frank murmurs. “When you said you loved me, I just... I couldn’t say it back. It’s dangerous for you to say that, (Y/N). Everyone I love ends up dead.”

“Did you come here to tell me you can’t love me, again? You got that point across pretty clearly last time,” you open your eyes, finding his conflicted ones as his brow furrows against yours.

Frank grunts in annoyance, “I spent two months trying to convince myself I didn’t love you.”

“And did you?” you prompt, quickly clarifying, “Convince yourself of that?”

“No.”

It’s a whisper against your lips. Almost pained, disappearing as soon as it’s formed when he closes the gap between you. Guilt-ridden and full of the regret of whatever this would mean in the future--- whatever inevitability would come with the fact of what had just been confessed between the two of you.

Your fingertips reach upwards, brushing against the prick of the stubble at his jaw as you smooth your hand along the side of his face while his own does nearly the same on the opposite side of your kiss. The kiss is slow, deep, and leaves you spiraling into an abyss where nothing else existed except for this moment, right here, right now. His hand cups your jaw, calloused, but far more gentle than a name like The Punisher would announce him to be. When his thumb rubs a circle on your flushed cheek, you reach for his hand, holding him to you as if you were afraid of the possibility of his letting go.

Frank leads the kiss, firm against you until the very moment that you wrap an arm around his neck and hum into his lips. That’s when he breaks, hand slipping from your face to your waist where he pulls you flush against him, gentleness giving way to pure need and want. Your hands find their grips in his hoodie as he pushes you against the door to your apartment in the heat of the moment. Before things can go further, he pulls away, returning to the position he was in before with his forehead pressed against yours. Frank seems to need to catch his breath in much the same way you caught yours, before he leans back entirely.

“How long are you staying?” you find yourself asking in an attempt to ignore the pounding of your heart against your chest and the heat in your cheeks, moving past him until you find yourself falling into your couch. He follows, sitting beside you and pulling your legs into his lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You can’t help your smile as you joke, “Can The Punisher take a break for Christmas, or are you going to leave again?”

Frank shakes his head, gaze slipping to meet yours out of the corner of his eye when he smiles, “I’m all yours for Christmas.”

“That’s the best present I could ask for,” you begin, leaning forwards to place a kiss against his jaw, only for him to turn his head and catch your lips with his own the second go-round. When the quick kiss ends, you chuckle, “Merry Christmas, Frank.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

This Christmas, neither of you were going to be alone.