#it was him chosing to go into battle

[percabeth4life]

All the fandom talk bout how Jupiter/Zeus saving Thalia and not Jason favoritism nonsense. I mean can you blame him? If i was Jove I'd be pretty bummed I made someone as boring as Jason

alksdjf LMAO

[millidew]

i think he deserves the therapy dinosaur

ft. lyra’s own ominous ass chikorita

[schrodingerseurydice]

odysseus the moment when, for the first time in 20 years, nobody is trying to kill him: whelp, guess it's time to kms

[hnnny]

I finished Dragon Age: Origins and it's many DLCs somewhat recently, as well as Dragon Age 2 and it's been pretty good so far. DA2 wasn't my favorite, but it did give us these sick series of Grey Warden armor sets, so I'm all for it.

I'll show my Hawke and Inquisitor some other time. I'm just very obsessed with my boy Frederick here :3

[heavensincarnate1111]

for the sake of my own mental stability i chose to not only block out the entire calypso’s island chapter in botl but also just choose to believe that the magic of the island is what really was making percy so infatuated with calypso

bc what do you MEAN calypso is prettier than aphrodite… AND HE SAID THIS THREE DAMN CHAPTERS AFTER ANNABETH KISSED HIM… AND IN THE PREVIOUS BOOK HE JUST SAID APHRODITE LOOKED LIKE ANNABETH

therefore, for the sake of my own health, i chose to believe that whoever washes up on calypso’s island is just automatically immediately “in love” with her and that’s where the challenge of staying with her or leaving the island comes from

[puppyeared]

your cotl au is giving me brainworms (positive). i wonder how things would go when/if the bishops ended up in the cult too- would they lose their memories or try to remind narinder of who he used to be?

ty for the question! only Narinder had his memories wiped, the other bishops kept their memories since they kept their ties to their crowns

the red crown was originally "loaned" to the lamb, so they were able to use its powers without fully claiming ownership. but when Narinder was defeated the crown wasn't properly passed down. As a result, its kind of a shared custody situation and the lamb cant use the crown without having Narinder nearby since its still tethered to him (hence the bodyguard/attendant role)

when the lamb recruited the other bishops, they informed them of Narinder's situation and they kind of have an understanding to keep his past a secret from him; for the bishops, if he remembers them imprisoning him it might start another war. they agree that its better this way.

[roseworth]

do you ever get pissed off thinking about something that pissed you off years ago. today i can’t stop thinking about the time that my friend got annoyed at me n some of my other friends for bringing up the times (plural) that he had sex while we were in the room. like not to victim blame but if you don’t want us talking about you having sex while we were right next to you maybe you shouldn’t have had sex while we were right next to you

[truly-quirkless]

[ @refrxctedprism || Replied for an Event starter!]

"Young Miyamotos! I must speak with you." Yagi had raised his hand as he dismissed his class. He and Fin had already spoken at length of what they were planning to do. Anyone who was too close to the situation was to be warned- and for Kage and Hikari, possibly, relocated. The risk of either being harmed (or worse, killed) was too much not to warn. "Please, stay just a few minutes."

[sighdbh]

josh not being able to survive the violent revolution is absolute bullshit that makes me mad to this day, but what even is death in an android world? if you gave him enough blue blood and had spare body parts on hand, would be able to come back?

[the-insanity-of-mojiru]

I misread “Fanart” as “Screenshot” and I don’t know how, but anyways, it’s the first fanart I’ve done of our under-appreciated girl!

[daydreamerdrew]

excerpts from “The Worn-Out Dancing Shoes” in The Complete First Edition: The Original Folk & Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm, translated and edited by Jack Zipes, and from “The Twelve Dancing Princesses” in Transformations by Anne Sexton

[mihotose]

the FISTS? i beat hades with the FISTS?

[lolottes]

And everyone is in a different romantic relationship.

Has different studies as well as odd jobs.

But the whole town, when they meet them, just says, oh boy, he has a busy life, this guy, he's everywhere, damn it. Everyone talks to them like if it was the same person without being offended by his forgetting because given how he does no posse it is normal that he is tired dead on his feet. Just to make the confusion worse.

And when the Danny's meet for the first time and start laughing about their life like it's normal as they relate to things getting more and more screwed up by accident

Or that there's some other difference in their experience like one says Dani's introduction is like in canon, one says how his Dani melted, the other says it happened later another says his Dani never came back and has no idea if she faded offscreen or not at all, another asks who is Dani, vlad ever did that or none of the clones were steady? the last is sold for having succeeded in saving all the clones.

Batfam looks at each other during all this, not knowing what to say, for certain Danny it is the happiest they have been since the member who took him had met him...

Imagine if one came here just to explore. Nothing has gone wrong in his timeline, he is now a very balanced mentally adult (maybe not physically) immortal Danny. He's the only one who feels bad. He escaped all that! Damn, he was so lucky. Bonus point if it's the one brought by Bruce himself and whispers to him THE question: Can we adopt ourselves?

Bruce: I have a number called to be sure, but I think so.

And why limit yourself to gotam: Let's put another Danny with Constantine because of an invocation that ended in adoption. why not one with the speeders that we meet because of temporal misdeeds.

Not to mention who have been hiding himself in absurd places to isolate himself but who was not empty of people at DC like Mars or under the ocean

After dinner with each batfam to bring a Danny, we have a meeting where each leaguer brings his Danny as well. Batman and his Danny look at each other between dismay, fatigue and OMG we HAVE to do something fast it might get worse! Like he might have Danny's with some bad guys (or just mix up some random civilians)

a configuration so rich in potential chaos

dp x dc prompt #15

danny escapes from his dimension to gotham after a reveal gone wrong. and an explosion at the nasty burger. and because he couldn’t deal with his parents talking about phantom. and gets dragged by cujo through a portal in the ghost zone. and runs away after being forced to seriously defend himself and hurt his parents.

five different versions of danny somehow find their way to the same gotham and befriend one of the bats. everyone is too busy trying to coax their new friend home to realize everyone else has the same kid from different dimensions with them.

[fanaroff]

Kind of continuation to this comic.

The first thing he opens his eyes to—

———

“Narinder?”

Too loud. Too bright. Too much. Even through closed eyelids and flattened ears. His head pounded behind his eyes. A rhythmic thumping so loud in his ears. A noise he was so unused to. A mortal sound.

Pain was a blinding experience when one was no longer numb to it. The One Who Waits could only huddle in one spot and cling to his own shoulders with claws he couldn’t not yet control enough to retract. He knew where he sat, but he was not going to allow the recognition to settle.

Hurt lanced across his chest, his wrists. He wanted it to stop. This was not how things were supposed to go. He’d planned for so long. How could this have happened?

Narinder chose wrong. He chose wrong. He chose the wrong vessel. His vessel who built him up, built a Temple in his name, raised devotion! His vessel who then tore him down and reduced him to this quivering mess of a new mortal.

How he wished they’d chosen to kill him instead. To have ended his millennia of suffering, not extend it further.

He chose wrong.

The physical hurt now ran in tandem with the emotional. How could they do this to him? When he saw them choose… he thought that maybe things would go right. He would be free and his vessel tucked safely in their own little heaven… but he saw them return the Red Crown to their own head. That damned Lamb!

The one he gave life to! The one he saved!

Betrayed by one he trusted so—

Now he was here. Now he was mortal. How foolish of him.

“…Narinder?” Faust’s voice was gentle, no doubt a front put on for the followers (they should be HIS) that he could hear hanging about in curiosity. (Insects to be squashed! How dare they look upon his visage and see him in this form!)

Narinder knew that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but hatred in theirs. After all, he ordered his vessel to sacrifice themself. And after all, this was not something his vessel was willing to do. Would such an ask not generate hatred in one unwilling?

Either way, the refusal… the betrayal… has generated hatred within Narinder and when he returned to strength… he would make them pay.

There was no point in putting things off.

Narinder cracked open an eye, blinking rapidly against the blinding light, prepared to see the Lamb standing before him with a weapon in hand. (They’d be foolish not to, what if he chose to attack?)

Instead, the Lamb kneeled before him (why kneel now and not then?), a bowl of water in hand and fake concern across their face. They were still covered in spots of their blood and Narinder’s ichor from their battle, fleece torn in places and wool sticking up in different directions. Yet, they were the victor and looked it. Narinder had no doubt that he looked worse.

He felt worse.

Light from the setting sun lit against Faust, brightening them in almost a halo. It would be beautiful sight… if not for the knowledge he had.

“Betrayer.” Narinder rasped. It came out wrong. He wanted it to be a hiss. A snarl. But it was a wheeze of air at best. His throat hated it. He hated it.

Faust had the gall to shake their head. They opened their mouth to speak, but Narinder beat them to it.

“Betrayer. I never should have chose you. A lamb that defiled my name. My Temple for their own!” He slowly devolved into a rant. A proper tantrum for the ages. Spitting insults that brought gasps of shock from those around them, a few being hands to weapons (garden tools at best), and yet Faust did not react.

If he had taken a moment, he would have noticed their eyes darken to sadness and a frown overtaking their features. He would have noticed the hurt. The Crown trying to get his attention that he had chosen the wrong subject for his ire. But he was understandably focused on his own.

“I wish not to see you! I wish not to be here! Kill me, Usurper! End the suffering you drag out further!” Narinder’s voice had torn by the end, quieted by the force he attempted to put behind it and sounding as if he’d been exposed to the smoke of fires for hours.

He’d begged at the end. Begged to be killed and put out of his misery. And again the Lamb ignored this.

When Narinder was done, panting harshly and lying against the ground as his body turned tired, Faust stood from their kneel and turned to a she-rabbit. They placed the bowl of water in her hands.

“Take him to a tent. I feel he would be calmer if I were not in his line of sight. Have someone come to me if he attempts to attack anyone. Make sure he drinks. Make sure he eats. Force him to if you have to, but be careful. He has not eaten in a long while.”

The she-rabbit bowed her head as Faust turned without a second look to Narinder and strode towards the Temple. His temple no longer.

Narinder could only squirm and attempt at clawing, glaring at Faust’s back as he was dragged away with the help of two other followers. Kicking and screeching, he vowed to himself that the Lamb would pay for this.

They all would pay.

— —

Quick Oneshot that may not stay canonical, or it may stay as a companion piece. The image will stay canonical as the first thing Narinder sees upon his indoctrination. For now, it’s a prompt for myself.

I plan to do the main fic series from Faust’s POV, but I wanted to play around with some of Narinder’s thoughts. I don’t know if it worked though, I have a hard time thinking how someone might react in hatred so I hope I got it close enough.

Hope you like it!

[hello-sweetheart]

Neat Freak

Steve’s parents don’t make him keep the house spotless. He really is just that clean and when Nancy tries to tell people there like “lol, sure” but she knows.

He’s a neat freak.

When she would stay over she would change into her pjs and make a small bundle of her day clothes on his desk chair, and steve would just. Fold them. Before getting in bed with her.

Doesn’t take long after for the others to realize it.

Robin thought it was just a guy thing, caring that much about their car. Scolding her for kicking her socked feet up on the dash, and leaving crumbs of toast when she had breakfast to go.

But then she visits his house the first time and Robin has never been good at using a coaster, too scatter brained to pay attention where she sets her drink down each time.

Steve, though? Without missing a beat he will move her glass to the coaster. Every time. Doesn’t even break his strike or pauses his conversation it’s just muscle memory by now.

The kids have had their will broken and no longer put up a fight.

Without being told to anymore, they toe off their shoes and hang their coat by the doorway. They don’t even do that in their own home. How Steve was able to get those wild animals house broken? No body knows.

His mom didn’t actually choose his room decor. It looks a bit barren but Steve likes it that way. It looks clean, easier to do so, too. Everything has its place tucked away from sight so it’s not an eye sore.

Even his plaid wallpaper and curtains he chose for himself. He spent all day finding the curtains that matched the closest and he was really proud of himself when found some.

“Steve, buddy, this looks mental.”

“But look,” (closest the curtains to show that even the pattern lines up seemlessly) “you almost can’t even see the difference between the wall and fabric. It’s like magic! It’s cool!” >:(

He’s very meticulous about his appearance. Dustin is absolutely flabbergasted when he sees his full hair routine for himself. Everything must be done a certain way in a certain order every time. It’s routine.

“Three puffs of the Farah Fawcett! THREE!”

“I DID THREE.”

“YEAH, BUT YOU DID THEM WRONG.”

When they discontinue it, Steve has a mini breakdown. He doesn’t like that his very specific and set routine has been broken. He’s convinced he’ll never find a hair spray to replace it. Everybody stocks up on cans of it to try and lower his anxiety.

He just loves cleaning, okay?

Ironing his kakis and polos until there are no wrinkles is so satisfying. Glass without finger smudges is so nice. His closet being organized by color is so efficient. When he’s worried, anxious, or angry he likes to keep his hands busy and it just calms him down going ham on a water stain in the bathroom.

When he hangs out at Eddie’s, he mindlessly starts picking things up here and there. It’s like heaven for him. He sees a mess and just wants to go to town. Eddie doesn’t mind as long as he knows where everything is in the end. He’ll admit that having his music organized alphabetically is pretty convenient.

It’s also a little funny to watch Steve iron his ripped jeans and battle jacket with an iron he brought from home.

“You’re a freak, Harrington.” Eddie has a shit eating grin. Steve flips him off.

“Fuck off.”

[skybreakprimeonao3]

With the amount of Clones created, there was always going to be an overlap of names.

Marshall Commander Cody of the 212th was not the only Cody.

Jesse of the 501st shared a name with many soldiers across many battalions.

There were so many Foxes, younger Clones naming themselves after the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guards in a bout of hero worship.

But there was a set of Clones on each Venator that, after passing their normal tests and combat training, went into specialized training before their assignments. A majority of them didn’t have names before the specialized training, and those that did, weren’t really attached to their names and chose their new names amongst the others they worked with.

Obi-Wan met them on the flight deck, the group disembarking from the drop ship and saluting the Jedi.

All of them would join in on the battles and train with the others during hyperspace flight, but it was fairly quick to see that these soldiers worked together in a specific way.

“May I know your names?” Obi-Wan asked. He was still hesitant in asking, knowing names could be a private thing amongst the soldiers.

“My name is Spoon, sir!”

“Cup, sir!”

“I’m called Whisk!”

Eyebrows rose, and a glance to Cody told Obi-Wan that this group was a bit of a surprise to him.

“Are all of you working in the mess hall?” Obi-Wan, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“Of course, sir,” Whisk answered. “We’re all trained in ways to make the nutripaste more appealing, and not to give the soldiers food poisoning. We also know how and what to hunt and forage in case we run low on supplies during a campaign.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said. And it did make sense. Many Padawans got the same training, especially if their missions took them to the more remote planets.

Obi-Wan continued to smile as he got the names of Fork, Lid, Pan, Pot, and Kettle, but he paused when he heard a second Spoon. He glanced back at the first one for a moment before looking at the second one.

“It’s not often that squad mates share a name,” he offered.

The second Spoon shrugged. “You can call me little Spoon if it helps, sir, but it’s silly if a kitchen only has one Spoon in it.”

The snort of amusement from Cody was more surprising than anything, and Obi-Wan accepted the explanation with a nod and chuckle of his own.