#it’s going to be earth shattering

[peterth3parker]

all i know is that if steve dies and they spin it through a bullshit stancy lens, i will go rabid

[editing-tips69]

i swear this video is gonna be called "PHAN IS REAL!!" or some shit and then they'll just read out the theories without actually providing any new information or context

[shyshitter]

not apologizing for who im about to become after the pjo show airs. if they wanted me to be normal they shouldn’t have rebooted it.

[simplydnp]

Speaking of videos in the story, I think the one in the bottom left is Something we want to tell you

ohmygod youre so fucking right

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[hayden-christensen]

didn’t know that hayden dropped out of the audition process for anakin at one point bc they asked them to pay for their own travel to LA and he didn’t know if he could justify the costs bc he thought there was no way he was gonna get the part but then they asked him back like WHAT?????

[tetrilys]

YO WTF NOBLE SIX DIES????? THAT WAS MY HELMET AT THE BEGINNING?????  (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ I AM UNWELL!!!!!!!

[beanghostprincess]

I hc Sanji as being afraid of the dark bc of his trauma too.

I know Mosshead wouldn't tease him about it if he knew the reason behind it, but do you think he ever teased him about it BEFORE finding out why he's scared?

Yeah, obviously. I think Sanji would not talk about it explicitly but he'd try to make up excuses for them to just keep a light on or for him to sleep in the kitchen instead of the boys' quarters. And it's quite obvious that he doesn't like the dark much (that's how he says it but actually he's extremely scared of it and often has nightmares/panic attacks when it's too dark and quiet) so Zoro makes fun of it. I mean- To Zoro it's such a ridiculous fear to have and I'm pretty sure he'd make fun of that. Sanji would fight back but he wouldn't show (at least the first times they fight for this) that he's actually hurt by that. I think one day, for random reasons, Sanji has to deal with being locked in a dark place, and he has the worst time of his life. Maybe it's a bet or some shit like that and because Sanji is too proud he doesn't say no to Zoro, and he's scared but he doesn't want mosshead to know he's afraid. Yadda yadda. Things go terribly wrong and after they've taken care of a very shaken up and anxious Sanji, Zoro says he's a fucking moron and that he should've said this earlier, but of course, Sanji is like "yeah, and have you laughing at me again? No, thank you, I already have enough with this, marimo". Zoro would genuinely feel bad but he knows that no matter how many times he apologizes, Sanji is just going to blame himself. So Zoro throws some poetic bullshit like "fear isn't something to be ashamed of. And you have to fight against it every day, don't be so stupid and stop blaming yourself for shit like this" (poetic more or less, kind of). And they'd just understand each other then.

Also, to make it romantic because I am like this always: Sanji doesn't like sleeping in the kitchen either because it's uncomfortable and lonely and Zoro knows, so he just kind of forces Sanji to stop being so proud and sleep with him if that will make him feel safer. And Sanji is like "??????? no, no. What the fuck are you saying now, mosshead??? The only people I'm sleeping with are pretty girls-" / "You fucking wish. Why does it have to mean anything, anyway? You're so dramatic" and Zoro ends up holding Sanji like a big pillow so he doesn't escape and turns out that's, like, the best sleep he's ever had. It's either that or Zoro sleeps in the kitchen too with him without giving any sort of explanation and Sanji (<- idiot with a crush he won't accept) is literally dying.

[sillayobjects]

belly rubbing a hater

[general-grey]

so.... who was gonna tell me that Lucio's masquerade costume was based on Raoul (phantom of the opera)'s masquerade costume

[holisticdirkmuppet]

UPDATE feeling afraid is very good and you should go and see it but also I GOT TO MEET SAM AND HE'S THE LOVELIEST PERSON EVER AND I'M STILL IN SHOCK

(and i also bumped into @holistic-midnight-snow who was lovely company outside the stage door)

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

aau rework version of the overload/boss fight where it actually has consequences and bearing on the character dynamics save me,, save me aau rework,,,,

[kacievvbbbb]

The thing is that Dean and his abandonment issues wants Castiel to stay, despite the fuck ups and the blame and the anger, he needs him to stay as proof that he’s not toxic that he can have good things and not break them

But Castiel, and his guilt chose to leave because that is his penance. Why does he deserve to be happy when he has caused so much suffering? How can he look at Dean smile at him when he’s fucked up so much? He needs to leave because how could he be around Dean like he isn’t a living monument to all the ways his fuck ups hurt the ones he loves.

Cas wants to help the brothers, so he leaves. He’s caused them so much pain what right does he have to be around them, when he can be out there getting them information, finding things they need, helping fix their problems. This is his penance. Because no matter how hard he rebelled or how far he fell Castiel has an innate, almost primal need to be holy, to be absolved of his mistakes and sins. And he’s made so many mistakes where else can he find penance but in misery?

And in almost every episode Dean is in some way or form asking Castiel if he'll stay this time, and every-time Cas says no. And Dean can be mean, he’s s a deeply angry man, and so every no seems like proof that he’s pushed him to far that this is it this is when Cas says he's had enough. He's not gonna stay and be screamed or laughed at anymore. Dean’s finally succeeded in driving him away as he does anyone that’s ever given a damn about him. That this is proof of how toxic he is; after all Castiel is a creature with wings, all he wants to do is fly, and here Dean is trying to keep him in a cage.

The more Cas leaves on his own, the more Dean feels the need to give him a reason too.

The ways in which we punish ourselves; depriving ourselves of the ways in which we love.

The narrative’s doomed them from the start.

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[inversionimpulse]

There's something I kind of feel like I'm constantly going insane about.

紅, although it does not exclusively refer to the colour scarlet, is commonly associated with the Scarlet sisters in Touhou, EG in what's usually translated as "Scarlet Devil Mansion" (紅魔館) and "The Eternally Young Scarlet Moon" (永遠の紅い幼き月), and the two-part Japanese-English titles that Touhou is fond of usually implicitly translate it as "scarlet", EG in "紅色の境 ～ Scarlet Land" (where the English half of the title appears to be a translation of the Japanese half) or "紅魔郷　～ the Embodiment of Scarlet Devil" (where the English half appears to be a variation on/mutation of the Japanese half).

It's also the character used for the name Hong in Hong Meiling (紅美鈴). Meiling's family name is almost literally Scarlet.

But I think I've only ever seen fanworks play with even the smallest of the potential implications of that once or twice, which makes me feel like I'm clutching at straws, drawing a line between dots that everybody but me can see are not actually connected. But it's right there, right? I'm not going insane, right?

[milimeters-morales]

Miles like 95% of the time: i should be taken seriously way more often, i’ve been through a lot and learned a ton from these things i’ve gone through. There are times where I wanted to give up, and I did, but I came back with a better sense of self. I’ve gotten better control over my powers as well, and accepted that things won’t always work out, and how to make the best out of those situations. I’ve learned that not everything has to be black and white. Also i’ve helped save the world a few times

Miles that other 5%: (annoying orange accent) hey! hey! hey Misty Knight! hey! hey Misty Knight!