#Is he a saint? Fuck no

[valhalla-awaitsfor-us]

The tragedy of succession is that everyone is a villian. Shiv and Tom drama can`t be solved by point a finger at one of the two and saying "she/he is the one on the wrong" because they are both are. They both have been horrible people to each other. Putting the blame in just one goes against what the show wants to say.

[blue-jos10]

‘wow dr minyard how are you so calm and patient even with the insane ones?’

‘i’ve had practice.’

[robinwithay]

i'm still thinking about how aziraphale is the strongest entity in the entire universe for not just climbing into crowley's lap or sinking to his knees between his legs when he did THIS

[fairylando]

lord please take all the hate given to lando, double it and give it to the piquet family and associates. and christian horner.

[morganbritton132]

Dustin posts a series of videos on his Tiktok account of his time babysitting Steve and Eddie while they’re sick. He claims it’s evidence because no one would believe that two grown men act like this.

The first video he posts is literally just him asking why they are in the living room and not in bed anymore. Eddie says that he didn’t want to be alone and Steve grumbles something about this being his house, Dustin can’t tell him what to do. Dustin just sighs, “I’m glad we’re going to be mature about this.”

In the second video, Steve is throwing the pillows off the couch in search of his glasses. Eddie’s in a blanket burrito on the floor, throwing out suggestions. None of with are ‘hanging off your shirt’ with is where Steve’s glasses are.

He post one later in the day of Eddie bitching about how he can’t even walk up the stairs without needing to use his inhaler despite the fact that he doesn’t need to walk up the stairs at all. Steve is snoring so goddamn loud in the background of this one.

He post one where he and Eddie are trying to take Steve’s temperature while he’s asleep. They fail. He wakes up and he’s pissed off. He also has a fever.

Dustin post a video of the absolute death glare Steve gives Eddie the entire time Diane is reheating the soup she made for them in the kitchen.

In a different one, Eddie suggests they ‘screw the sickness away.’ Steve with his head in his hands says ‘that has literally never worked.’ Dustin tells them to knock it off or he’ll leave for real this time.

In a different video, Eddie walks into the room and sees Ozzy laying on Steve like he does when Steve’s had a seizure and tries to get up before he should. But that context isn’t known to the wider world so it looks like Eddie walks into the room and says ‘I took a shower,’ frowned, and then said ‘oh no.’

He post one of Eddie and Steve asleep with the caption ‘thank god’ and then another when he’s leaving for the day and they’re both upset that he doesn’t want to hang out with them. He ends it with, “It’s literally been a nightmare, guys.”

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[zarnzarn]

part three of the reverse odyssey au! polites' pov this time, cause I thought a constantly changing motive explanation would be fun

1/2/3/4

||

Later, they find that it is the prayer of a terrified Elepnor clinging to the mast that saved them.

He'd called out in fear in the prayer he'd heard the most, growing from a boy of ten to a youth of twenty in the Trojan War, under Odysseus and his quick, odd prayers to his patron goddess- and half-surprised, half out of reflex, Polites had thought later by the look on the goddesses' own face-

Athena had answered.

She'd guided their ship to shore through the storm, somehow, and then stood at the wheel, taller than anyone Polites had ever seen, straight-backed and proud. Staring at them all as they slowly got to their feet, bowing and muttering prayers under their breath as they prostrated, more than half of them trembling in fear.

They'd all known their captain was blessed by the Goddess of Wisdom, in a way that was more than a mere touch or grey eyes. All known the way he'd sometimes stop talking and stare into the distance, and bark out orders for a convoluted, twisted, wonderful plan after.

Polites had known it was something more the day his friend had stumbled out of the forest all those years ago, silent as an owl and grin sharper than it used to be. Eyes no longer Hermes' kaleidoscope-amber ones that hurt to look at, but a gleaming silver that struck you still where you stood to listen.

But this was still more terrifying than any battle they'd ever faced.

(He saw so much of Odysseus in her, even standing still, that it hurt.

They had been so close.)

"Owl Lady!" Telemachus cheers, and runs out from behind his mother's skirts to the Goddess of War. Penelope makes an aborted movement towards him, dredging up some mortification beyond the haunted expression on her face (if only they'd had one moment more, to grab each other's hands even a little, if she'd just grabbed at him tightly, if they hadn't forgotten to get rid of that accused windbag-) at the way Telemachus runs to Athena with even less fear than his father had, grinning wide up at her as he hugs her shins in greeting.

"Telemachus," She says, bemused and fond. Her voice is... familiar, actually. Polites can't place it for a second, until Penelope makes an odd choking sound next to him and memory assaults- of Odysseus running around shouting with joy after his son's birth, proudly showing him off to everyone around as if he looked anything more than a raisin, Penelope tiredly laughing as she lay against the pillows. Of him suddenly pausing and turning to the strange cloaked woman in the corner and dragging her out into the light to gently hand her his son.

"Odysseus," she'd hissed, sounding panicked, yet he'd just laughed and shifted her hands to support Telemachus' head. Polites and Penelope had frowned at each other, confused, but Odysseus had only teased the woman about a newborn baby being the thing to scare her and offered them no explanations, and what the fuck, that had been Athena.

Penelope's eye twitches a little bit, some of the heartbreak clearing up in her face in favour of a strong wish for strangulation. Polites empathized. What was wrong with Odysseus.

She stares at them now, expectant, and Polites realises what she's waiting for the same moment her lips curl into a sneer of rage. Shit, right, she and Odysseus had had some sort of falling out after the cyclops-

"So," She says, dangerously low. "Does the King of Ithaca think himself more powerful than the Goddess of Wisdom, that he spurns my presence in such a way? Or-"

"He's been taken by Poseidon."

Polites doesn't know the words come from him until Athena swivels her head around to face him.

Oh fuck.

He takes a shuddering breath as he pushes himself to his feet. Glances out to the side and feels his heart drop at the unfamiliar waters, so far away from-

He turns back to Athena and gathers his courage. "Poseidon appeared before us, one year ago. Demanded reparations for the hurt we dealt to the cyclops, his son."

"So then why target-" Athena cuts herself off, teeth gnashing. Her hair starts rising, even though there's no breeze, feathers appearing across her visible skin. "I had rescinded my blessings from him! For this very reason, so Poseidon wouldn't-"

She stops talking with a hiss, pinching the bridge of her nose in barely contained fury. Polites' breath catches. She'd taken her blessings back- to protect Odysseus, of course, her feud with Poseidon was well-known to everyone and anyone, so the ocean god wouldn't take it out on her favoured.

Did Odysseus know that, Polites wants to ask her, remembering the absolute mourning devastation on his friend's face for that one day before it all went to shit, but knows it won't help anyone.

He swallows and continues. This part is going to anger her beyond anything, he knows. "Poseidon cursed him into a creature of the sea," He says cautiously, watching strange colors dance across her armour in her growing anger, looking less and less like a woman as he spoke, eyes glowing fire-hot. "His legs melted and turned into the tail of a fish, and he no longer could breathe above land, so we had to put him in the sea. And-"

His throat closes up, and the sailors around wince back, gathering Telemachus and pulling each other away from the wheel, knowing what's about to come.

"And?" Athena says, deceptively calm, as she watches them stumble away from her.

Polites gulps and feels tears run down his face as he says it. "And he ripped out his tongue."

Athena screams.

||

After they've all wiped the blood from their ears and eyes and huddled down in the belly of the ship, holding onto each other until they've stopped trembling-

They're going to write songs about that scream, Polites thinks vaguely, staring up at the wood. His hands still are shaking. The rage of Athena will be recorded for the ages, in songs and poems and books.

Still, he can't bring up any secret resentment against her for nearly killing them- he felt the same, that first day, when he'd found the bloody tongue on the deck and had vomited over the side of the ship, sobbing.

Odysseus, his silver-tongued friend, wisest of the Greeks, able to talk his way out of anything, tongueless. An unimaginable cruelty, especially to the favourite of Athena.

Although, that was probably why, wasn't it.

They all stiffen as the door creaks and Athena ducks to walk inside. Someone whimpers. Polites doesn't blame him.

She looks at them with Odysseus' eyes, staring around at them once more with a blank expression.

"The continuation of this quest will ruin your kingdom," She says simply, and Polites barely holds back five different protests that will get them all killed.

Penelope stands up, walking to the front. "I will not abandon my husband." She raises her chin, meeting the Goddesses' gaze without fear. "Not ever."

Athena rolls her eyes. Eurylochus chokes, and Polites has to hold back some hysterical mix of a laugh and bursting into tears. Gods, she acts just like him.

"I did not expect you to," She says dryly. "But it will take years, and you can't expect Ithaca to finance your search for that long without a ruler."

Penelope's expression wavers, voice cracking to a whisper. "Years?"

Athena looks remorseful at least when she nods. "Years," She says kindly. Someone puts their head into their hands, but Polites can't tell who, because his vision is blurring out with tears. "He has been blown to the far eastern shores, where the sands stretch over a land a thousand times the size of Sparta. It will take a year alone for him to make it back to the ocean, and Poseidon will fight to keep him away from you all. And by then-"

She closes her eyes and purses her lips, swaying back like someone has dealt her a physical blow. "By then," she continues, steeling herself back to untouchable Goddess. "He will have been of the wild waters for so long that he will be little more than an animal. You will have to catch him, with nets and boats and ropes- and then find a way to bring him back to normal."

They are silent for a while.

"So be it," Eurylochus says, standing up and placing a hand on Penelope's shoulder. He nods to the Goddess, even though he's close enough that Polites can feel him shaking to do it. "What would you counsel us to do for Ithaca in the meantime, Goddess?"

"Ctimene has an equal claim to the throne, as does Penelope," Athena muses. Polites starts and feels the men murmur. Still, who would argue with-

"How will Ctimene rule, though?" Someone pipes up. Nevermind, then. Clearly, Odysseus took everyone's common sense with him when he was rolled off the side of the ship.

Eurylochus snorts before Athena can answer, turning around with a wry smile. "Odysseus may have won us the Trojan War," he tells the lackwitted man. "But never has he once won a single fucking fight with his sister in all the time I've known them. She is a terrifying woman."

Polites feels a laugh slip from him before he can stop it. "She's your wife."

Eurylochus nods grimly. "And I am scared."

"She is rather... shrill." Athena agrees, mouth curling in distaste. "Still, she and you can rule when Penelope is on the waters and the kingdom will not suffer for it. But you cannot both abandon Ithaca to possible invaders."

Penelope sobs and quickly tries to muffle it with a hand, screwing her eyes closed. Polites puts his hand on hers, trying to be reassuring even though his own chest aches. Years.

They will do it, he knows. But still.

"You will find food to eat on these shores," Athena says, turning around. "Ithaca is twelve days west from here."

"Where are you going?" Telemachus pipes up.

A smile props up on Athena's face, small and lacking joy. Cunning and cruel. She still feels so much like Odysseus. "I was dealt a great insult," She tells the child. "And I must return my reply to it."

When they set out the next morning, all the fish in the waters are floating at the surface, dead.

[foursaints]

marauders fandom is so funny conceptually like. i’m so attached to barty crouch jr but specifically the version of him from my head and not anybody else’s. i can’t even be like “i want him so bad but that man is pixels” because he’s not even pixels at this point….. he is neurons. bro is a figment of my imagination

[coldflash-corner]

Barry probably has showed up so often to Saints and Sinners to talk to Snart, debate with him, ask for help, etc. (with a complete absence of the fear anyone else would have) that it's basically common knowledge that Cold has a boyfriend that will show up and scold him like a Missus

[roadstostray]

what about a little cujo

[cath-lic]

HAPPY FEAST DAY OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI!!! be weird, queer, and kind to animals today (and every day) ❤️

[mizukamiyaseiryu]

when your past life is cringe

[popfizzles]

Mac and Smith don't really talk too openly, especially not about shit like the kinds of people they date.

Some things hit Mac a little hard, though. Smith does his best to help, in his own ways.

[onestellarghost]

she gave you her heart so just eat it already

[eightspringdays]

People who infantilize autistic coded characters are the weakest link in society's chain.

How are you gonna look at this mf

And then tell me he's too uwu to do anything. Open your eyes, expand your brain; he thinks of the MCnasty too. Let him say fuck !!!!

[shizunitis]

honestly I think Bingqiu is the most raw and fierce romance compared to Wangxian and Hualian. Like honestly I think Binghe is perhaps the most human romantic of them all.

imagine your shizun dies. imagine he dies in your arms to protect you. imagine you love him so much you would have destroyed the world to bring him to your side and he dies to save you. imagine your shizun loves you so much, has so much goodness in his heart, all for you, that he gives his life to help you in a moment of crisis. imagine you hold onto him and finally confess your love and anger for him as you should have done the moment you saw him again, all pretenses dropped, and he’s dead.

imagine your shizun is now a corpse, and you take care of him every single day, and you exhaust yourself for him, and then he comes back. and when he comes back, there are so many other things he cares about. you don’t give a shit about them. you just want him by your side. imagine you did all of that. not to repent, but to bring him back.

and he leaves. he asks you to leave, even. you! who’s waited for five years for him to come back to you! he asks that you don’t follow him. he asks that you be patient. that you be smart, that you prioritise, that you wait!

after you’ve had your whole life scrutinised and your very existence scorned by the highest people in the cultivation world, after the very act of your birth was cursed, shizun leaves, again. imagine that happened after you’d tried to help the very people who hate you, all for shizun. imagine shizun asks you to leave after all that, and the next time you two meet, he sends you away, and when you hang back, you hear him laugh with others.

imagine, then, that you break down under the weight of it all, and hurt him again. and then imagine shizun wakes up, and comes to chastise you for not waiting by his side.

i would’ve started sobbing with snot and kicking my feet like a toddler during a tantrum. how binghe kept himself from doing that before maigu ridge will forever astound me

[fairylando]

the lando hate is so forced it's getting so old so quickly. even if he loses the championship, he did one hell of a job this year. what happened today was genuinely exhausting just to watch it can't even fathom what it was like to live it.

even worse for him with the added pression of being the first contender for the win, for the championship and an ugly weekend behind him? with a team that still doesn't give him the full trust after 6 years.

i got mad at the sky sports italia commentators too for this because actually what the fuck? just because he's lando he can't do mistakes??? the first year ever since when he's been in formula 1 where he has an actual competitive car, and he can't even try and aim for something because he's lando and he's underserving of it?

says who exactly?

you all love to preach that these drivers are humans with feelings, that their mental health matters, that you shouldn't wish them ill... not when it's him tho. you all scream that he's not fit to be an f1 champion... and then accuse him of being arrogant and selfish. 🫥 pick a version already.