#bircjosta

[afro-elf]

I never noticed how much people describe shows like AO3 tags and I don’t think I can ever accept that method of trying to pitch me a show ever again.

it truly is Unacceptable

[leolaroot]

May I please get a peach redesign? 🍑

HOLLY! you KNOW i was ready for a peach redesign!!! <3

peach redesign

peaches are berries now!!!! i want them to be small berries, about an inch in diameter. same flavor bc HOW would we improve on perfection??? now, however, they dont have the furry texture, and no pits. instead, the berries are small clouds of flavor! it’s a very incredibly dense cloud, and has a slight cooling effect in the mouth. the berry is kept safe in a cage made of very thin crack sugar! it’s similar to the chinese lantern plant that forms a similar structure around its own berries. 

[keplercryptids]

I have a little bunny that I sleep with still. I had him since I was born, we grew up together he’s my family. I’ve been really lucky to be around people that don’t make fun of me for bringing him on trips and vacations and stuff but there was one time I was on a retreat and this girl was like “you sleep with a stuffed animal?!?!” And I’m like wow die. She wanted to be a mental healthcare worker but didn’t know the first thing about comfort items smh.

wow wtf?? i've been lucky too in that i don't think anyone's cared since I was 12 or so. fellow adults are just like "oh that's normal" or "I sleep with a stuffed animal too." because yeah, it's super normal! I am emotionally attached to an object that I got emotionally attached to as part of normal-ass development lol

[sunfortune]

God’s Own Country is trash

i watched it last year bc everyone kept saying how cute it was and it had a high ass rotten tomatoes score too. and literally i can not believe they all just lied with their chest like that, its such an entire MESS. the british guy did not deserve one single right

[ladygrit]

I’m going to flamecon on Saturday and I’m going in an IPRE era Lucretia cosplay would you like to see it when the time comes?

dude fuck yeah i would! please show me :))

[tazpoc]

Re: fetishizing Aubrey, a friend of mine brought this up but he was telling me that Travis specifically says that Aubrey dresses in a way that isn’t informed by male expectations. But all I see (not so much now, but in the beginning of amnesty) there was A LOT of art of her in super tight super leathery/sexy outfits. It makes me uncomfortable because people seem to think of her as a dress up doll and nothing else

Pretty much! I haven’t listened to the early episodes in awhile or maybe he said it at a con, either way this all sounds like something Travis would say. We should respect him and Aubrey and not sexualize Aubrey! I think especially when she’s a wlw there was… a troubling pattern when it came to drawing her and it’s something to be aware of, moreso now that we know she’s a woc.

[elftwink]

I’m curious about your Leo Valdez beef!

oh boy okay 

why on god’s green earth did we all have to sit through that weird love triangle thing with frank and hazel that offered pretty much zero character development for anyone which was SO disappointing because it was set up so well. the end of the son of neptune where hazel recognizes leo and you learn more about her past and get the distinct sense this will immediately and drastically change the group dynamic??? SO neat. the actual plot of the rest of the series??? ehhhhh. the leo/sammy thing is resolved relatively quickly, there isn’t nearly enough focus on hazel during it considering it’s her relationship, and then it just sort of... stops. 

frank and leo could have had one of the most complex and nuanced in the entire series if played right (again with the really good setup with the fire powers vs death via fire thing, followed by next to no payoff) but they hardly interacted outside of the aforementioned love triangle and the most either of them ever expressed to each other was like. vague annoyance. for 90% of the series. why.

the super sized mcshizzle thing was an elaborate plan and not an accurate reflection of leo’s character like he was mildly self aggrandizing before but always as a joke or a defense mechanism (and also only ever in relation to his talents that he had and was proud of) and it feels like?? rick forgot???? that it was a joke??? and just assumed that he was that sincerely arrogant?? this one’s also partly fandom tho like you would see people characterize leo as this very suave arrogant womanizer who only talked about how great he was and how everyone loved him and you’d be like........ who is that......

the thing with calypso butchered her character so fucking bad and also was just... a bizarre and abrupt ending to leo’s character arc. because a lot of his arc was about romance and how he felt about it and on a larger scale how it affected his ability to belong in the group as a whole and how he constantly felt like the odd one out and it could have GONE SOMEWHERE then at the end rick was like “anyway here’s this random girl for you to get with who shares a name and basically nothing else with a character in the last series, now you never have to deal with that whole seventh wheel thing ever again” like where is my closure rick??? where is it????

i think this rings true for a lot of characters though it felt like very few of them got a satisfying ending to their arcs. the story always felt spread a little thin and sometimes the conclusions would just outright contradict earlier setup (like how will claims nico was always welcome at camp when we just all straight up know that’s not true), or leave way too many loose ends (reyna’s whole ‘no demigod will heal your heart’ [paraphrased] thing which... seemed weirdly specific in a way that the story has told us before means the wording is important because that’s how prophecy WORKS here and then it just was... dropped off the map a little???)

this ones just a projection i am Sure but also leo’s whole seventh wheel romance related self doubt would have been very good set up for him to discover and come to terms with being bisexual and @ rick i know you can do it. i see what you did for nico di angelo and i want that for leo. except without the forced coming out that was bad don’t ever do that again thank you

this one’s milder but while i do think the dying and coming back plan was good i would have liked to see the consequences of that on leo and his friends in hoo and i also would have liked to not have the implication that taking calypso to disneyland was higher priority than talking to his BEST FRIENDS who thought he DIED it honestly just felt like he pulled that risky move and literally nothing came of it whatsoever it was a very neat “the hero gets the girl” wrap-up that felt honestly cheap and it could have be solved by having. one single final scene where leo goes back to chb and has to face his friends.

idk it was like.... the setup was always sick as hell and leo valdez is my favourite character still but it just always fell short of what i felt could have been and i’m. mad about it still. 

anyway these are obviously all subjective and i think some of it was just that there were SO many characters in hoo that it was hard to cover all of them all the time but also don’t have nine main characters then smh

also as a disclaimer i haven’t read this series in awhile the details might be wrong but this is the general gist 

[lichlover]

Here’s a prompt. Post-story and song, everyone is sitting around talking about birthdays, and angus says he never really had a good one. So taako, being the best dad ever, throws angus a huge party and he loves it and loves his giant weird family even more

please consider donating to my ko-fi!

“Y’know what must’ve sucked?” says Taako. “Being born on Story and Song.”

He’s nestled comfortably in Kravitz’s lap, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other balancing a half-empty cocktail. His glass isn’t the only one that looks like it’s about to be in need of refilling. Lup is about to reach the bottom of hers, and sitting against her, Barry holds a drink that glows eerily whenever he so much as shifts his grip. Magnus is the only one who’s drinking something Angus actually recognizes. His tabard of ale borders on the stereotypical, threatening to overflow with foam and making him red in the face, despite his insistence that he’s completely sober because “C’mon, you guys, I’d never get drunk in front of a kid!”

As if the man could convince anyone his tabard is brimming with a Shirley Temple.

But tonight isn’t about calling Magnus out on his bullshit. It’s about coming down from the aftermath and escaping from the world. They’re all sitting in the Bureau’s Reclaimer suite, because reporters haven’t quite figured out a way to get to the moon just yet, and it serves as their sanctuary away from the glitz and bright lights of fame. Angus, who has reached adolescence in theory but not in practice, appreciates the opportunity for a breather. The most recognition he’d received for his detective work had been a medal from the odd mayor or two; the rare commendation from a police commissioner. Garnering a worldwide fanbase—well, it should go without saying, but that’s another thing altogether.

As much as the Birds make a show of revelling in stardom (particularly Taako, who insists it’s his birthright), Angus can tell they’re feeling as relieved as he is. Why else would they be drinking like their lives depend on it?

Speaking of which. His mentor takes another gulp, effectively draining the cocktail, and goes on. “What the hell are you s’posed to do when your birthday is the fuckin’—fuckin’, when-the-world-got-saved day? You think anybody’s gonna pay attention to you then? Nah, they’re too—too busy gettin’ smashed and partying in the streets to worry about little Timmy or whatever, over there with—with a pair of commemorative socks, or whatever. Lame.”

“I thought you didn’t like birthdays,” Magnus points out.

“I don’t. They’re a big fuckin’ inconvenience. I’m makin’ conver—conversa—” Taako rolls his eyes and nudges Kravitz’s shoulder. “What’s the—?”

“Conversation,” his boyfriend provides, patiently. It had, admittedly, taken Angus some time to get over the man’s Grim Reaper status, because there is no amount of logic and common sense that keeps a child from feeling uneasy in the presence of death. But Kravitz, for all his awkward, outdated mannerisms and omnipresent exasperation, is a good man. He loves Taako, Angus knows; even if the L-word is something both of them insist on dancing around like they’re doing a quickstep on hot coals. And he’s kind to Taako’s family and everyone he cares about. Angus approves.

Taako reaches out to set his glass on the side table, misses, and lets it drop harmlessly to the carpet. “Yeah. That. Who even celebrates birthdays anymore?”

A murmur of consensus ripples over the room, and Angus readjusts his hold on the hot chocolate nestled in his hands. “Right!” he says, breaking into the conversation with a tentative smile. “They’re not a big deal, right?”

Fourteen pairs of eyes settle on him instantaneously. Despite the fact that he’s never known such a thing, Angus imagines it’s to the effect of fourteen parents staring him down. He isn’t a huge fan of it. “What?” he says, and takes a nervous sip of his hot chocolate because there’s nothing else to fill the silence. “What is it?”

“Ango,” says Magnus, in the tone of voice he uses when one of the Hammer and Tails’ dogs has wandered off. “Tell me you’ve had a birthday party.”

“Even a weird kid like you’s gotta have at least one of ’em under his belt,” Merle interjects. “Right?”

The discomfort in Angus’s expression is reaching Kravitz levels of obvious. “Uh… no? I mean, I got presents from my grandpa when he could afford it, but most of the time we just—”

“Okay,” Taako interrupts. “This is ridiculous.”

He gets up from Kravitz’s lap, which looks a bit like a spider unfolding its tangled limbs, and sways precariously on his feet before he regains his balance. “You dipshits know what we gotta do now.”

Magnus is already perked up. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sorry,” says Angus, “what are we doing?”

Taako levels a finger at him. He’s actually pointing at something just over Angus’s shoulder, but the sentiment is there nonetheless.

“We’re givin’ you the fuckin’ birthday party of a lifetime,” he says. “And you’re—you’ll never see it coming.”

Angus does see it coming.

For one, he catches Magnus creeping toward the residential dome with a crate full of fireworks. To his credit, Magnus stays mostly poker-faced as he explains that he’s gathering explosives for one of Lup’s post-regenerative experiments. He’s so taciturn that Angus doesn’t have the heart to say anything about it.

For another, the Reclaimer suite’s availability evaporates into thin air. The Birds hem and haw and claim it’s an administrative decision, and Angus nods and politely agrees because he really is touched by the amount of effort that’s going into keeping him out of the loop. They even put up caution tape—RENOVATIONS IN PROGRESS! it says. He assumes it’s a clever means of explaining away the occasional drilling, grating, and scraping sounds he can make out behind the door.

They do the best they can to keep him away from it. Lup and Barry invite Angus to their lab for a day, which granted is a privilege Angus can’t bear to pass up, so he goes and learns an inordinate amount about something that is definitely not necromancy, especially if Kravitz asks. Davenport takes him sailing, and Angus learns how to steer a ship with confidence, even if he can’t quite keep up with the captain’s rapid fire nautical-speak. He leads his first seminar at Taako’s Amazing School of Magic. The students snicker until Angus politely but ruthlessly shoots down their proposals for new spells, and suddenly their young professor is deserving of significantly more respect.

He’s out on the lawn one day, practicing some spells of his own, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Angus jumps and almost loses his footing on the artificial grass, and the Director—Lucretia—winces and jerks back. “Sh—sorry,” she stammers. “I knew sneaking up on you was a bad idea, and… well, funny thing, I just did it anyway.”

She looks different, he thinks, especially now that he knows how young she used to be. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced—she’s been working day and night to kickstart the newly established Bureau of Benevolence and, Angus suspects, to avoid confrontation with the Birds. Even Magnus, who’s forgiven her unconditionally, seems a little touchy when Lucretia’s name is mentioned. Angus doesn’t blame her for wanting to stay away.

“Hello, ma’am!” he says, because he hasn’t quite figured out how he feels about Lucretia’s decision, but he knows she’s a good person, and there’s no reason why he can’t spare her some common courtesy. “Can I, uh… can I help you with something?”

Lucretia balks a little at that, and her hand tightens almost imperceptibly around her new staff. It’s considerably simpler than the Bulwark Staff; made out of smooth, elegantly polished red wood with a subtle gloss. The tiny outline of a duck sits at its base—a Burnsides Original. “Oh. Um—mind if I sit?”

Angus doesn’t. She lowers herself to the grass, and he sits cross-legged beside her and looks through the transparent dome overhead as she situates herself. The sky is pale and bright, starting to fade with the gradual advance of evening, and the shadows around them grow longer as the sun sinks toward the horizon.

It’s a lonely hour of the day, he thinks.

Lucretia looks over and smiles faintly. “You know about the birthday party, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Angus, truthfully.

Her shoulders slump as she breathes out a small sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. I realized as soon as I said it that if you didn’t know, I’d be spoiling the surprise, and… well.” She shakes her head. “I should have known, anyway. You’re too smart to be caught off guard like that.”

“Well, ma’am, I am the World’s Greatest Detective!”

“That you are.” Lucretia’s smile returns, softer; lacking the weariness he’s so accustomed to seeing. “Anyway, I, uh… I’m not going to be there, because—”

It isn’t polite to interrupt, but Angus wants to spare her the agony of explaining. “I know,” he says.

Something like gratitude shimmers briefly in Lucretia’s eyes before she continues. “I just wanted to give you this.”

She reaches into the folds of her robe and produces a parcel, neatly wrapped in holographic paper and topped with a tiny bow. Angus takes it, and she nods encouragingly at him. “Open it.”

He does. It’s a journal—the cover is a deep, vibrant blue inlaid with white thread, which glimmers subtly when he tips it from side to side. Angus thumbs over the creamy paper and cradles the cover in his palms, and as he does so, it falls open to the first page. There, in Lucretia’s delicate calligraphy, is a message.

For your observations.Happy birthday to the smartest, bravest young man I know.

Madam Director

He looks up at her, struck dumb. “This is…”

“It’s just a little something,” says Lucretia, who looks suddenly but unmistakably shy. “I saw that little notepad of yours and I just thought you could use something a little nice—”

She breaks off when Angus hugs her. His arms, he notices, can now fit comfortably around her midriff, and the ridges of tiny ribs poke into his chest.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers.

He can feel her nod against him, and slowly, hesitantly, she returns the embrace. “Of course.”

Taako rouses him bright and early with a shower of sparks over his bed. “Up and at ’em, Agnes!” he says. “Early morning magic lesson! We’ve got work to do!”

Angus is still bleary-eyed when his mentor drags him from his dormitory on the Bureau. He stops to tap one shoe against the pavement, fitting it completely over his foot, and then he’s off again, struggling to keep pace with Taako’s long strides.

“Sir,” he says, around an inadvertent yawn. “Where are we going?”

“I just said it was a magic lesson. Keep up.”

“But,” says Angus, peering under the brim of Taako’s enormous hat, “we usually practice on the quad, and we just passed the quad.”

Taako thrusts a hand at him and practically bats his inquiry away. “Less questions, more—more walking, let’s go!”

And that’s how Angus knows.

They arrive at the Reclaimer suite not five minutes later, and sure enough, the caution tape is gone. “Just need to pick up some shit,” Taako mumbles, digging around for his keys. “Won’t take a minute, and then we’ll—we’ll be off to the races, yeah?”

Something shuffles behind the door, followed by a bit of muffled whispering. Taako looks a little bit like he wants to die, but credit where credit is due—he soldiers on, undaunted. “C’mon, kid.”

The key slides into the lock, the door swings open, and an explosion of light and sound nearly knocks Angus off his feet.

“Happy birthday, Angus!” several voices shout in unison, and then the roof explodes.

A flurry of fireworks swirl around them, and Lup’s scream of delight almost drowns out the chorus of popping and fizzing. “Look at that!” she yells. “Perfect execution! Boom! Hope you were filming that, babe, ’cuz that’s never happening again!”

Barry holds up a Lucas Miller official patented Fantasy Camcorder™. “Got it!”

Angus blinks the stars out of his eyes and looks around the room. Apart from Barry, Lup, and Taako, he spots Magnus, Davenport, Carey and Killian arm-in-arm, Ren, Avi, and Merle, with a suspiciously plant-shaped gift sitting next to him. The room is draped with fantasy fairy lights and streamers, but what catches Angus’s eye isn’t the decor, or the mountain of presents in the corner of the room. It’s a cake—mounted at the center of the room, taller than he is, with a fondant rendition of a very familiar-looking hat and magnifying glass at the top.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE! it says.

“Oh, wow,” says Angus. “This is a complete surprise. I never expected—”

“We know you knew,” says Taako.

“Oh, thank gods.” Angus drops the facade of shock, but his smile stays put—it’s wider and brighter than the plane of magic itself.

“Thank you,” he says, and can’t quite swallow back the emotional break in his voice. “Thank you guys so much.”

“Anytime, little man,” says Lup. Her hair is slightly singed, but her grin is almost as large as his. “It was our pleasure.”

“Speaking of which,” says Merle. “It is your birthday, right?”

The room goes silent.

“Shit.”

“Fuck—”

“Watch your fucking language!”

“How could nobody check, how did we miss that—”

A late firework shoots into the air, the Birds devolve into squabbling, and Angus McDonald laughs.