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#he’s fucking terrifying and I love him
lilislegacy · 2 months
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Percy at ease
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Percy calm, but a little on edge
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Percy when mildly angry
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Friendly reminder that Percy jackson - our beloved silly adorable seaweed brain - is absolutely terrifying. When he’s angry, when he’s scared, when he’s on edge - he’s not warm and fuzzy.
No other character gets that reaction from people. Jason (the sweetie) is perceived as calm and in control, nico (our favorite self-outcasted outcast) is perceived as solemn and creepy, reyna (girlboss queen slay) is perceived as confident and assertive, and annabeth (our girl) is perceived as fierce, clever, and formidable. They are all intimidating to an extent.
But not like Percy. No. Becasue even when he’s at ease, he’s described as wild and disobedient. And when he’s not at ease, even if just little bit, he’s perceived as powerful, dangerous, and scary. Someone who NOBODY wants to mess with. Nobody even questions his power. One look from him has literal gangs running the other way. One look from him has Leo so scared that he’s literally shaking, and feeling the same innate fright and alarm that he does when jason summons an ear-piercing, earth-shaking, deadly bolt of lighting.
like… HELLO??? can we all just sit on that for a moment?? good lord
One angry look from percy has people thinking one thing: Run.
Percy is, canonically, the character that people find the most frightening and intimidating.
And unless he’s in a good mood - which you better hope he is - the reality is that most of us would be completely terrified of him if we met him.
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everysongineverykey · 8 months
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as part of the getting-worse-before-it-gets-better portion of aziraphale and crowley's season 3 relationship arc we NEED a desperate "i love you" from aziraphale met with a hissed, spiteful, and quickly regretted "i forgive you" from crowley
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meliake · 13 days
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i know like nobody gives a shit about this but like- do you ever think all the og dndads just miss the nick?
not narkolous, not nicky, Nick.
that poor, neglected kid. No matter how much Glenn can love Nicky he still lost his son, lost so much time with that kid he would and did give everything for.
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greenglowinspooks · 6 months
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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Prologue)
Tw: Danny is having a Certified Bad Time™️, dissociation, vivisection mention, suicidal thoughts (kinda?), basically just heavy angst for now
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
Note: you don’t need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the story, it’s mostly just to explore Danny’s headspace when he first escapes the GiW
(Pt. 1)
(Subscription post/masterlist)
Danny rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself as the truck he was in continued to speed along.
It had been an eternity since he was captured by the GiW. He didn’t know why they were moving him to a new base after all this time, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing.
Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel afraid.
He couldn’t feel much of anything these days. The GiW had a routine and they stuck to it religiously, and that routine had sucked every bit of Danny’s soul out of him.
Something churned in his chest regardless. Anticipation? Excitement, maybe?
Perhaps they were finally going to let Danny fade. Was that a bad thing? Danny couldn’t decide if it was or not.
He wasn’t scared of fading. It seemed inevitable, especially with how he was treated on the daily. He would stop hurting if he faded.
Still, he’d like to see Jazz and Tucker and Sam at least one more time before he does. That would be nice.
The truck continues forward, unmoved by Danny’s thoughts.
The sound is nice, Danny thinks.
The hum of the engine, the crackling of pebbles being crushed under the tires, the electrical buzz of the anti-ghost handcuffs and shield keeping him trapped.
The only sound Danny’s heard the last few years has been the clatter of metal tools, the crunching of bone, the sawing and thunking and squishing of surgery, the murmur of voices.
It’s nice to hear something new, Danny thinks.
Strange, but nice.
The truck stops again. Another red light, probably. Danny continues rocking back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock.
Seconds pass. Second after second after second.
Danny hears shouting now.
Gunshots crack outside, and Danny sees holes appear in the side of the truck.
That’s definitely new.
Chaos is erupting outside. There’s a lot of screaming, and frantic footsteps, and cars zooming away.
The driver door slams open and shut. The truck speeds off, tires screaming as the driver swerves erratically.
Danny is thrown back and forth in the back of the truck, bumping up against the many weapons and other miscellaneous inventions stored alongside him. Pain blooms in his head and chest, an agonizing heat lining his surgical wounds. Danny licks his lips underneath his muzzle. It would be nice if the driver was a bit better at their job, he thinks.
The truck continues careening wildly.
Danny counts the seconds.
Second after second after second.
After around two thousand, three hundred and seventy four seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Danny didn’t lose count this time. He’s proud of himself.
The driver door opens and closes yet again. There’s chatter outside, excitement clear in the voices that Danny hears. There’s lots of talk of “congratulations,” and “lucky that the Bat didn’t follow you here.”
Then, the back of the truck is opened. Danny hears noises of confusion and shock. He turns his head, looking to see what’s happened.
There’s several men at the door of the truck. They’re wearing black tuxedo suits—Sam was right, black really is such a pretty color—and they’re staring at him.
They begin talking among themselves. Something about them not knowing about a kid, and not knowing what to tell the boss. It’s confusing to him. It’s not what he usually hears spoken.
Then, one of them climbs up into the truck. He approaches Danny slowly, speaking in a calm voice. He’s asking Danny if he can stand, he realizes, asking him if he knows why he’s in the truck.
Danny just stares at the silver glint of the gun at the man’s side.
It’s a nice one, he thinks. Semi-automatic, with a few modifications to make the reloads smoother and the gunshots quieter. His fingers twitch. He’d like to poke at it a little, see if he could improve it any.
The man notices where he’s staring and curses. He takes the gun and lowers it to the floor. Danny just continues to stare.
Silver is an ugly color, he thinks. He much prefers black.
Silver is the color of stainless steel, the color of lab and surgical equipment.
He doesn’t like it much.
The man reaches out a hand and grabs Danny’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
After a moment, he sighs, and hoists Danny up, carrying him effortlessly. He hands him to one of the men outside of the truck, hopping down himself a moment later.
They’re warm, Danny realizes.
He curls further into the new man’s arms, closing his eyes. It’s nice, he thinks, being held like this. He hasn’t been held with such care in a long, long time.
The man sets him down on a crate.
After a moment Danny opens his eyes again, watching as the many black-suited people take things out of the truck. He counts the inventions in his head as they do so, beginning to rock again.
Then, a new man enters the room, and everyone freezes.
He’s congratulating them, asking them about their escape, and then he spots Danny.
Danny would very much like to be invisible right about now.
“Where did you get him?” He asks, tapping his umbrella against the floor.
“He was in the truck,” the man who carried him says, “we don’t know why.”
The stout man looks at him closely.
“How did you get into a government weapon shipment? Did someone put you in there?”
Danny nods his head. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks painfully underneath his muzzle.
“You- someone get that thing off his face,” he says. Several of the other men scurry off, probably looking for something that can break the muzzle, “can you speak?”
Danny shrugs. He tries to talk again, but it seems that his voice doesn’t want to cooperate with him. The only sound he can make is a painful, broken wheeze.
“Hey,” the man says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “if it hurts to talk, stop trying, alright? We’re gonna get that muzzle and those cuffs off, and then we’ll figure out why you were in there. You know how to write?”
Danny nods.
“Good,” the man responds.
“You two, get something to write with,” he barks to a few of the other suited men. They, too, run off.
A few people come up, carrying a bolt cutter and a few other tools with them. They make quick work of the muzzle and handcuffs, the restraints falling to the floor with a clattering sound.
Danny looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. Slowly, slowly, he brings them up to his face. Thin fingers brush up against cracked, dry lips. He’s fascinated by the sensation.
Someone brought him a mirror, he realizes.
That can’t be right, though. The person looking back at him…isn’t him. That isn’t Danny.
That face is not his face.
Their cheeks are far too thin and sunken, their eyes dull and haunting. They’re far too old as well, they look like a young adult.
Still, they move when he moves. They stare at him with a look of fascinated horror that’s far too familiar.
He brings his hand up to his head, and they follow his movements. He trails his fingers over the stitches in his head, and they do the same.
Danny tries to speak, but is cut off by a painful cough.
One of the men brings up a pencil and notepad. Slowly, shakily, Danny writes down a question.
“What year is it?”
The man who had spoken to him earlier quirked his eyebrow up. He answers, and Danny freezes in place.
“What’s wrong?”
Danny looks down at his hands again. He looks into the mirror. The stranger staring back looks horrified. They look sad. They look…like him.
Danny lets out a mournful keening sound. He curls up into himself, covering his face with his arms. Distantly, he’s aware of someone rubbing circles into his back. He cries harder, his entire body shaking.
Three years.
It’s been three years since he was captured, three years of being cut open and sewn back together. Three years of burns and cuts and chemical damage and electrical shocks.
Three years of torture.
Danny sobs, hands gripping the thin fabric of his medical gown like a lifeline. Three years.
Danny’s being lifted up again. He wraps his arms around the person holding him and wails into their shoulder. Everything is quiet.
“I’ll deal with the kid,” the man holding him says, “the rest of you, finish unpacking the truck and dump it somewhere that the Bat won’t connect to me.”
The man brings Danny through the building, still rubbing his back comfortingly. He’s humming some song that Danny doesn’t recognize, occasionally pausing to bark orders at people.
Danny’s beginning to calm down now. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is beginning to even out.
It’s been a long time since he’s felt alive enough to cry.
He feels exhausted.
Danny tries to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible, but he’s so tired, and so sad, and he’s being held, and he’s warm, and…
Danny’s eyes flutter shut.
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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months
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so love languages aren’t real. the idea that you only have one out of five ways to love someone is a falsehood. you love in every way, it depends on the person and the circumstance.
but keith gives.
keith has always given. it’s the only way he knew how to love. his mother gifted him his blade — the only love he had from her. and his father gifted him whatever he was able for as long as he had him.
keith has nothing to give. he has had nothing for as long as he can remember. he has nothing but his knife, which is not his to give.
so he just gives of himself.
constantly.
anything he has. anything he can give. his hope his love his labour his effort his care the shirt off his back the boots off his fucking feet he will give and give and give of himself. he gave his fucking lion and spot on the team the very second he thought lance needed it!
and part of that is a lack of self worth of course it is. but so much of that is an overflowing over abundance of love that is just always gushing from him. his heart has been cracked in half so many times that it just constantly bleeds from his chest always always always. everything he does is seeped with love so fucking all encompassing that he doesn’t even know how to handle it. even his most violent and angry outbursts are from a place of desperate and aching love. love for his brother love for the cause love for the unknown he fucking aches with it it tears him apart.
he cries the most. he cries so often. because it bubbles out of him. he tries with everything he has to shove it back and it has never once worked.
he was born with his heart outside of his body.
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samijey · 1 year
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You have a funny way of showing it
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giallo4ver · 2 years
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Watching people seriously ship romantically Sauron/Galadriel in the Rings of power knowing full well that he is the ORIGINAL Mansplain, Manipulate, Manslaughter and that he is manipulating the whole audience too into believing he has actual feelings and not just a thirst for power and corruption of pure souls:
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frau-kali · 2 months
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whereismyhat5678 · 3 months
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I haven’t drawn Fake Peppino in AGES
For any Fake Peppino lovers out there that I’ve disappointed I’m so sorry- 💀🙇‍♀️
And for anyone WHO HASN’T EVER SEEN me actually draw him I’M EVEN MORE SORRY 🙏🙇‍♀️🙏🙇‍♀️🙏🙇‍♀️
Now I personally don’t want newer viewers seeing my cringe ass Fake pep art but if anyone who does wanna see it- (HEADS UP FOR INTENSE BODY HORROR-) take these few links (I’m sorry I can’t scroll through my entire blog again just take some examples- 🥲):
Here, here, here, here and here.
The first one is my first ever drawing of him, I did not draw him normal- 💀
Anyways….this means have I changed how I draw him? Yes!
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Look at the silly goober!! I may draw him just like this for now however…It was fun drawing him like the slimy disaster he was but it’s fine-…It always took a bit of time to draw those 🤷‍♀️
But just for the fun of it, and for old times sake, take a body horror Fake Peppino: (Warning, it looks kinda bad- 💀)
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tennessoui · 1 year
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silly soulmate au where everyone has the first words their soulmate said to them on their body somewhere and anakin’s are “excuse me sir, your shoelaces are untied” so he walks around with his shoes untied as a way of trying to bait life into giving him his soulmate
But one day he’s like super done with it and cranky after a bad day and someone taps his shoulder while he’s waiting at a crosswalk and says “excuse me sir your shoelaces are untied” and anakin snaps “your shoelaces are untied”
and obi-wan “afraid to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known enough to be loved” kenobi says “I’m not wearing shoelaces” kinda flabbergasted because he’s spent like 30 years wearing untieable shoes so no one can ever tell him “your shoelaces are untied” only to be thwarted by a beautiful, aggressive soulmate of a stranger
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OKAY RANDOM CUTE BOWUIGI THOUGHT
I've seen lots of art of bowser giving Luigi pirahna plant bouquets very dangerous very spicy there bowser considering how nippy those pirahna can be
BUT WHAT IF
Bowser gives Luigi a bouquet/flower plant pot and the pirahnas spring to life absolutely just covering Luigi in kisses just mwamwamwamwamwa because Bowser specially raised/grew/trained them to be non hostile and affectionate which leads to overly affectionate kissy plants and Bowser going "HEY" cause that's HIM boyfriend!! Too many kisses!! Tone it down! You were meant to only make one kissy sound each! Getting very upset with his trained plants because urg too affectionate go away I wanna smooch Luigi now.
So now Luigi owns this affectionate pirhanna plant which is essentially just puppy hardwiring in plant body, they wiggle their leaves vigorously and waggle their whole stems when they see him coming like excitable puppies ready to play and the worst they'll ever so is chew on his fingers sometimes and aw his plant.
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earlgodwin · 8 months
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"One thing that I've always said about Juan is that every action that he does is heartfelt and genuine. When it was the war against the French, he was there and he was going to go to war, even though he knew he was going to die. He saw them getting ripped apart, but he was there and he was going to do it. I believe if Lucrezia hadn't come over, he would have led all his troops into death. I don't think there's anything that he's done which was through general cowardice. In terms of his survival, he died how he lived, and that's laudable, in itself." — David Oakes.
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c!Wilbur ran away in the end because he couldn’t face the realisation that despite everything that happened, c!Tommy had been there waiting for him since the day he left btw. He came back with the hope of dealing himself more pain but was met with undeserved love and that hurt him much more than anything else he could have done to himself
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eosofhearts · 1 year
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my poor little meow meow angor rot he has every disease
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numbuh424 · 4 months
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Please hear me out..... Jdrama!Light and Musical!L.
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riccissance · 3 months
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taissa is so so tragic in that she literally can’t trust herself to keep her loved ones safe even though she desperately wants to… like, whenever she realizes things she’s done while sleepwalking, all she wants to do is fix it or keep it from happening again (assuring steve she won’t hurt him like biscuit while knowing she can’t actually do anything about it)… and she tries to fight off the other part of herself to keep them safe but only ever manages to make things worse (simone ending up in the icu)…
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