#power of association

[reality-detective]

THE SALT CONUNDRUM & MORE

“Everybody on earth is eating less salt”

When you go to the hospital, what’s the first thing they do, they put you on a SALINE (salt) drip because humanity is deficient in salt! Eat the salt, CELTIC SEA SALT is best! Salt is ELECTROLYTES, the foundation of you being ELECTRIC which facilitates you being CONSCIOUS to help your ASCENSION! 🤔

[regonold]

Ok fun idea so danny gains a reputation of the ghost who defeated the ghost king not becoming the ghost king but the man (boy) who defeated him

Like out of nowhere danny suddenly has the reputation of i defeated the being who it took a team of ancients to seal away

And eventually people hear of other things danny has done like defeating nocturn undergrowth and vortex and befriending clockwork pandora and frostbite

Until eventually he's accidentally built up a mythos around himself like he's went from friendly neighbourhood ghost boy to somehow a mythic being of legend

Which slowly bleads to his rouges and friends because why would the legendary phantom be fighting children no clearly they are much more powerful

So slowly danny is boosting his and his rouges and friends powers to powerful forces like the rouges might wonder what's happening as they are suddenly gaining powers or getting stronger and gaining titles

Like ember becomes known as mistress of sound and skullker actually gains the title of realms greatest hunter because how else could he survive against the legendary danny phantom

All the while Danny's got no clue whats happening except he's more powerful he's got no clue why but eh it helps so he's cool with it

Basically danny accidentally makes himself and his rouges/friends gods due to association and belief

If you wanna make it dpxdc some cult actually manages to summon the ghost king so Constantine decides to summon the one ghost supposedly able to beat the mad king

Only to get a fucking child and for said child to be a sassy little shit

[silver-peel]

🌿🌲

make something to celebrate spring and farewell to the lusty month of May :^)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 340

You know what I think is fun for a cryptid batfam AU? Living Armor. 

They do not realize that people think they have civilian identities. Or that people assume human when they tell them they have no powers. They are literally their armor and vigilante outfits, that is what they are, and they aren’t trying? To hide it? 

Somehow it should be obvious in their opinion! They don’t have heartbeats! Or skin! No it’s not just shadow and lead, why would you think that??

[ikarakie]

mike has a panic attack.

it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.

lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.

he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.

dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.

"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"

"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"

"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"

"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.

"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.

his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.

"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.

then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.

"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.

it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.

but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)

"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"

"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.

"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"

mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.

(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)

[deeva-arud]

So, about that one AU that's been marinating in my mind for years

[da-janela-lateral]

To be part of something big.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[jonahmagnus]

My take on the murdered FNAF kids. I forgot Elizabeth, sorry Elizabeth

[annes-andromeda]

“Will with a gun” this, “Mike with a random object” that-

-Hopper giving Mike his sword from the Russian prison (or Mike comes upon it whichever you prefer), and Mike practices with it every day cause that boy is an overthinker and in the final battle Will using his powers to light the sword on fire and byler lives out their Paladin/Wizard DnD fantasy together

[onlykenobimatters]

Codywan au where the clone troopers are actually a reincarnated group of an ancient sect of warriors from mandalorian space. They remember pieces of their previous society; some from the beginning of their origins all the way to the last grasping few. A lot of effort goes in to getting them assigned to the correct battalions. For they had a pantheon of gods they once worshipped and while they have always been One Blood, they believed very seriously in their coming of age ceremony where they must choose the god they would worship. It might have been thousands of years, but none stray from their Chosen.

(The pantheon would be similar to others in which they might have a core group of gods, but other minor gods could also exist. Each with their own domains;

Plo Koon was The Guardian? Protector of Packs and god of loyalty.

Mac Windu the Seer, protector/god of the past and future

While Yoda could be one of their oldest gods, his domains having shifted through the years but mainly protector of the young.

And then quigon who is associated with natural disasters. Legend is he was roaming their world, damning and saving mortals as he went, when he created a disaster so wroth, so powerful, he could not bare for it to fade. He pleaded with his grand sire and eventually Yoda agreed to help him. Combining their domains they turned the raging storm in to a young godling.

Obi-Wan, nature personified.

There are many legends involving the young godling and his journey. How he discovers his domains. And how he uses them to follow in his father’s footsteps to create children in his Image. For what is more natural than life and death?

Obi-wan is not the only one to create a god, but he is the only one to not need assistance. He becomes the Creator, the god of natural order, Father of Life (ahsoka) & death (Anakin)

Over the centuries the Line of Natural Order is adapted to many cultures within their system. Other attributes are gifted to them by followers of The Great Powers as well;

Life, goddess of survival & champion of the light side of the Great Power.

Death, god of balance & champion of the dark side of the Great Power.

The Creator, god of natural order and the Blessed, those who hold connections with the Great Power. )

and like I don't quite know where I was going with this, but clone wars era where the clones kind of remember this culture that doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere and these jedi that feel something Awaken when they meet these shining lights in the force.

and Obi-Wan gently cupping Cody's face, his blue eyes shining brightly. Obi-Wan allowing the force to guide him as he gently lays a kiss upon Co-, no, Kote's forehead, the warrior breathing in harshly as the first Blessing in thousands of years is granted to him. Kote is glory and Kote will uphold the Natural Order as The Creator, Ken'Obi, sees fit. For Kote is now Blessed by his patron God.

i dont even know this got away from me ugh

[dykedvonte]

Interesting that the two people Jimmy had the most issues with where the only two with concrete and valued titles as Nurse and Captain…

More interestingly, how he holds those titles above them to stiff arm them into doing what he wants while not really respecting their positions.

[doveywovy]

tobiizu au in peacetime setting where izuna being into petplay saves tobiramas life. let me elaborate

Tobirama has dog summons. Izuna signs the contract not as a summoner, but as a summons (as a dog), both of them presuming this will have no actual affect and is entirely for show/Izunas kink. this is so izuna can put on his silly little fake ears and his silly little collar and bark.

Except one day tobirama's in a near-death fight, uses his summons, and doesn't specify which dog he wants to summon- just that he wants the strongest he can manage with his limited chakra.

And Izuna appears.

Because apparently it wasn't all for show after all.

the implications of this are kind of insane and tobirama wants to spend the next ten years studying it in depth, but izuna's just riding the high of being Tobirama's Literal Dog Who Literally Saved Him.

[ianthedebonair]

What would Wei say? (🔞choices below the cut)

➡️"So can you make multiple copies of me here?"

➡️"How about you make a bunch of other Damiens?"

*Links above lead to gratuitous, self-indulgent smut. Definitely not safe for work.

Behold, the fruit of the bashful Chen poll. It was meant to be a single pinup-like illustration, but one thing led to another (and with valuable inspiration from @ladyshivs and @extreme-neutral), it ended up as another choose your own smut 😌😌.

(Also, reblogs are disabled on the linked posts. So, if you’re planning to, reblog this one instead 🫣)

[ruthlesswaves]

i figured him out. do you fw him