#fear angst

[whumpster-dumpster]

Hey, hey! Friendly reminder to make sure your supposedly “fearless” character gets their darkest fear revealed in the worst way possible so they break down into a vulnerable shaking mess in front of all the people they care about 

[ky-landfill]

[brucewaynehater101]

Fear Gas hc: Tim edition

Tim has a ton of fears and horrific memories that the fear gas can craft into nauseating tales of terror. He's seen them all: his parents dying, his friends dying, Tim becoming what he's fought against, Ra's being creepy, falling from the dinosaur, that godsdamned desert, etc.

What's the one fear that absolutely grips Tim until he's screaming, crying, and throwing up?

Jason dying again.

When the family found out about how Jason's second death petrifies Tim, they asked why Jason specifically. Tim shakily smiled and told them that Jason's first death was horrific and he never wants that to happen again. The family takes that answer. They ensure Jason is always available for Tim when he gets hit with the toxin. The only way for Tim to calm down, even after receiving the antidote, is for him to feel Jason's heartbeat.

Tim lied, though. Yes, seeing any of his siblings dying is horrific and one of his fears. Jason, though? That fear is born out of selfish necessity.

When Jason died the first time, Tim was the only one who was able to get through to Bruce. The teen loved his Robin run, but it was also extremely traumatic.

If Jason dies again and Bruce needs to be put back together, Tim would do it. Of course he would. He loves Bruce, his father. He would assist his dad and family without hesitation.

The process would kill him.

Tim fears Jason dying because he knows it would destroy his family and kill Tim as well.

[thisfilmisnotyetrated]

ANGST ESSEN SEELE AUF (dir. Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1974)

[demigods-posts]

annabeth's arachnophobia (fear of spiders) is such a serious topic that should be discussed more often. she was seven years old when spiders used to crawl into her room and torture her in the dead of the night. and ten years later, it was a spider that dragged her into the deepest pits of greek hell. you can't tell me she doesn't have night terrors about the creatures. you can't tell me she doesn't have some kind of breakdown anytime she thinks something is crawling on her.

[sarathrwizard]

Out of the Blue... Part 3

Leo? What are you doing!? Don't do that!!!

Previous <×> Next

[elitadream]

What if this was Luigi's fight all along?

[whumpypepsigal]

“Neither of us has ever been given the chance to choose anything.”

[vicartless]

Cutting his hair means letting her go.

[ghcstao3]

for a large part of his life, ghost had a fear of snakes. with his father’s abuse planting that seed in childhood and roba only amplifying it through his torture, it isn’t much of a surprise at all.

but ghost… can’t stand for that. he doesn’t want this fear to have any power, because it means his father and roba still have a hold over him, even with the both of them long since dead. so ghost starts exposing himself to snakes, bit by bit. it isn’t the creature’s fault that he’s afraid of them, so he can at least try to do something about it.

and over time, with lots of therapy to pair with that exposure—ghost actually ends up falling in love with these creatures. they become his favourite animal in getting over his fear.

now—imagine snake shifter soap. a king cobra, large, powerful, venomous. he keeps his shifter form a secret because he doesn’t want people to be unnecessarily afraid of him; they have no reason to be, unless they give him one. only price and laswell know at this point.

then he catches word of ghost and his affinity. he’s already trusting with the lieutenant, more so than he should probably be, but he is. so there isn’t much thought behind revealing himself to ghost.

ghost is the first person to not show any sign of fear at soap’s shifted form. he instead just sits with this beast of a snake, trailing gloved fingers along the smooth pattern of soap’s scales. soap has never seen his lieutenant so… mesmerized. like a kid in a candy shop.

when soap shifts back, ghost asks a few questions, seemingly subconsciously rattling off a few facts about soap’s species that, honestly, some of which soap himself had no idea about.

some of which actually make soap deadlier in the field.

that little bonding moment propels their friendship forward, though it very well would have gotten to that point without soap’s shifter status. the process is just… sped up a little.

though, the snake shifter part does come with it’s benefits for ghost. when he’s already got a reputation and totes a skull mask around, it just makes him ten times more terrifying when he’s seen walking around base with a king cobra curled around his frame.

[yuyonyu]

Love that is bound to end in tragedy

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — who also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night. even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” you exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”thanks,” he hums. crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling. 

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. almost satirical. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, jovial. hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me whatever you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face. ”guess we’re similar in that way, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that,” he drawls, smile growing. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence surrounding you. a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

(somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by the darkness, melting into the sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.)

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”.. about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement.

(geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards as one of his curses goes to pick it up. you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.)

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs in high school, after you had spent about five minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say,” you lean back, palms against the rough concrete. breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything, so you continue. voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking. a sardonic coo cast his way. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”.. no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”.. you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing at you. the promise of something, something twisted. something new. forbidden. you think of red skin, yellow flesh. the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. 

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

[ladyrijus]

TOTK where everything is more or less the same except the dragon tears are as giant as the springs that Zelda went to, and Link has to wade through them to experience the vision. On top of that, after he sees the vision in full, he can relive that vision for as long as he stays in those tears.

Now, the reason why I want that is because I want to see Link witness the final memory and turn numb with denial and guilt and grief. It should not have surprised him the way it did; he knew in the previous memories she had planned to do it. But there were still more geoglyphs to search, still more time and hope for her to realize there was a different way, a better one that didn't ask her of so much.

He was wrong, of course. Destinies like theirs were never so generous.

Imagine that he appears expressionless, a stark contrast to his more emotional nature that has come out during gameplay. And yet his eyes are noticeably glazed over and he's frozen to the bed of the spring. The sages watch him through their vows, knowing this to be the last memory, and they feel it, immediately, that something is wrong. They desperately try to talk through their avatars, much to the surprise of their loved ones.

"Link? Link, snap out of it!"

He hears nothing.

And so the scene parallels to the off-screen moment Urbosa had with Zelda -- a careful Sidon wills his avatar to carry Link away from the cursed waters, and is pained when he's met with vehement resistance. Why would his wonderful friend drag himself back there, when whatever he saw tore his heart and shattered his soul? It wasn't good for him, to deal with grief in such a poisonous manner.

But for Link, he would weather the heartbreak in watching that bright, curious, ambitious girl sacrifice everything that made her who she was infinitely if it meant he could commit her face to memory. The Sheikah Slate that he took pictures of her with had been dismantled, and the Purah Pad contains no recollection of Zelda. He would watch his princess lose herself, over and over again, in that damned tear, than forget what she looked like.

He couldn't do that to her. Not again.

In the meantime, Tulin, Riju, and Yunobo have created a circle around him together, blocking the hero from hurting himself any further.

By this point, Link's expression is wavering, brows furrowed and lips pressed to a thin line. They don't get it, do they? All of the closest friends he had from an era past are gone; yes, Impa, Purah and Robbie are still alive, and they belong to that era too, but they didn't know him like the Champions did. Like Zelda did. She fought for him in death as much as he fought for her in life, and now he lost her too.

He finally collapses to the ground, shaking, and cries.

He had one job: Protect the princess. And he failed her. Twice.

[cats-obsessions]

Anyways I’m going to get emotional if I think too much about Durge’s self talk like “wretched thing, pull yourself together”. Combined with their confessional letter to their father, fucking begging forgiveness because they feel fondness, I think it’s very clear Durge has some experience and expectations of disdain and punishment from others. They’re a wretched thing who failed their god only a little and felt fear. And some of that thought follows them even without memory. Even Balthazar wrote that Durge would have wished to die after what happend to them- all while calling Durge “it” and “thing”- “feral thing”.

And then there’s Gortash who is so happy to see them. He’s not mad. He should be mad they failed him. They failed the plan. They let their guard down and Orin got them. Sure he doesn’t intervene, how could he without destroying Durge’s chances of gaining their fathers approval again and risking his own soul and the fate of Baldurs Gate? He’s not sugarcoating what happened, but I honestly think Durge would describe it as humiliation too. I just wonder if he was the only person to offer Durge that kind of grace to not blame them or try to threaten them into compliance, to still call them an equal. He could hate them, but he doesn’t.

Durge thought of themselves as dangerous, but did they ever consider themselves worthy?

[demigods-posts]

one thing that'll always kind of bug me is how the conflict of percabeth's relationship the year percy turned fifteen goes unaddressed after they get together on his sixteenth birthday. because dude. percy has never owned his life. he's only perceived his existence a nuisance to gabe, a burden to his mother, or a plaything for the gods. so he spends the year before his sixteenth birthday avoiding everyone that reminds him of that because all he sees in the reflection of their eyes is a dead man walking. meanwhile. all annabeth has ever known is instability. first it was her father, then thalia, then luke. and the pattern continues when she falls in love with the boy who always has one foot out the door. and despite it all. she does everything in her power to ensure his permanence in her life. but is wise enough to know the odds are stacked against her. just because luke died and rachel swore off dating doesn't mean those problems stopped existing.

[sarathrwizard]

I Care. Chapter 4 (Part 1/2) (Rottmnt comic)

Splinter has come back home! Maybe he will know what to do! But with Donnies intense fever and Leos uncertain fate, this doesn't look much brighter than it did before, does it. Speaking of which, what's wrong with Leo?

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