#I think he's from our world and has some sort of quick way to move between the 2 places and also that his 'shining device' is a laptop

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. + 1

“What is going on?” Batman asked the group as he swept into the room.

John stayed focused on the circle, not wanting to mess up now. It would be a lot of faff for nothing if he did.

“Constantine believes he has a contact to help us with our current issue,” Superman explained. “He is working on the summoning circle now.”

“Is that safe to do on the Watchtower?” Batman asked, as cautious as ever.

“Yeah, mate,” John answered for himself. “This one is a good one. Haven’t met them myself, but real helpful sort of fellow from everything I’ve heard. Or at least real helpful for the things that they can help with.”

Careful not to smudge any lines, John moved backwards out of the circle and gave it a good look over. The rest of the lot were talking about something, but if Batman hadn’t stopped him yet, John figured he was good and intended to keep working. A little slice to his finger, a few drops of blood, the right words, and it was done.

The white markings of the circle seemed to shudder and warp, like the lines on a desert street. Then they snapped a bright green and the inner lines seemed to fall away into an endless void. The void rippled and suddenly a hand reached out of it. The claws made the worst sound as they gripped into the metal floor.

Another hand joined it.

And then the being pulled themselves out of the summoning circle.

John knew better than to try and comprehend what he was seeing. It was all shadow and green flames and fear anyways.

“Who dares to call upon the Ghost King?” the being asked. The voice echoed through the room, through John’s head, through his soul. It sounded like a thousand screaming voices of the dead speaking all at once.

Toxic green eyes in the black mass swept over the group. It was like they were being seen; their souls, their very beings, every aspect of them flayed open and on display for this other worldly entity. John swallowed reflexively when the eyes paused on him for a moment. He wasn’t scared, but there was still a primal part of his brain that said he should run.

Then the gaze landed on Batman and stayed there. Superman stepped forward, slightly, as if to shield Batman from the being’s view.

The being didn’t seem to care and leaned forward up to the edge of the circle. “B?”

Batman inclined his head slightly, “Phantom.”

“Shit. This Justice League approved, huh? Sorry about the dramatics. Usually I only get summoned by cultists who want Pariah Dark, the old king, to give them power or cleanse the world of life or blah blah blah. Best to show up and put the fear of me into them,” the being said, motioning to themselves and all their horror. The reverb of their voice had settled some, now only like a few voices overlapping.

“Understandable,” Batman agreed, seemingly unaffected by it all.

John could only shrug incredulously at Superman’s questioning gaze. Fuck if he knew. Sure, Bats was unflappable, but everyone knew he avoided the supernatural stuff if he could.

The being pulled the last of itself out of the portal which sealed with a sickening squelch. “You could have just called though. Like, I get summoning is a quick way to travel, but it's a little painful."

“Painful?” Batman asked, turning to stare at John, who swallowed nervously at the cold tone.

“Yeah. This was a pretty clean circle though, props to the maker—”

“Thanks, I think?” John mumbled at he watched the being start to shift. It was like watching a black hole collapse in on itself.

“—so it's not that bad, but still it feels like ripping some duct tape off my skin or something,” the being continued. They were much more human shaped now, though they still smiled with an alarming number of very white teeth.

“We'll keep that in mind in the future. I was unaware of who, exactly, they were summoning.”

The rest of the roiling darkness settled on their shoulders like a half cape— one that seemed to hold the infinity of the night sky inside it. The vortex of flames settled into a crown of fire that floated above a head of stark white hair. They flexed their claws and the limbs settled into normal hands that they tucked into pockets of their three piece black suit with its sharp white accents. Then they stepped over the live of what was supposed to be an unbreakable summoning circle.

Like it was just waking through a door.

Like it was nothing.

John took a reflexive step back. This kind of rule breaking shit was exactly why he liked to avoid the Infinite Realms when he could; they were too chaotic to easily manage.

“All good,” they said with a shrug and a fanged smile. “So, what did you need the Ghost King for?”

-

Bruce watched Phantom scan the meeting room as they entered. Their eyes caught, just for a moment, and a million thoughts ran through Bruce’s head. Did he want to do this? Was it time? He trusted the Justice League. They had issues and conflicts, like any group, but they were heroes through and through.

Revealing this also did not mean revealing either of their civilian identities.

The nod was barely any movement at all, but Bruce knew that Phantom had caught it and understood. After so many years together, they hardly needed words, which Bruce often appreciated. Words had never been easy for Bruce. He worked on it for his family. He had to after…

Bruce forced himself not to think about that. Danny had saved Jason, even if the resulting years without Danny there were some of the hardest for the family. They were together again and better for it. Bruce let out a careful breath and took his normal seat.

“Thank you for your assistance, King Phantom,” Wonder Woman started. Phantom held up a hand.

“I didn’t say I could assist. I’ll listen and help if I can and see fit, but there are a great many things that are not mine to aid in,” Phantom said sternly, though his voice was carefully kind. “My influence is only over those closely tied to death and of the Infinite Realms. The living are outside of my jurisdiction.”

“Of course,” Superman said quickly as he could without rushing the words. “Listening is a great start. If you’ll take a seat.”

Phantom nodded and strode right past the indicated seat. With a casual ease that Bruce had always envied, Phantom sat on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“Um, King Phantom, your majesty?” Flash started nervously. “Batman doesn’t really like to be touched?”

“Really?” Phantom asked innocently. Bruce couldn’t see it, but knew exactly the smirk Phantom had as he leaned back to lounge against Bruce’s shoulder. (Bruce loved that smile.)

Bruce schooled his expression as he watched Flash and Hal exchange looks and frantic hand signs to each other.

J’onn tilted his head curiously as he took his own seat. Bruce could see J’onn come to an understanding as his eyes flickered down the the black metal brand around Phantom’s ring finger in the shape of a flying bat.

“Ah,” J’onn said softly.

“Ah? Ah what?” Flash asked, his words almost a whine. “What do you know?”

Bruce rested his hand lightly on Phantom’s hip, well aware that the motion was in sight of both Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Ah,” Wonder Woman said with a little smile. “J’onn knows something we all know, though not in this context. It is good to meet you, Phantom.”

“Good to meet you also, Wonder Woman. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Phantom said as she sat down next to them.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said with a teasing smile directed Bruce’s way.

“Hn.”

Phantom just laughed, the sound echoing like a ringing bell. “It’s okay, I know what B is like. Trust me, that you know anything at all is a big deal. He’s just bad at doing things the normal way.”

Bruce held back a sigh and just pinched Phantom’s side again, making the other squeak and backhand Bruce in the chest.

“Holy shit!” Hal jutted a finger at Phantom. “You’re Batman’s husband!”

“Guilty as charged,” Phantom said.

“Wait, no, you’re what?” Flash asked and zipped closer to the table. “Huh. You are so not what I expected. I mean, I guess ghost plus Spooky works but you’re so… lively! Wait— is that like, offensive to call the dead lively?”

Phantom laughed again and shook his head. “No, but not everyone in the realms will take it as a compliment. I don’t mind and besides, I’m only half-dead.”

“Half-dead?” Superman asked with his brow furrowed worriedly.

Phantom just waved the concern away. “It’s complicated. Mostly it just means that I still get to live out my human life as simply a human. Ghosts move slower, having eternity and all, so there’s not too much for me to do as the king other than attend to summons and make slow changes.”

“So,” Hal started, ignoring Bruce’s glare and sliding into a seat finally. “You’re married to Batman in your civilian form as well?”

“Of course, it would be silly otherwise,” Phantom said and then added, “and no, I won’t tell you who B is. That’s for him to choose.”

“Okay, but like, we can talk to you, right?” Flash asked, eager as ever.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? But work first. What do you think I can help you all with?”

Bruce moved his hand to rest on the small of Phantom’s back and watched his husband command the room like the king he was.

--- AN: and here's the last part! The JL finally meet Batman's husband, or at least once side of him!

[vinceaddams]

I'm on page 59 and am SO intrigued by this setting and how the heck things ended up like this. I want to go camping there. The main character/narrator is so sweet and caring, and I love how autistic he is.

I spilled a glass of water on my copy of Piranesi while it was on my nightstand waiting to be read. Now I'm finally reading it and it's got a lot of tides and flooding, so it seems quite fitting to have a bit of water damage, but I still feel bad about how wrinkly it made the top edge.

[average-mako-enjoyer]

crying screaming throwing up 1/3

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I just bitched about the lazy writing and world-building in Mass Effect, but I wouldn't love these games if they didn't have moments where everything was on point (or close to it): the writing, the animation, the voice acting, everything.

Here's one of my favorite scenes, it's very short and I bet you've never thought about it before, but it's so, so good, I'm obsessed with it and I have to scream.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only time that Shepard really freaks out is after the Mars mission. It happens right on screen, we don't hear it from someone else, we don't have to headcanon it, we get to see Shepard not as a protagonist, not as a savior of the galaxy, not as a soldier, but as an actual human being, simply scared shitless.

I also love that it starts with Liara immediately realizing what's going on. You can see that she freaks out too, because Shepard is freaking out, and the camera lingers on her reaction as it shifts from fear to sadness to understanding. And then we finally get to see the condition of our favorite Virmire survivor, and it's just oof.

When we go back to Liara, she already knows what to do.

And then we finally get to see Shepard. All these erratic movements are completely out of character. Throughout the three games, we only see Shepard move with some sort of intention (yes, because it's a game, and it's supposed to be that way, but think beyond that; it's also Shepard's characteristic as a person), and there's no intention in this. Shepard is holding on to the examination table, trying to lean down or move forward, and that's because now, in this situation, he can do nothing. No amount of self-sacrifice, quick thinking, tactical advantage, or stupid badassery will help. There's someone on that table he clearly cares about, and he has no say in the matter.

And Liara knows it. She leans forward to look Shepard in the eye and draw his attention to herself. She starts soft and pleading:

And dude, Shepard's expression is everything. It's sad and scared and open... again, completely out of character.

And then we can watch Liara's expression change when she sees that Shepard heard her. Her tone is no longer soft, it becomes quite aggressive.

It is all very deliberate. And it works! Shepard is still terrified, but he furrows his eyebrows and his expression closes. Now he looks more like the Shepard we all know and love.

Another change of tactics, and oh my god. Say what you will about my girl Liara, she is a real MVP here. Notice how she goes soft again and just gives Shepard a suggestion. She knows the best way to snap him out of his panic and sense of sheer helplessness is to push him to start giving orders again.

And again, it works! This sounds and looks like our usual Shepard.

Oh, I love these animations. The change from something hard-assed and in control to something vulnerable... Whoever animated this, let me kiss you on the mouth, let's ride into the sunset. You're beautiful and I love you.

✨Gentle touches✨ Not like our usual Shep at all.

Now to part 2 because I have even more gifs

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 24: Christmas Party [OS]

Pairing: Snape x GN!Muggle!Reader

POV: Third, Snape

Setting: Snape lives AU, set many, many years after the Second Wizarding War and life has been kind to Severus at last — with you by his side.

A/N: It’s Christmas Eve darlings! Merry Christmas! 😍🎄✨ We’re in full swing with the celebrations and with the in-laws visiting it’s quite nice. For those who don’t know me, my husband is from Hong Kong and so we have quite different cultures, language barriers (no shared language despite having many languages between us) etc in our family but we always end up having such a great time 🥰

I wish you all the best holiday and I hope next year will be amazing! Let’s end this year’s Rickmas with some Old-Happy-Snape 😍❤

Tags/TW’s: Fluff, Cuteness, Snape Lives, Old Snape, Love, Kissing, Hugging, Comfort, Happiness, Domestic Fluff, HAPPY SNAPE, COMFORT READ

Word Count: 1.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Christmas Party

There was little to do for him. You always sorted everything needed, with a smile so bright and a warmth so strong he would never have enough of it. Each year, as if it were a magical law, you turned into an energetic ball of joy with a need to decorate every surface of the little house he had come to feel at home in — a feeling he never expected to experience. It had been years of this warmth now, years of having a bright home and that odd feeling in his gut that came with complete relaxation.

It was all you, of course. It had nothing to do with the cosy kitchen where your favourite mug and his stood side by side next to the kettle. It had little to do with the fireplace of natural stone dressed in garlands and two stockings with his and your name hand-stitched into the white fabric in the living room. There was nothing special about the bedroom with the hand-sewn quilt of fabrics procured during all your travels around the world. Not even the cute covered porch with the hanging swing big enough for two to sit and watch the marvellous sunsets during chilly spring evenings had anything to do with it.

It was you. Just you. He could live in a shack at the edge of the world and you’d make it wonderful, he was certain of it. You were magical. A muggle, sure, but more magical than any spell or incantation could ever hope to be.

“Severus! Where are you, love?” you called and he could not help but smile as he put down his book and got out of the comfortable chair of worn-out leather. “The study,” he said, his voice carrying through the house despite it not being loud. You poked your head in with that bright smile and those warm eyes. “Cheeky, love. Come on, they’ll all arrive soon.” “On my way,” he said while you disappeared, your quick steps sounding out through the house while he moved a bit slower.

He stretched out his back, two pops going off before he rolled his shoulders once. He was no spring boy anymore, and time had not been kind to his body — but you seemed to love it as much today as you had all those years ago. That was all that mattered.

He drew a deep breath, not fearing what was to come as he had done for the first decade by your side. Now he knew better. He was better. Again, it was all your handiwork. So, as he walked through the narrow hallway from one end of the house to the other he found his steps to be light and the warmth of the house felt comfortable rather than stifling as it had done all those years ago when life had been dark and he had been broken.

“Can you get the ice chocolate and the fudge from the fridge?” you asked as he entered the kitchen. “The red or green bowls?” he asked as he grabbed the sweets. You looked over your shoulder at him, a little flour on your nose and the amazing smile had gone even wider. “The red ones, I think the green ones for the gingerbread and candy canes.” He nodded. “Certainly. You know best, sweetheart.” You giggled. “Again.” He harrumphed but obliged. “Sweetheart." “Onnnne more time?” you asked, your eyes warming as you’d stopped whisking whatever was in the bowl before you. “Sweetheart,” he said, not wavering in his gaze hooked to yours. “I love you.” You smiled softly all of a sudden and his heart stuttered.

He sat the sweets down, walking up to you. He grabbed at your waist and pulled you close before whispering into your ear. “I love you beyond all things.” “Sev.” “Mmh, my sweetheart…” he murmured before kissing your cheek that was all warm against his lips. “You’re a wonder, each year—” The doorbell rang and interrupted him. “They’re here!” you called out and he chuckled as you scrambled out of the apron, revealing how perfectly dressed you were in greens and silver. He grabbed your wrist before you bolted. “Flour,” he said before brushing it off your nose.

You leaned up and kissed him quickly with all the love in the world shining in your eyes. Then you nearly ran to the door while he walked slowly out of the kitchen just as jolly voices rang through the house in a cacophony of wishes for Happy Holidays and Merry Christmases. It made him smile hearing his in-laws and friends be so happy to enter his home for a Christmas party. Never had he imagined he’d ever have anything the likes of his current life. But, with you, he had all the things he’d thought impossible — despite the differences and difficulties the two of you had gone through at first it had all been worth it.

He chuckled to himself as he entered the hallway. You were in full swing with gathering everyone's coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. You were more of a clothing pile on legs at that moment than a human. He drew out his wand and flicked it, lifting the burden from you and hanging it all up. “Oh, thank you, love,” you said with a chuckle as he nodded. “Now, can we all gather in the living room for some toddy and sweets that would be great,” you said loudly while the general noise of twelve people in the tiny hallway made it quite hard to hear.

Everyone greeted him warmly, happily, before moving through the house and into the soon-to-be packed living room while you brought up the rear end. “This will be wonderful, love,” you said, giving him a quick hug and kiss. “You make everything wonderful,” he said before releasing you. You blew a raspberry. “Sev, love, you make me who I am,” you said — something you had told him several times but it would probably be the one thing he would never fully understand.

“Then I shall keep doing whatever it is I am doing, sweetheart,” he murmured before stealing another quick kiss before the both of you moved to the living room and all the happy guests who wished to spend Christmas Eve with the two of you every year. I am blessed, he thought and you stopped just beyond the threshold — forcing him to do the same. “You deserve this, Sev.” He glanced down at you. “What?” “You think you’re blessed, but you’ve done all the work to get here. You deserve this, so, smile and enjoy it with me?”

That you knew him so well only added to the warmth. He leaned forward, kissing your temple gently. “Every day, sweetheart. Every. single. day, he murmured with that low tone you seemed to adore so much. And, indeed, your eyes warmed further and there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than right there in the chaos of a loud Christmas party with you by his side...

The end of Rickmas 2024... Thank you for this year, darlings!

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: HE DESERVES ALL THE HAPPINESS! 😭👏🎄✨❤

Merry Christmas darlings! I hope you've had a wonderful time this December and that you're all warm on the inside with this last fic of Rickmas 2024 ❤❤❤

I can barely wrap my head around having been able to post every day for Rickmas this year without missing a single day, and it's ended up at a total 69k word count in the end - holy moly 👀😅

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl  @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @meliasnape @B3lls @canihelpyou201 @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @sanji-simp @snapesrn @thatlittlefangirl @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

[funkycloewn]

I've once again come from the dead to post lmaooo

After having avoided the pilot for so long in fear of getting sucked into the world and fandom, I finally watched Lackadaisy! (My fears were right btw as it has a grip on me rn) I love it and subsequently read the comic so I knew everything and wouldn't get spoilered.

Anyway, a little time after I came across the amazing interactive fic called the Under The Devil's Moon made by @libras-interactives

I enjoyed a lot (and can't wait for the next chapter/update) and couldn't help but make ocs due to this fic being a sort of self insert thing

These characters shown are only two out the five I made :]

It's sorta rambly but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! (Especially you, Iibra 🥺)

Name: Margaret Quinn

Nickname: Daisy

Date of Birth: October 26, 1889 (31 Years Old)

Personality:

(Mostly the usual callgirl personality with some stuff added into the mix)

Years of being in the industry, has shaped this feline to be calm, gentle and soft spoken. She knows what her customers want and acts accordingly so. Though, she doesn't particularly show it — that would be bad for her image as a callgirl — she is quick to give a person a label, to categorize them. She doesn't mean to be judgy but this mindset has helped her out countless of times, so she continues on; getting to know that someone is the only way for her to lift off the verdict she holds. With the ones she loves, Margaret is very caring towards. Making sure they're well fed with both food and love is one of her top priorities. (Though, recently that has been a difficult task to maintain) This, unfortunately, can make her pushy and stubborn even when she means well.

Romantic Relationship:

Out of all the characters to choose from I chose our friendly local bartender, Viktor Vasko. At one time I was thinking of either Zib or Sable but after reading about how he would treat Chester, I was sold. I can't for that romance to unfold! :D (rhyming unintended)

Other:

• She was born and lived most of her life in the outskirts of New Orleans

• Her mother succumbed to a yellow fever outbreak, leaving her and a few other kids orphaned.

• This led to her forming a group with said children and the four of them residing in an abandoned shack.

• Margaret knows how to fix things at least temporarily because of this (e.g. pipes and infrastructure).

• (This one is a little violent so warning for that :'D) Both her front paws are missing their claws. This is due to a farmer who got sick of her constantly stealing his chickens.

• The pearl necklace she has, was given to her by Flynn. She doesn’t like anyone to know that and avoids the question when asked who she got it from.

• She likes fidgeting with the pearls. The way they softly clack when moved and the feeling of them soothes her.

• Due to her motherly nature, she will "adopt" (translation: care and look after) anyone under the age of 25 with who she is somewhat close to, especially when they are boys

• She sees Jack and Marius as older sons of hers

• Rocky could (will) be a contender for the spot of a fourth son

• She always carries a box containing a sewing kit, buttons and patches

• This has come in handy plentiful of times for Jack, mostly. On rare occasions Marius is in need of them, though I would think he's picky on what she uses; they have to match.

• Though, she says she doesn't know who Chester's father is, she knows. She just doesn't like to acknowledge it.

Voice Claim: Tiana from Princess and the Frog

Name: Chester Quinn

Date of Birth: January 6, 1917 (3 Years Old)

Personality:

This little troublemaker, has a great fondness for being one with the earth. By that I mean, he loves digging. Chester likes creating craters at playgrounds or parks, all the while letting himself be covered in freshly dug up soil. Almost all of his clothes have a grass stain and Larochka fears that he might have stained his chubby little hands for eternity. Speaking of fashion, he hates wearing shoes. A tantrum is bound to occur if you simply try to make him wear a pair. Even if you somehow achieve the impossible, he will just claw them off and chuck them. However despite all that, he's well meaning and can be gentle at times. He enjoys snuggling with him Mama or Larochka. Chester is very social and when out he's always looking for a way to make people smile.

Other:

• If he likes you, he'll make you a 'special mud pie' (a mud pie sprinkled with hand picked flowers; the more flowers, the more he likes you)

• He's handsy, mostly because he's an affectionate boy but also due to the fact he has poor eye sight.

• While he's chubby right now he grows to look more like his father, even somewhat in the face department.

• Fortunately for everyone and the tom himself, he grows out of his habit to refuse any kind of footwear. Don't tease older Chester about his phase, though, because he will get embarrassed and he will look like he just ate a sour lemon.

Voice Claim: Greg from Over the Garden Wall

Cleaned up and with his eye color when he gains his melanin

Wonder who the dad is lmaoo

Lastly a size comparison (not sure if it's accurate tho lol)

[24kmagiic]

I've been reading your fics for years and I gotta say I love how you write Bonnie. She's so fierce. How do you think Bonnie being with Klaus would influence her personality/character in canon?

First of all, thank you! I’m so happy you found joy in my fics and hope to continue them all. My musings for Bonnie have been so fickle recently.

So! To answer your question, I think being with Klaus would allow Bonnie to “unmask”. So much of her character has been suppressed so her true personality is sort of a mystery. We draw conclusions but what is actually canon? Bonnie went from being a quirky "mean/party girl" to being an uptight recluse in a span of five episodes so which one is the truth? In the first three episodes, she seemed fun, slightly immature, and dismissive of anything 'deep' and then she became a broody 'bitch' who's morally sound and incorruptible. I don't think that happens overnight with the discovery of the supernatural world but that's how they portrayed her because they didn't give a damn about her development. OR it could be that they changed the progression of her character at the last minute and didn't think anyone would notice. I did.

Klaus wouldn’t necessarily turn her into a “villain” as we love to fantasize, but by Bonnie suddenly creating and enforcing boundaries, along with an unwillingness to put on the brave front she usually does, it would feel (to them) like disrespect and they'd 1000% make her out to be villainous.

I think the box she’s been placed into would shatter and Bonnie would be faced with the fact that yes, she has simply been tolerated all these years by the only friends she’s ever known. I think this would cause her to lean on Klaus heavily and we may even see her codependency shift from Elena to him. Let’s face it, our girl is seriously co-dependent. Klaus would of course benefit from her codependency but it'd probably skeeve him out because as clingy a Klaus can be, I feel like he despises clinginess. He gives off Cancerian energy and, as a fellow cancer, I can attest to this. We can be clingy but you can't because, ew.

That said, Bonnie's codependency wouldn't look like what you'd normally expect when you think of your local co-dependent idiots. It's not following him around everywhere and doing everything he says.

It's harming herself for his benefit.

In the same way she was so eager to die for Elena, she'd try to do the same for Klaus except he would not allow it.

Bonnie sees NO value in her presence in other's lives. It's why she's so gungho to sign up for martyrdom. But not because she actually thinks that the world would be better with them in it. It's because she can't bear the thought of surviving without them.

Because in WHAT world do we benefit from Elena over Bonnie? Or Klaus over Bonnie? NONE. And if she digs deep, Bonnie knows that. But in HER world, they have to outlive her because she can't handle losing yet another person.

So on to the driving force behind her co-dependency. Abandonment and therefore, Abby and Rudy, and let's face it, Sheila. This girl has been abandoned three times in three different ways.

Before you hang me out to dry, forget I mentioned grams because I know you're chomping at the bits to correct me.

Abby represents physical abandonment and so does Rudy. The fact that you'd just up and leave your only child is beyond my comprehension but we've already beaten that dead horse so let's move straight into Rudy, the other dead horse.

While he was physically present some of the time, he was still gone a lot and did the bare minimum when it comes to children. Food, clothes, and shelter. Emotionally, he was completely gone. Showing up at the high school graduation after the hard work is over is such deadbeat behavior but again, the horse is dead, no need to whack it.

Now, take a deep breath and think about how I'm about to chop Sheila's ass up real quick.

This type of abandonment, I don't have a label for but it's so unique to Bonnie as a character that maybe by the end of it, I'll coin a catchy phrase.

Bonnie mentioned that Sheila was a drunk (even though the writers abandoned that idea) but let's go with it. As a product of TWO alcoholic parents, (who both came from alcoholic parents) I can attest that there is a unique form of abandonment that borders emotional, physical, and mental neglect.

Sheila had 16 years to help Bonnie wield her magic and defend herself against the great evils out there and instead, she chose to get drunk and 'ramble' about the occult. WHO is going to take a drunk person seriously about any of that? Family or not, ain't a soul out there that'll believe anything you say when you can't control your intake. It sounds like everything Bonnie knew, she had to piece together from the tidbits Sheila bothered to mention.

She left her granddaughter utterly defenseless and yeah, you can argue that she was following Rudy's wishes but guess what. RUDY WAS NEVER THERE! He left Bonnie in Sheila's care so if Sheila decided to teach her granddaughter magic, then what the hell was he going to do about it? Stay home?

I think Sheila used that as an excuse to shy away from the deeper issue which is her ultimately losing her own daughter to magic because Sheila never saw Abby again after she left Mystic Falls and I can imagine how painful that must have been but knowing the evils out there, it was completely neglectful to leave Bonnie defenseless.

Humans always operate in extremes. They go from one extreme to the next without ever addressing the root cause. Both Rudy and Sheila felt like they failed when it came to their relationship with Abby so they did the COMPLETE opposite with Bonnie and in turn, created a whole new network of problems. They are the root cause of our self-sacrificing, co-dependent queen because they were so focused on Abby that they never once considered Bonnie.

I tend to be long-winded as hell, my apologies. You're probably wondering, 'Well, what does all this have to do with Klonnie?' Well, I needed to explain my view of Bonnie before I could get into how I think her being with Klaus would affect her personality and character.

For the first time in her life, Bonnie would actually be considered. As boneheaded and selfish as Klaus is, when he's in love, he is surprisingly considerate and while all we truly got from him in canon was heavy admiration (cause he ain't love them hoes), it was a nice glimpse into what could have been for him.

Let's use his relationship with Hope when we reference Love.

First, let me say that the writers did a terrible disservice of having him abandon Hope for all them years but when he was there, he always looked out for her best interest. When Freya entertained the thought of Hope binding her wolf as Klaus's mother did to him, we got to see him fight for her even if Hope herself thought that's what she wanted. Klaus uniquely understood what that would do to Hope and did everything in his power to prevent it, including threatening to dispatch his own family.

As for Bonnie, no one understands abandonment on that show like Klaus Mikaelson and he would instantly catch on to Bonnie's toxic behavior pattern. He'd see right through the lies she'd weave and while it may have worked on Gilbert the Younger, it ain't fidna fly with Bad Ass Mikaelson, the man who carried his family around in coffins because they threatened to leave him or jeopardize their relationship.

The two of them are two sides of the same coin. Where Bonnie internalizes her abandonment issues, Klaus externalizes his. While Bonnie has an "I'd rather die young than live my life without you" approach to love; Klaus has an "I'll kill you and every mf in here before I let you go"' approach.

It'd be a very toxic paring at first but once they 'healed', they'd work so well because each of them has a love that the other has been looking for. Bonnie has been waiting for someone to fight for her whether she knows it or not. She wouldn't know how to handle it at first because it's too much and very dangerous but deep down, she'd feel relieved to finally know what it's like to be fought for. As for Klaus, he's been waiting for someone to give up everything to be devoted to him because in the past, people so easily discarded him to go after what they wanted and it was never him. He's always left behind in the grand scheme of others. Rebekah easily discards him for love. His mother bound him with a spell to hide her own transgressions, Elijah, though loyal, was always at risk of falling in love and detaching himself from Klaus and the threat alone was enough to drive Klaus to commit the most grisly murders.

So, again, to answer your question, simply put, I think they'd bring out the absolute worst in one another at first but not in the ways you'd expect. Like I said earlier, Klaus would force Bonnie to work on her boundaries in general because he's notorious for overstepping boundaries and he's the perfect punching bag to practice on. But once they got over the initial shock of one another and realized that they both (essentially) want the same things from one another, they'd mellow out.

I hope that somewhat answers your question. If you have any follow-up questions, please submit them because I definitely cut myself short for the sake of "brevity" lol.

[mochiwrites]

Any thoughts to share about the secret husbands reunion? It's giving me such brain worms, they're so soft!

ofc!!! :D

so after they reunite on mumbo’s redstone world and catch up, grian stays there for a few days with scar Constantly visiting. and honestly I think it’s an opportunity for mumbo and scar to become better friends as well! the three of them spend a lot of time in each others company after all. but mumbo does try to give scar and grian some space (I think mumbo is one of the first to notice they’ve got feelings for each other)

he also gets a front row seat to scar becoming his normal self again. the man can’t stop smiling, and he’s like a bouncy ball with how much he’s just moving around and cheerful (mumbo catches grian looking at him with a terribly fond smile Very often)

grian probably stays with mumbo for hmmm two weeks? maybe a bit longer? after crashing into his world? it gives them a lot of time to get to know each other (they get along extremely well — just like scar thought they would) and while grian doesn’t tell him Every little detail about the watchers, mumbo does end up learning about what happened and is one of the only people who knows the most

when scar isn’t with them, he’s back on the season five world hatching a plan to sneak grian onto hermitcraft

said plan is foiled Very quickly when it’s found by cub and xisuma himself. they laugh about it because “scar you could’ve just asked us to invite grian” and scar is rambling because he knows it has to be a unanimous vote and what if not everyone agrees and he’s just gotten grian back x :( he can’t be separated from him again :(

to which cub just sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him it’ll be fine (scar brings it up at the next meeting and everyone is enthusiastic about grian joining them. scar cries. a lot.)

and when he and mumbo pop into mumbo’s world again where grian is, they drop the news on him (no scar did Not tell grian about any of this beforehand) and maybe grian gets a little teary eyed too

scar stays in the world that night, curled protectively around grian and they whisper to each other about hermitcraft, the sort of server it is and the people in it. and he’s quick to reassure grian of his place in it when grian is doubtful

after grian’s injuries heal up enough mumbo lets him have his own lil plot in the world to practice his building again. it’s been so long that he’s… nervous about doing it again. what if he’s no good anymore?

when scar comes to visit he’ll sit and watch grian build, introducing the new blocks and colors and oh he’s greatly missed the way grian’s eyes sparkle with interest or when he’s got a new idea for a build — sometimes they build together, and sometimes mumbo joins them, learning some things

(he’s kind of in awe, watching the two of them work together. it’s very inspirational)

sometimes they do a build competition, with little prompts and everything. they take turns on who judges the build/gives the prompt and who actually builds

and when it’s time for season five’s ending, grian is alone in mumbo’s world for a bit while scar and mumbo wrap up whatever they need to. it’s… hard to be alone, but he comforts himself by looking at the reminders of scar (and mumbo) and he gets through

scar gets a bear hug when they return though. and then mumbo too, just so he doesn’t feel left out <3

then finally… scar brings grian home. and they’re both very emotional about it. grian sees jellie and she’s glued to his side despite his fear she wouldn’t remember him. she is extremely adamant about sleeping On grian at night, and scar teases him about stealing his cat. “our cat,” grian replies with a big grin. though scar says something about jellie missing him just as much

(I think on those days when scar would stay at their hypixel apartment in hopes grian would come home, jellie went with him. and at night she’d curl up on grian’s pillow a lot. her favorite toy would be on his side of the bed, always. scar would hold bring grian’s pillow in close with her on it and cry)

while waiting for season six to start they spruce up the apartment a bit !!! they try to get back into the swing of their routine while accounting for the new things (grian’s wings, his fears, his nightmares, the powers they gave him)

it isn’t easy, but they get through it. and when the season properly begins, they spawn in, and grian goes off on his own to adventure and meet everyone. he’s… a little awkward and shy (very unlike him, he knows) but ironically ends up right by scar and mumbo and he’s so relieved (I think scar and grian talked about basing near each other before the season began)

and yeah :D

[carbuncle-paws]

I've made a pokemon AU for Peter :3 yaaaay! Doubt I'm the first to draw him as a sneasler but I'm not gonna let it stop me.

Some information!

Sneasler ♂ lv???

Dark / Poison Ability: Insomnia (might change this) Lonely nature + quick tempered Main Attacks: Slash, Lash Out, Dire Claw/Poison Jab, Hone Claws/Nasty Plot Lesser used: Bite/Crunch/Jaw Lock, Close Combat, Thief, Endure, Spite

Design notes:

Very tall (6'5'') and thin, even by species standards.

Completely hairless (and featherless) and by extension, no facial or feet markings. Torso and poison are discolored (both blue)

Ripped off both his forehead and chest gems, there are faint scars where they used to be. The one on his chest is covered by a gem you gave him.

Wears a hood made from a Mightyena's pelt.

The back of his claws (the blue part) is razor sharp, they're basically gigantic knives. If getting backhanded by them doesn't kill you, the poison probably will.

From a distance or in dark lighting, he can be easily mistaken as a human. He can also speak our language (just like meowth), his voice is raspy and a bit deep, perhaps from an injury.

The PeterAU x Reader story outline below, if you're interested!

Character/Story notes:

(OOOPS this sort of became a whole story teehee oh well. This is basically what my outlines look like but I probably won't make this into an actual fic. So, enjoy!)

He has no name, but wouldn't mind if you gave him one.

He grew up with a fascination for humans, and even learned to speak our language, but was betrayed by the ones he had trusted. He almost died, and was left hideously disfigured in the eyes of his species (furless/featherless and discolored). For a long time he hated all humans, and would murder any unfortunate enough to enter his territory. Until he met you.

He saves you from being eaten by a pack of Mightyenas, which goes against his usual hatred for your species. He stalks you through the mountain forests for a while, thinking that he'd gather reasons why you deserve to die so he can savor killing you himself.

Instead... he gets attached, and that infuriates him. From the shadows, completely unbeknownst to you, he helps you return to civilization. He looked forward to forgetting you, and going back to the worldview he's comfortable with.

But then you keep coming back to his territory, which is bad for two big reasons. He doesn't like the effect you have on him, and the area is dangerous... he doesn't want you getting hurt. So, without revealing himself, he tries multiple times to show you how his mountains are no place for a human. Nothing works. Ironically, he also does things to protect you from real threats.

His fleeting attachment for you grows into a burning obsession in time, and he wants so badly to interact with you. But not only is he a pokemon... he is also ugly.

One day he slips up, and you spot a glimpse of him through the trees, but it's too shaded and you mistake him for a person, and you call out to him. Instantly understanding what you've mistaken him for, he tentatively responds, but refuses to leave his hiding place. You figure he's just shy, but are happy to see another person who isn't afraid to visit these mountains, which have a horrible reputation. Probably because he's been killing people, but you don't know that. It's a shame, because you find it so beautiful up here...

Visiting him becomes routine for you. He says some really weird things, but the way he views the world is so unique and refreshing, and you form a fast friendship. He is very stubborn about remaining out of sight, but does start altering his appearance so he can stop worrying that the occasional glimpse you do get might give him away. He tailors a crude Mightyena hood for himself to obscure his face and ears.

He becomes desperate to spend more time with you, especially when you start talking about moving away someday soon, away from the town full of people who don't understand you. He wants to go with you... he wants to be your pokemon, but thinks you won't accept him as he is. His past with humans has him believing that trainers only value beautiful or strong pokemon. So he starts doing crazy things to prove his worth. Like, killing the strongest pokemon in the area, and leading you to its corpse to gauge your reaction. He hoped you'd be in awe and wonder what could've felled such a beast, and then he would reveal that it was him... but instead you were terrified, and sad for the dead pokemon.

It shakes him, makes him hate himself so much more. If a monster isn't what you want... then he'll just have to become human for you. He destroys the parts of himself that makes him different from you, starting by ripping off the gems on his chest and forehead. His claws will be next... but the pain and blood loss from just the gems is too much, and almost kills him. You find him while he's passed out, and although you don't recognize that he's who you've been speaking to, you rush him into town and save his life.

He wakes up in a pokemon center surrounded by strange humans, and freaks the fuck out. He wounds one of the nurses badly and would've killed someone he didn't hear you screaming at him to stop. The future he built up in his head, of either becoming your pokemon or close enough to a human that you might accept him, shatters in an instant. He runs, breaking out of the building and mindlessly fleeing into the mountains. You're shocked by his reaction, and something about the silhouette he makes as he escapes through the trees is familiar...

The people in the town know that he must be the monster that's been killing people, and at the same time, you realize that he's actually the boy from the mountains. Your dear friend. An armed mob storms into his territory intent on revenge, despite your protests. They locate his den and start a fire to smoke him out or kill him via burning or suffocation.

You had followed them, and when they start the fire you try to physically stop them. They're stronger though and throw you to the ground, yelling insults at you for defending such a loathsome creature. They kick you into the den so you can burn with him.

You hurry further inside but can't seem to find him... instead, he finds you. He lunges from the shadows behind you, not realizing who you are, pinning you to the ground and snarling in your face. He would have ripped your jugular out with his teeth if you hadn't wrapped your arms around him and hugged tight, instead of fighting him off like he expected. It confuses him and he thrashes to get away but you don't let go, and he slowly comes to his senses, realizing that it's you.

Why are you here, after everything he did? That he's done, his reputation as a people killer? You know who and what he is now, but you're still here and the way you hold him, whispering soothingly into his ear... Is this really happening or has he finally lost his mind? He breaks down and squeezes you back, sobbing into the neck he'd been seconds away from tearing his teeth into.

Smoke starts robbing his den of breathable air and brings the both of you out of the moment, forcing you to confront the situation at hand. You try to run back to the exit first, but it's engulfed in flames. He takes you further inside, to where he usually sleeps, and light shines through a crack in the rocks above. He pushes you up to it and you crawl out, but he's too big to follow and he urges to go without him. This is the fate he deserves.

But you refuse, and start tearing at the stone and dirt above the opening with your bare hands. It finally sinks in, seeing you desperately trying to save him, just how much you really care and maybe... maybe that means his life might be worth living after all. That he deserves another chance.

He joins your efforts and uses his claws to pry apart more of the stone. It takes a gargantuan effort, and he starts to pass out as the oxygen in his den dwindles. You grab onto his arm and pull with all of your strength, and against the odds are able to drag him out.

You're both exhausted and completely out of breath, but you drag him into another embrace anyways. You tell him to never ever sacrifice himself like that again, that he's so important to you and you'd be devastated to lose him. You ask him... if he would go with you, away from here, and although the strong emotions that overtake him have him choking up too much to respond with words, the way he holds you back is all the confirmation you need.

Together the two of you travel far, far away, going on an adventure that explores the best and worst that humankind has to offer, and form an unbreakable bond.

Aaaaand that's it! Sorry if it's pretty cheesy hahahaha it's just what my brain went for in the short amount of time I wrote this up. Again, probably not going to write an actual fic out of this (or at least I won't consider it until my current one is finished) but I had a lot of fun and it was a nice little break before delving back into Angels Fall. Hope you guys liked it too >w</

[svnoofy]

10. alas, we meet again.

warnings/disclaimers: profanity, slight puke talk | | wc: 947

YOU COULDN’T BELIEVE YOUR EYES.

you did not imagine having to face ANOTHER predicament on your already horrible day. you squint your eyes – rubbing them even – praying that the little speck moving along the sidewalk was just a fragment of your imagination.

oh hell naur, you thought to yourself, feeling the contents of your stomach bubbling up, ready to splatter out any moment. you weren’t sure if this was because you were anxious or utterly disgusted.

suddenly, your mind began replaying moments from your childhood which was triggered by the sight of the individual you had seen.

unfond memories of arguments over legos, barbies and colored pencils and even memories of consistently being in the school’s academic spotlight together as rivals washed over you like an unforgivable tidal wave.

yang jungwon, that was the very name you despised saying and hearing– and there he might be, about to board your bus, as you squirm and wince in full disgust and disbelief.

when the bus made its stop at the station, you froze. you were unable to register the situation that was about to happen to you. as a lazy attempt to avoid any contact with him, you occupied the vacant seat next to you with your bag, plugging in your earphones and putting on your sunglasses to come off as unidentifiable (and unapproachable)

as passengers poured into the bus, one by one, you thank yourself for your ingenious tactic of going unrecognised. you observed the passengers one by one, carefully spotting your target.

this was when you realized– your eyes may have played a little trick on you (and you may need glasses). turns out: the person you so dreaded to see was not the person you thought after all! you felt a massive weight being taken off your shoulder– knowing you can continue your bus ride in peace.

however, what baffles you is why his identity was the first you associated with the innocent passenger? could that have been some sort of omen?

-

when you reached your stop, you descended the bus and enthusiastically marched towards your cafe. despite the fact that you almost burned your hair off to a crisp, missed the bus twice and maybe almost encountered your worst nightmare– you were thankful because luck seemed to be on your side.

your enthusiastically trotted to your cafe, your arrival being greeted by the sound of the wind-chimes on the door handle, earning weird glances from customers.

you continued your enthusiastic trot behind the counter, where you found sunoo, slouched over a box of oat milk, check board in hand– it was restocking day.

“that bastard has the money to buy 18 cartons of japanese oat milk but not a single cent to raise our pay–dear god please make the world make sense”, sunoo remarked.

“good morning to you too, sun”, you giggle and roll your eyes playfully, hand landing on his back for a friendly pat.

“girl, fuck you mean MORNING, it’s 12:30 PM”, niki sassed, with an eyebrow cocked in apparent protest.

you gave him a quick “shut up” with a sarcastic smile in response, as you put your hair up into a practical ponytail.

“oh yeah– the new staff dude is here today, he’s on toilet duty today though”, sunoo points out, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face.

“i don’t think he’ll be on toilet duty for long though! mr park seems to really like him and he really knows his way around coffee machines despite being new–”, niki commented, earning an interested “ooh” from sunoo while you just listened, your mind half focused on sorting out transaction receipts at the register.

“oh ya REAL, his latte art just now was so good– how the hell did he manage to make a swan in 30 seconds–”, sunoo added.

“right! like he even did it WHILE talking and chatting with mr jinyoung like what–”, niki gasped, almost as if he had just seen an out of touch celebrity.

ok, now you were intrigued. who is this seemingly OVER PERFECT barista?

“what’s his name?”, you butt in on niki and sunoo’s gossip.

as if on cue, a tall figure appears in your line of vision, rubber-gloved hands occupied with two buckets of cleaning supplies.

suddenly, you felt your world shatter right before you. it was an omen after all, a bad one at that.

“EYOO JUNGWON!”, niki greets the figure standing across you.

nah, you have GOT to be kidding me, you thought to yourself.

you avoided his eyes while the two guys who were previously around you made their way to surround the boy.

“jungwon, this is our FUTURE manager and ace: l/n y/n”, sunoo enthusiastically introduces you to him, dragging him by the arm.

“l/n y/n?”, he asks– suddenly that familiar sick feeling you had on the bus was returning.

you look at him, instinctively at the call of your name, and as if suddenly: a cloud of gloom settled over you two, and you were certain– the storm is just about to arrive.

“nice to meet you, jungwon”, you attempt a civil welcome, only to earn a scoff from the boy.

“alas, we meet again– l/n y/n”, he replies with a smug look on his face.

gasps erupt from your spectators: niki and sunoo, who watch intently at the interaction before them.

your stomach ties itself into knots, your eyebrows furrow and your smile flattens into a line. “great to see you too, yang jungwon”, you retaliate with nothing but pure sarcasm and utter disgust.

yep, the storm has DEFINITELY arrived and sights of sunshine are far, far, from near

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[tallerthantale]

What Does Aziraphale Actually Believe Part 10: Returning to Heaven

If you are currently avoiding Good Omens content right now because of the allegations against Neil Gaimen, (which I personally find both credible and damning) consider jumping to the end note rather than skipping this post.

This is a series of my takes on what Aziraphale believes through the timeline of the show. It is all my personal interpretation, and I am happy to hear others. You don’t need to read them all in order, but know that I am coming from a perspective on Aziraphale’s machinations that can be difficult for people without a psychology background to follow without the first two as a primer. The quick version is that Aziraphale has a set of beliefs that exist in some form or another within his mind. However, at any given moment, only some of them exist ‘with awareness.’ The context of the moment will determine what lives on the surface and what stays buried outside of Aziraphale's experience of consciousness, whatever arrangement best prevents a threat to Aziraphale’s sense of self and makes whatever he is inclined to do feel right.

Season Two Begins

Aziraphale is still not really acting like someone who rebelled against heaven. He's imagining himself as having a polite dispute with his colleagues, they just don’t send him on missions anymore and don't want his reports. As far as he sees it, the library is still an embassy (independent), and he is still a representative of God (independent). He is trying to maintain a semblance of the habits and routines he had when he was avowed by heaven, the familiarity is comforting, but there are limits to how much of it he can recreate. Some of what he’s missing he gets from Crowley, giving him reports instead. 

The sword of Damocles dropped, and Aziraphale remains ethereal. In many ways both he and Crowley are free to give up their tendencies to live double lives, but old habits die hard. During the lockdown, Aziraphale doesn’t want Crowley moving in, it doesn’t feel right yet. Crowley still feels a theoretical obligation to perform acts of demonic influence, even though he doesn’t actually want to. They have over 6000 years of earthly lived experience pushing themselves to go through the motions, and 4 years of something like freedom. They spent almost three times the time raising the wrong antichrist to write rude words on a description of a dinosaur. 

Aziraphale has the tools he needs to create a belief that he and Crowley can carve out a life together, but he is still sorting out the details. We start to see it in ‘our car’ and the implied ‘our shop.’ The ‘our car’ was presumptuous, and Aziraphale does take Crowley’s willingness to cave for granted in ways that are concerning, but there are some points of context that add depth to it. 1) Crowley actively enjoys complaining about things he isn't really bothered by and they both know it. 2) Bentley is sentient, and clearly considers Aziraphale a co-parent. 3) Aziraphale claiming Bentley as a joint asset seems to have prevented demons from entering uninvited.

I do think The Ball was Aziraphale's version of a confession, hoping they would dance, and talk things through as they danced. It’s not the best plan, because there are a ton of built up conversations they need to have with each other that are going to be hard to do with a room full of people as a backdrop. Even so, it could have been starting point for those conversations. He really is trying to make something happen, and he’s going at the preparations full steam while Crowley is still in ‘it’s not like that’ mode. I read Crowley's confusion as him personally being veeery asexual, and assuming all along that Aziraphale was the same. IMO, he was completely oblivious to possibility that Aziraphale could be comparatively allo, though there are many open interpretations.

The big jumps forward with Aziraphale’s understanding of his relationship to Crowley, the universe, humanity, and the world do not erase his older beliefs. They add to his options. As we get to the end of Season 2, he’s got a lot of options. As I went into at the start of this rambling mess, in a way Aziraphale still believes everything he has ever believed, no matter how self contradictory that gets. Some things are just deeper in storage than others. That said, I think we can talk about what his recently active beliefs are through the modern events of Season 2. In my opinion, this is where things stand in the mind of Aziraphale:

Angels are aligned with good in the abstract, demons with evil in the abstract, and they imperatively should act in accordance with that, even if often they descriptively don’t. 

This follows metaphysical (ethereal / occult ) categories, not professional roles, and therefore still applies to both Aziraphale and Crowley.

Crowley would be better off free of the obligation to be up to no good, and no longer being professionally a demon hasn’t done the trick.

God felled Crowley as a deliberate injustice in service of a bigger picture plan.

God plays games, but in the service of a greater good, and heaven ought to be aligned with Her purpose. Heaven is currently failing in that obligation.

Aziraphale still thinks he can intuit God’s will and is mostly aligned with it. 

Heaven is being run by angels that are out of line with God’s will, but they retain their angelic nature because they are too ignorant to be responsible for their failings.

He was able to successfully convince Gabriel and Beelzebub to cancel the war.

The institution of heaven is powerful enough to crush them both if diplomacy fails.

The bookshop and car are mutually owned by him and Crowley. Their earthly existence is for them both to share, and they mutually committed to defending it.

Aziraphale and Crowley’s life on earth is unprotected under heaven’s current leadership.

Aziraphale and Crowley are the only celestials with actual knowledge of good and evil.

Having that knowledge incurs a heavy moral responsibility to choose good.

Crowley chooses good more reliably than Aziraphale does.

All of these play into the Final Fifteen.

Angelic Status

I believe for most of their time on earth, Aziraphale has stopped just short of pursuing a proper courtship with Crowley because of their professional and existential positions on ‘opposite sides.’ By the end of the botched executions, the professional role wasn’t an excuse anymore, but in the lockdown special he still wouldn’t let Crowley move in. The existential ‘sides’ still mattered. By the Start of modern Season 2, I think he finally let that go. He was finally ready to fully not care that Crowley was a demon. That doesn’t mean they were actually on the same page about it conceptually though.

Aziraphale has pretty consistently struggled to understand Crowley’s demonic status the way Crowley would see it. While to Crowley it is his assumed identity, and his former angel self is like a deadname, (or my favorite term for it, his ‘cis-sona’) Aziraphale understands Crowley to be suffering unjustly under the temporary state of being currently classified as a demon. Yes, there are many ways this is enormously dismissive of Crowley and insensitive to Crowley. But that isn’t all that it is. Aziraphale doesn’t think the fall was right, and he never did. Sure, that's like, a baseline expectation for having compassion for Crowley, but the implications for how Aziraphale sees things are huge. 

There are a few options for how Aziraphale can process this opinion that he can roll through. I think sometimes he blames himself. Sometimes he just avoids thinking about it. Sometimes he thinks Crowley will just spontaneously go back to being an angel again, like it was a clerical error. Most of the time though, I think it’s about God playing games putting together the Ineffable Plan. Aziraphale has been no stranger to God allowing injustices, he considers the greater good, the end game. 

If God is playing a game unfairly casting Crowley out, perhaps it’s to prove a point by bringing him back. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is the better of the two of them, and he knows he hasn’t fallen. Heaven sentenced him to death, and it didn’t stop him from being an angel. And yet Crowely, his better half, is a demon. Crowley has parallels to Jesus that are probably not lost on Aziraphale. Crowley coming back as an angel and being put in authority over nearly every other angel in existence the way Aziraphale imagines it would be a vindication of Crowley as the ultimate martyr, and a fuck you to all the angels who looked down on him. See end note.

The issue remains that it isn’t the framing Crowley would give himself, and it is alarming that Aziraphale fails to be aware of that. Aziraphale has spent 6000 years in a sort of solipsism, where his intuition is what he looks through for understanding everything in the world. Sometimes he understands that other people will see things differently, and sometimes that slips. Divining his sense of self through intuition has benefit as a tool to free him from heaven’s brainwashing, but it also carries a risk of arrogant superiority and blind spots. Aziraphale still isn’t fully at peace when it comes to accepting that Crowley’s demonic status is an avowed identity, not a transient trial. And as I said in post 3, when you try to run on intuition in an area where you aren’t at peace with yourself, that will fuck your shit up harder than a sideways pineapple. 

The Final Fifteen: Return of the Mindfuckery

Aziraphale enters the conversation with The Metatron believing he wants to stay on earth, and that the leadership of heaven is not aligned with God's ineffable will. When The Metatron offers Aziraphale the position of supreme archangel, his belief that God is good and heaven ought to be aligned with God's will gets pulled to the surface, along with his conviction that he can intuit God's will, and confidence in his ability to make a difference, already inflated from setting in motion Ineffable Bureaucracy. That on its own isn’t enough. Aziraphale doesn’t want to leave his life on earth with Crowley behind, he has just started to be at peace building a life in Shades of Grey.

When The Metatron offers angelic status, it gives Aziraphale the option to believe The Metatron is endorsing Crowley as a vindicated martyr. It lets Aziraphale believe that the Metatron is on team Ineffable, and Aziraphale really will be given enough actual power to genuinely reform heaven. But it isn’t the only option it gives Aziraphale. There is a fork, and not just in the road. 

When The Metatron offers to sanction his relationship with Crowley, he goes out of his way to bring attention to how unsanctioned it used to be, how long it was like that, and how serious it still is. By bringing up Crowley and Aziraphale’s full history, The Metatron is reminding him of all the thousands of years of fear of discovery and instability. They could have been executed for it, they nearly were, they could order executions again, and they might work this time. He didn’t need to point out how long running their collaboration was, and he didn’t need to refer to it as a de facto partnership either. Offering to let Aziraphale take Crowley with him could have just been about the fact that they are clearly working together now. The way The Metatron highlighted their history provoked Aziraphale’s fear. 

Aziraphale may refuse to believe The Metatron really speaks for God, but he is afraid enough of him to get mindfucked about it given an attractive enough looking alternative. It is particularly telling of the level of mindfuckery at play that The Metatron describes Aziraphale as someone who is honest, and doesn’t just tell people what they want to hear, and Aziraphale accepts that. It would have taken work for Aziraphale to keep that red flag out of his awareness.

Where Aziraphale has resisted the mindfuckery of danger from The Institution of Heaven before, the alternative has been horrifying. Lie to thwart the archangels, or allow the murder of children. Defy The Institution, or participate in the destruction of the universe. He had no way forward that preserved his sense of self, and he took the least horrible of the options he had. Going back to heaven may not look like an ideal option, he doesn’t really want to leave the bookshop, but as the Metatron initially presents it, it's not conflicting with Aziraphale’s sense of self. Framed as an opportunity to reform heaven into his own ideal, it would conflict with Aziraphale’s sense of self to turn the offer down. 

Aziraphale sees this as an opportunity to make the universe right. I don’t think he believes it will be simple, easy, or guaranteed to work, I think he feels obligated to do everything he can to try. If there is even a chance, no matter how small, he has to try. He remembers Crowley being happy as an angel, but not that it was God that took the smile away. He remembers Crowley looking for ways to avoid his evil missions and be kind under hell's nose, but not that God tasked hell's minions with doing evil in the first place. He remembers that Crowley often chooses to do good, but not that to Crowley, the choices he was making were choosing to oppose the system, not aligning with God. Aziraphale has been able to think of Crowley as aligned with God’s Ineffable will. He has been thinking it more and more into the modern era. He concluded long ago that God would forgive Crowley. 

He forgot to consider that it is Crowley who would need to forgive God.

The Final Fifteen: Schrodinger's Threat

The Metatron has appeared before Aziraphale wearing dark colors, offering an oatmilk late, talking about experiencing the earthly world. This sets him apart from the other angels, it is a signal that he has also eaten the metaphorical apple, he is not naive to good and evil the way the other celestials are. Aziraphale's only points of reference for worldly celestials are himself and Crowley. He associates the knowledge and mixed black and white with the pursuit of nuanced ethics. He has no frame of reference for an entity that fully understands the nuances of ethics but chooses to impose dogmatic authoritarianism anyway.

The part of Aziraphale’s mind that lives outside of conscious awareness gets to decide between two realities. 1) The Metatron cannot be trusted, he is threatening him, plotting to destroy Crowley, nowhere is safe, there are no good options, Crowley won’t play along, ect… or, 2) The Metatron is actually aligned with God’s ineffable will just like he and Crowley are, and he and Crowley can fix heaven together and live happily and safely ever after. If your priority is picking the reality that is most palatable, that isn’t a hard choice. 

Remember, it isn’t a conscious choice. Aziraphale is not arguing in an internal monologue with himself that he is better off deciding to believe the naive thing, the parts of Aziraphale's mind that are outside of his awareness are preventing his conscious mind from seeing anything other than the naive thing. Every reason he has to not trust The Metatron didn’t load into his conscious awareness and instead fucked off to the Bermuda Triangle. The evidence The Metatron cannot be trusted wasn’t rejected or discounted, it functionally does not exist. Every reason he had to know Crowley would never go along with the plan did the same thing. 

Even his own memories of his own time in heaven fucked off. When Aziraphale said it would be “like the old times, only even nicer,” a lot of us had an initial reaction along the lines of, maybe it was nice for you, but not for Crowley. The thing is, that's backwards. The Star Queen was having a blast making the universe while Aziraphale was skittish and terrified. The good old times weren’t ever real for Aziraphale, they were what he had to imagine into existence to cope with existence. Aziraphale wants to put himself in a miserable position of responsibility that he will hate, in order to remake heaven into a place Crowley can be happy again.

Much of the theorizing I have seen around Aziraphale's behavior in the Final Fifteen assumes a dichotomy. As most people see it, the story must be one of two things, either Aziraphale sincerely believes The Metatron's offer, and sincerely wants Crowley to come back to heaven with him and be angels together doing good, and sincerely thought Crowley would go for it and be happy about it, OR he was so scared shitless by The Metatron that everything he is doing and saying is put on for their safety.

The horrifying truth of how our minds work is that there is no dichotomy. 

Aziraphale sincerely believed in the plan, sincerely believed Crowley would happily go for it, and sincerely remembered being in heaven as nice, BECAUSE he was scared shitless by The Metatron and had to buy into it for their safety. He had to genuinely believe those things to feel safe, so he did. I don't think The Metatron made any explicit threats or coercions. He didn't need to. Aziraphale's existential terror did all the work on its own, and it did the work without leaving a trail for Aziraphale’s conscious mind to see.

The Final Fifteen: An Uninformed Decision

Aziraphale had not been told about the plans for Armageddon 2.0, or why Gabriel lost his memory, or that he was risking getting stashed in a heavenly closet after being mind wiped for refusing to go along with The Institution. I have been frustrated with Crowley for not bringing this up. While my frustration with both of their poor communication skills continues, I noticed that Crowley probably thinks that he did bring it up.

In the bandstand argument, Crowley twice tries to make sarcastic logical incisions to get through to Aziraphale. “You should kill him yourself then, holierly.” “ Unforgivable, that's what I am.” He is saying these things to deconstruct what Aziraphale said before, not as face value statements. Aziraphale ignores the argument inside them both, treating them as face value non sequiturs and offering his own. 

In the Final Fifteen Crowley makes another sarcastic logical incision by saying “when heaven ends all life on earth, it will be just as dead as if hell had ended it.” Aziraphale picked a hell of a day to stop taking Crowley’s sarcastic incisions at face value, because as much as this is a sarcastic logical incision still, it is actually also face value this time. Crowley is telling Aziraphale that heaven is planning on ending all life on earth. Like, NOW. And given the way Aziraphale has interpreted him in the recent past, Crowley would reasonably expect him to follow along with that. 

Aziraphale thinks if he is in charge, he can put in place the plan he expressed in S1E4, celestials keep the earth running so humans can keep having free will. Aziraphale is not happy about it when The Metatron mentions the second coming. But he still doesn’t know that he is queuing himself up for the same fate as Gabriel, since Crowley skipped that point in his understandable frantic distress. I really do think it would have made a big difference in how the scene went down if it had come up.

In this series I have described Aziraphale's choice as a mistake, but I want to clarify what I think the mistake was, because it wasn't deciding to go back, not really. The mistake was how he brought the situation to Crowley.

Had Aziraphale refused to go, both of them could have been rapidly removed from existence. There is a very compelling case to be made that returning to heaven and trying to dismantle the system from the inside while playing along on the surface is their best option. The end of the universe ends everywhere, they are attached to the earth, and even with the combo miracles Aziraphale wouldn't have it in him to wage full on war against heaven with a diplomatic offer on the table. It's possible Crowley could have been moved by that argument, or it could have prompted Crowley into sharing about the memory wipes.

Realistically the situation was probably moving too fast to put a real strategy in place, and I don't think Crowley would take the elevator up either way, but the most hurtful part of the conversation is how long Aziraphale goes still presenting a return to heaven as unambiguously positive news, seemingly oblivious to how Crowley would take it, and how Crowley does take it standing in front of him. As strong an argument as there is for them to suffer the hardship in order to strategically dismantle the system from inside as the least bad option of what's available, Aziraphale does not make that argument. Crowley can't strategize with the version of Aziraphale who thinks The Metatron is on his side. I still fault Crowley for leaving the conversation when he did, as much as I understand why he felt he needed to.

I’m not going to go through the whole argument line by line, but I’m going to do a brief review of my impressions of Aziraphale’s more ambiguous statements. 

“You can be my second in command” They’re authorising me to be in charge, I will raise you as high as I can on paper, no one will be controlling you. 

“Nothing lasts forever” I’m willing to let go of my attachment to this bookshop if it will secure us a safe future together.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you” We can fully restructure the institution of heaven to be what we want it to be, for us and for the world we took responsibility for. You can have creative control over the reformation. We can be safe and together like we have wanted for 6000 years.

“Then there’s nothing more to say.” I respect your decision not to come with me. 

“I forgive you” for leaving me with the responsibility to fix heaven on my own. (But it was almost ‘I love you.’)

The Final Fifteen: The Aftermath

After Crowley leaves, what Aziraphale can load into his mind shifts again. He can see his fear, and that The Metatron is the source of it. All the reasons he has to not trust The Metatron come back, as do all the reasons why Crowley would obviously say no. The cascade of expressions Aziraphale runs through between Crowley leaving and the Metatron arriving are us witnessing the beliefs, opinions, judgements, and memories that are present in Aziraphale’s experience of consciousness being reformed into a different set. 

When the Metatron comes back, Aziraphale is functionally a different person, and this one doesn’t want to go. He tries very hard to soft no The Metatron. He really, really tries. It is the hardest part of the ending for me to watch by far. I don't think any instance of him was ever really ok with a version of events where he went back on his own. But I also think he fully expects to be smote on the spot if he actually says no, with Crowley smote soon after, and I don't think he is wrong.

For all the heartbreak of the ending, there are some optimistic points from across the span of my character study I want to highlight that I think are often overlooked. 

Aziraphale ideologically split himself off from The Institution of Heaven before Crowley got involved. 

He had a sense something wasn’t right even while the Star Queen was naive. 

He found his own way to form opinions for himself in the midst of an all powerful, rigid, oppressive system. 

He has played Crowley’s role performing political subterfuge temptation missions from hell who knows how many times. 

His perception that Crowley might want to be an angel again, while willfully ignorant and galling, didn’t come from nowhere. 

His tolerance and forgiveness of the other angels comes from infantilizing them, not respecting them. 

He was noticeably upset when The Metatron mentioned the Second Coming. 

Just as Aziraphale’s increasing stack of things he can believe doesn’t undo the imprint of his years of indoctrinated beliefs, The Metatron manipulating him into a disastrous mistake doesn’t undo the growth he has had, the tools he has developed, or the perspective he has gained. The last smile just as he steps into the lift is not sincere, and his stare inside at the end is a declaration of a kind of soft power war. We remember "but rescuing me makes him so happy," but the full line when Nina asks "Why don't you make your own plans?" starts with "Oh, I am."

Part 10/10

End note:

Due to a series of unfortunate events (or two), there was a considerable delay between the bulk of my "What does Aziraphale Actually Believe" series and the last instalment. While I initially felt very negatively about that, it also presented a particular opportunity, as I found myself reviewing the final draft details of The Metatron's manipulation tactics and how they messed with Aziraphale's mind at the same time as I was following the allegations against Neil Gaimen.

As things currently stand I find the allegations against Neil Gaimen very credible and very damning. Information is still coming out, but the odds of something being reviled that would change the gist of my opinion are very unlikely. I don't consider that to be cause to stop engaging with the fandom and analyzing the story. A lot of people who take that position frame it as separating the art from the artist. That is not the framing I use.

Typically I try to keep considerable distance between myself and anything that looks like psychoanalysing public figures. This because of a psychology ethics rule that I take on a broad interpretation of. The gist of it is to not form professional opinions about the psychology of specific people based on their public statements / works. Because what follows is skirting the edges of the spirit of those rules, I want to emphasise that it is my personal opinion, and I am coming at it more from literary analysis than any kind of Sherlockian attempt at deductive reasoning about the workings of a particular person's mind.

The narrative arc of Aziraphale's religious trauma, the way it plays out, the way his opinions bend and reform, the way he gaslights himself in the presence of The Metatron, the way The Metatron wields his power imbalance with a friendly disposition, the way the threats that are never framed as a threat mess with Aziraphale's mind, the way he convinces himself to be happy about what he is being forced into, the way his mind flips back and fourth based on the pressures of the people around him, the particular ways he is vulnerable to being subtly manipulated into appearing complicit in his own exploitation, the detail in how that plays out, these things were all written very well.

Or I should say, they were written very accurately.

The motivation I had to write the "What does Aziraphale Actually Believe" series was that a lot of the ways those features of exploitation were accurately depicted weren't picked up on by the general audience. Because they rang so true to life to me, but were not followed by so many, I sought to explain my understanding of Aziraphale's behaviour to people who weren't sure what to make of it. These mechanisms are often very counter intuitive, not understanding them is pretty normal, and the Final 15 stood out to me as having been written with a very unusually high level of understanding of how exploitative power dynamics operate in real life.

Which is to say…

If the author of Aziraphale's Season 2 narrative arc came to me, and told me that he just didn't realize how power disparities impact people, that he was trying his best and he just didn't understand, I would tell him to go fuck himself with a rake. I can get behind wanting more to be investigated, wanting more information to be corroborated, wanting to see the actual screenshots and emails. I have respect for people who still want more documentation. What I want to push back against is arguments from people who believe the conduct happened, but either think that it wasn't a big deal, that Gaimen could not have been expected to know better, or that he made an unfortunate mistake. Someone that oblivious would not have been able to write the story of Season 2. Someone getting called out for their abuse of power absolutely would claim they didn't know any better as an excuse, it's the most obvious excuse to make.

People who abuse power knowingly are often still able to create a pocket fantasy universe, conjuring sections of time during which they can believe their own lies. They can sit better with themselves and their own actions that way. That isn't the same as not knowing better, it is the most willful of all willful ignorance, and it can flip on and off like a switch. I haven't read Sandman, but the people who have may be able to say if it seems like the work was written by a person who understands that people can create their own pocket realities to live in, and jump into and out of.

One of the common things expressed by those coming forward is that they want people to know that they are absolutely confident Gaimen understood what he was doing. There was a moment in the "Am I Broken" podcast where the survivor made that point, and the host either didn't process what they were being told or dismissed it at the speed of light, pivoting to hoping this would be a learning opportunity for other clumsy people in power who are probably making the same mistakes. It was a very frustrating moment.

I understand it is confusing that the people who engage in serial predatory behavior can rationalize themselves into their fantasy narrative of events while simultaneously engaging in an intentional strategy. But it is what people do. Getting to believe they aren't doing the very thing they planed to do is part of the strategy, and part of how they are able to gaslight people so effectively. The answer to "do serial predators believe they are innocent or do they do it as a honed deliberate tactic?" is yes. Knowing that is key to spotting these patterns in real life.

[cipheramnesia]

The Menu, to me, is such a fascinating movie. I'm going to come back to it and watch the way it's filmed more carefully. but the first time through is such a tantalizing and layered discussion about work, wealth, and inevitably life under capitalism.

What I particularly love about it is that at a very surface level reading it offers a sort of "introduction to systemic inequality," an easy to swallow metaphor of humanity literally consumed by exploitation to the point of annihilation, wrapped around a peppy little survivor girl finale. For me, stripping away all the tasty deeper subtext, it still fulfills the most basic component of a popular film, which is "having a good time." You do not need to try and "get it," you can simply enjoy it by itself if you like.

However, as soon as we get into the finicky details of the movie, especially our "final girl," it starts to get really interesting because the initial surface metaphor starts to fall apart and demand a more complex level of thought. (This will feature some spoilers.)

What I find fascinating is that our protagonist is a sex worker. The entire grand metaphor proposed by our chief antagonist, the chef, is you can divide the world into the served and servers. He has arranged what he thinks is a perfect and flawless illustration of this grand truth, and one unforeseen change fully undermines his entire thesis. She's a worker who provides a service, she's someone getting served by workers in the process of that service. Her job and her life weaves between both worlds and although it's possible to make some larger sweeping generalization, to do so would take the nuance away from the lived reality of most people who are at once point or another both things. This undermining of the chef's thesis is very much the point of the movie, not to suggest there is no class or wealth inequality, but rather as an entry into moving past the surface level binary view of "haves and have nots" into a more complex idea of how wealth and power affects people in different places of the hierarchy.

The movie itself presents each new act as a new item on the menu, which is a well-considered choice, as each step forward reveals more information that builds the complexity of the ideas in the movie and whets your appetite to consider it further. The plot, the characters, and the action in the film progress in a way that mirrors the kind of experience the menus title cards before each segment are describing. The restaurant itself being totally isolated, with every employee committed to their jobs with a cultish intensity lays a groundwork for the production of the idea that individual lives are disposable not just in the literal sense, but metaphorically, a quick sketch of the modern expectations of a workforce by capitalist society to consider their personal lives as disposable in comparison to their jobs. Ralph Fiennes' casting as the chef adds a kind of metatextual level to the proceedings, as he himself is an aspirational actor for many other working actors in the film industry. The way he is worshiped by his devout employees while viewed as someone meant to perform on demand by his employers is the kind of deeper exchange that our modern hierarchy expects from us. You can find a higher place in the world so long as you are always willing to trade yourself to anyone who can afford to purchase you.

This level of exchange, where we as individuals are the actual consumable goods in some way is more at the heart of the Menu than a simple binary division of class. It is also the reason to have a protagonist who is, in a literally sense, her own medium of exchange. The surface metaphor of everything as transactional and finite is deliberately broken time and again, because the antagonist, a chef, is unable to see a world more complex than his own route of understanding it, through food and cooking. He sees everything as abstracted, consumable without any possibility of restoration, resources as something which can only be exchanged but never increased or distributed. He is not the villain in the movie, that role remains with characters like the stockbrokers, the old wealthy gentleman, and our protagonist's date for the evening. But he is the antagonist because of his fundamental idea of the world aligning with the villains (even while ostensibly there to kill them) and in conflict with the fundamentally reasonable position of our protagonist, that she ought to live.

I would enjoy dissecting The Menu scene by scene because there's simply so much going on in it, for me personally. I think there's something excruciatingly interesting to be said about the protagonist being a sex worker, in particular because the movie itself does not chose to view this in an exploitative way, but rather uses it to serve the larger idea that humanity cannot, in fact, be broken down into a consumable resource alone - that giving of yourself does not mean a loss to yourself. I also believe there is a distinct turning point in the movie where Ralph Fiennes sits down at a table, which is to me a huge change. It is the movie making an effort to draw a line under the real thesis, that even the antagonist who insists throughout the movie that he exclusively exists as one who serves, who gives himself up one bite at a time until he is exhausted, even he is someone who cannot exist in his own idea of a false binary.

The chef here is not wrong in recognizing the existence of exploitation, or even necessarily incorrect in his ideas of addressing it through violently usurping those in power. I would argue that overall the conclusion of The Menu doesn't disagree with the notion of hierarchical exploitation innate to modern society. If anything, it serves to illustrate even more how much this trend is ultimate a downward spiral of inevitable and total destruction.

However, it is a movie that is meant to be optimistic, a movie about hanging on to our human connections even when we have some exchange between each other. It's about caring for other people, caring about what they do for us, or caring about what we do for others. The conclusion, and our survivor girl, are a recognition of that hope and that potential which still exists.

(edited from bad casting memory)

[vashbug]

Dropped into No Man’s Land Ch 2

Summary: Vash has a hard time trusting you. You tell him about Earth. You realize something important.

Notes:  Chapter 2 of my silly Trigun Isekai fic. Okay, that's all I'm posting for today! I think two chapters is enough for now. I hope you enjoy :)

First Chapter: Here

Read on AO3: Here

***

You let out a nervous laugh as you watch Vash's face go from jovial, to curious, to suspicious in the span of a few seconds. He's taken a cautious step back, and suddenly you feel like he's looking at you as though he's calculating the trajectory of a bullet. Vash might be all too trusting, but he's not stupid, and you're an outlier in a world he knows almost everything about.

The moment drags on for a little too long, and you can see Vash's right hand twitch slightly at his side near his gun. You know he won't fatally harm you, but you sure don't want to get shot today. You make the mistake of sparing a quick glace at the holster strapped to his thigh, and it takes a millisecond for him to take that as a threat and draw, aiming directly between your eyes.

"Hey! Woah!" You put your hands up quickly. You know he's only doing this because he feels like you've deceived him, but the sight of his gun makes your blood run cold regardless.

"What are you," He asks, "and why are you here?" He's practically growling, and if you were watching him on TV, the tone in his voice would make you shiver. Instead, you feel like you might throw up.

"I'm human, I swear!" Your mind is struggling to process what is happening, and you're having a hard time finding the right words to defuse the situation. His glare is colder than you anticipated. "I told you the truth! I swear on my life."

Vash doesn't move a muscle as he stares you down. "Explain why you know who I am, then. I need to know if you're a threat to the people who live on this planet or not."

Ah, that's what this is. He couldn't give a shit whether or not you were here for him, he just wants to make sure you won't hurt anyone. Your mind clears somewhat and you're able to speak.

"Oh," you chuckle nervously. There's no point in hiding it now, whether he thinks you're insane or not. It's better than having him shoot you. "You're sort of... famous. In my time."

For the first time in a minute he moves, slightly lowering his gun. He looks surprised. "What?"

"Theres..." You need to phrase this in a way that makes sense, and in a way that doesn't make you so embarrassed that you beg him to shoot you. "There's a book about you. Where you're the main character. It's a... western, about a gunslinger named Vash The Stampede. He wears a red coat and travels from town to town helping people. Or trying to," you smile sheepishly.

He takes a moment to think this information over. "So in your... reality or whatever, there's a book about me? That you've read?"

"Yeah, I mean, it doesn't seem like it's entirely out there that at some point our realities have crossed, given that I'm here." You feel a lot more confident now that his gun isn't pointed directly between your eyes. "Maybe the author dreamed about you or something."

"How much does it say about me?" His curiosity is obvious now, though he's still trying to mask it with suspicion. His gun is lowered all the way down now, still in his hand.

"Oh, well, it... It says enough about you that I know who you are, but you seem a little different from the Vash in the book." He seems exactly like the Vash you know, but you're trying to save face a little, in case you get any details wrong.

"Okay..." He doesn't seem entirely convinced. "Then tell me something no one else knows about me."

This takes you by surprise. You didn't expect a quiz. You have to think for a moment. "Um, I know that Rem grew red geraniums."

He looks surprised again. "That's... That's not good enough. There are plenty of people who know that." His face says he's expecting another answer.

You feel sick to your stomach. You look him directly in the eye, so he knows that you're serious. You know what you have to say, but you desperately don't want to open old wounds.

"You saw something terrible; something when you were young, back on your ship." You eye him cautiously, careful with your words. "After you saw that, Knives was asleep, and Rem told you about the train, and the ticket..." You stop, sure this is enough. You don't dare to elaborate further.

It's Vash's turn to look sick. He carefully places his gun back in it's holster and sits heavily on the ground, his head dropped between his knees. "There's only a couple people that know that," he mutters.

Your heart aches for him, but at the same time you feel relief flood through you. You slump back and sigh. He raises his head and gives you an apologetic look. "Sorry, this is just so weird. When I realized you knew me, I was worried you were an alien... here to threaten humanity... or something." He looks ashamed, his cheeks red with embarrassment. It's obvious in the way his shoulders hunch forward that he feels bad about threatening you. "If it makes you feel any better," he pulls his gun back out and releases the cylinder with a click, showing you the inside. "I'm out of bullets."

You glance between him and his empty gun with your mouth open, not sure of what to say. Then you laugh-- a real laugh--and the sound makes his face brighten. "Damn it... you really are him."

He laughs as well, and for the first time since you've met you're both smiling at each other. He takes this as forgiveness and snaps his gun shut again, hiding it away once again. The two of you sit quietly for a while, watching the fire flicker in the dark, trying to process everything.

"So..." You look up at the sound of his voice and find him tracing circles in the sand with his prosthetic hand. He looks like a little kid about to ask their parents for something they're not supposed to have. "In this book... what other things do you know?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you," you say, trying to sound playful. Truthfully, you were worried about this. Would telling him too much alter the timeline? Was it even the same timeline?

"Please! Just a little!" He half-walks on his knees over to your side, lacing his hands together and giving you the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can manage. His big blue eyes sparkle with anticipation. "I just want to know a little, you don't have to tell me anything life-altering; nothing about the future."

You fold immediately. Damn it. "Okay, I'll tell you. But only the light stuff! I don't even know if this is the same timeline I know." He sits upright, legs crossed like a child ready for story-time.

So you tell him about his friends, mostly, steering clear of any major events. He knows Wolfwood, Meryl and Roberto already, but the timeline diverges slightly and he ends up separated from them, with plans to meet with them again after Vash makes a few stops. You don't have time to ask him for details, as he's playing 20 questions with you at break-neck speed. After a while you run out of things to tell him about, and he begins to ask about your timeline and your Earth.

"What's it really like there?" His eyes are wide, and he leans closer and closer with each answer you give him. "Is flora really everywhere? Do you really watch movies? And just how many people are in your town?" He hangs on every word you say, and the fire begins to die from neglect.

"Well, flora really is sort of everywhere, except for in the desert, but even then there's specific vegetation there." You're careful not to use the word plant in this context. "And I do watch movies... And..." You have to think for a moment. "There are about 9 million people in my city? It's one of the biggest." You have to guess the population size.

His already wide eyes grow even wider. "9 million... In just one city." He thinks about it for a moment, and then his tone turns quiet and serious. "Is it... peaceful?"

You know the answer he is hoping for by the look on his face.

Your heart throbs painfully in your chest. "Well..." You look down at your hands. "It's more peaceful than here." You give him a weak smile, and you know it's not convincing. "It's not the same as here, really. I mean, I don't think you can even compare the two. People have more peaceful days than not, depending on where you live, I guess." You quickly realize you're not cut out for this conversation; you're not sure how to explain that there are so many contradictions in your life on Earth.

You look at his face in the dying firelight. For the first time since meeting him here, you see that familiar look, the one that exposes just how old and tired he truly is. You're not sure if he's disappointed with your answer, and you don't have the heart to ask.

"But," you continue, reaching over and taking his hand in yours. You figure you know him well enough to do this much. "People are mostly good. And we all help each other when we can. There are so many people from my Earth that are trying to make it a better place. I forget sometimes, that the Earth is a good place. It is... It's beautiful." You smile at him, this time genuinely. One of your hands holds his right, the other tracing circles into his palm. You notice that his hands are bigger than yours.

His eyes search your face, and while his expression is still worn-down, something else is there. Surprise? Curiosity? You can't place the feeling.

"Rem would have really liked you," he says quietly, looking down at his hand in yours. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but she wanted the world to be a better place. She wanted everyone to get along, just like that." His voice hitches slightly in his throat.

You're surprised at the mention of Rem, and suddenly you're keenly aware of your hands, your finger tracing it's slow circles over his gloved palm. You know it's a huge compliment--an honor, really--to be compared to Rem. Your face turns hot, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You can feel him looking at you, but you can't meet his eyes. You have to change the subject.

"The fire..." You glance at the dying coals. "We should probably keep it going, it's getting cold." You pull your hands away so you can wrap them around yourself.

"Ah!" Vash looks as though something in him has snapped back into place as he makes a show of fussing over the fire. He seems like his usual, cheerful self as he pushes sticks and kindling into place. The fire comes back to life, and you're both bathed in the warm glow.

"Thank you," he says into the fire after a while. "For telling me about Earth. I hope you get back there someday. It sounds like a wonderful place." He turns his head to look at you as he says this, a smile that reaches his eyes spreading across his face.

He is so sincere it makes you want to cry again. You're not sure if you want to curl up in his jacket or curl up in his arms. He's still smiling at you, and you're sure he knows exactly what effect he has on people. Several thoughts cross your mind, all of them having to do with touching him or kissing him, and you have to fight to hold down your embarrassment. You decide it would be best not to act on any of them, though he's still looking at you, and he's so close...

Instead, you pick up your cracked phone and look at it once more, Idly turning it over in your hands. You concentrate on picking the sand out of the crevices, trying not to think about Vash. You look at the cracks in the screen, thinking it would probably still work if you could get it to turn on. You know you won't get a signal, but you'd at least have whatever is saved on it...

You exclaim so loudly Vash nearly falls into the fire.

"Ah! What that hell? What is it?"

You ignore him as he watches you scramble on all fours behind him, reaching for your bag. "My laptop!" You pull it out of your bag and brush the sand off of it, frantically opening it and pressing the power button. "Come on..." You plead. Please turn on.

Vash moves to sit behind you so he can look over your shoulder, obviously curious about your strange tech. His proximity is dangerous, with his chest practically pressing into your shoulder, but you don't have time to think about that.

You have to contain a shout when the screen blinks on. You can't believe it. It's working. You sort through your files and find that everything is unchanged, and this fact brings a small comfort to you. A piece of home.

But more importantly, you're looking for something. You search your downloads folder for the file. Vash watches you without making a sound; his gaze could drill a hole through your face and hands.

And there it is. Thank god for poor reception on the subway! If you really want to read something on the way home, you have to download it and send it to your phone so the poor cell reception doesn't prevent the next chapter from loading.

The fic your friend sent you, the one you didn't finish, sits in your downloads. The absurdity of it makes you laugh and nearly tear your hair out. Vash looks at you, concern and confusion written across his face.

You scan through the pages you've already read, heart thrumming in your chest.

Your hunch was correct. The events of this world, the one you've fallen into, aren't following the plot of the original. No, they're following this specific story. Vash separating from his friends, on his way to Octovern to buy gun parts; it can't be a coincidence. You've fallen into the story you were reading when the car hit you, right where you left off.

If you can't get back home, you'll need a way to protect yourself.

It doesn't seem like much, but with your combined knowledge of the original story, this is the closest thing to a weapon you have here. You might as well be able to tell the future.

This is it. This is how you'll survive.

[chicaotaku-fanfics]

There's Three of You?! Pt. 11

New chapter finally, I'll confess that school has gotten in the way (not in the traditional way I expected), but it's getting sorted out. I hope that, by Monday, my school mess's fixed.

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 11

Another normal day at the hospital, patients to see, charts to make, the usual. I had just finished with a consult and decided to take a quick break to grab a bite from one of the food trucks outside of the hospital. I managed to arrive right after Ethan, I had him, Reese, April and Connor in front of me, the last one being the first to notice my arrival.

“Korean Spanish fusion?” Asked Reese.

“Oh, yeah, the short rib and chorizo burrito is delicious” answered Connor.

“What if you’re a vegetarian?” The med student asked, I chuckled lightly.

Connor’s getting interrogated today. I thought, he gave me a stinky eye and I tried to contain my laughter.

“Then I would go with the tofu kimchi quesadilla.” He said, Reese just looked at him and placed her order.

“Can I have a garden salad, please?” She asked the server.

“Yeah.” The man answered, Connor looked at her with incredulity in his eyes, not believing what just happened.

“What? You said get anything I want.” She answered, I chuckled at the surgeon’s misfortune.

April got her order and took a picture of it. Ethan apparently decided in the last minute that he didn’t want anything, so he gave me his place on the line.

“Dr. Halstead, nice of you to join us.” Said Connor, I smiled at him.

“Why thank you Dr. Rhodes.” I answered sincerely. He turned to the side and spoke a bit louder.

“Hey, Will, you sure you good?” He asked my brother. I turned to the side to notice Will standing next to Natalie.

“Yeah, I brought something from home.” He lied through his teeth.

“No you didn’t!” I exclaimed, he looked at me as if I’d murdered his dog, I shrugged. “It’s the truth Will, sorry for being honest.” I added, then turned to look at Connor. “Don’t listen to him. I’ll get that tofu kimchi quesadilla, and for my stubborn elder brother, the short rib and chorizo burrito, please and thank you.” I said, Connor nodded and looked at the server.

“You heard the lady, man.” He said, the man looked at him and then at me.

“Coming right up.” He said.

“Thank you very much.” I said, then turned to look at Connor, moving to take my wallet out. “How much do I owe you?” I asked him.

“Nothing at all Lilly. My treat.” He answered, I side hugged him.

“You are too good for this world.” I said to him, he hugged me back, chuckling at my words.

“It’s $75.50 total.” Said the server, Connor walked over and paid with a $100.

“Hey, thanks a lot man.” Connor said, and at that exact moment, our orders came up.

I took mine and Will’s and walked over to him.

“Here. Eat.” I said to him, handing him his burrito, Will gave me a look. “Don’t look at me like that mister, just eat.” I said, he took the burrito reluctantly and gave it a bite. I smiled and started eating my own lunch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Said Will, I just shrugged.

“I think I did. I saw your fridge earlier this morning, what were you gonna bring? Expored yogurt and baking soda?” I asked him, he made the motion to hit me behind the head.

“I’m going to kill you Lilly.” He joked.

“No you’re not. You love me too much to do it.” I said, then gave my quesadilla another big bite.

“What is that?” Will turned his attention to Natalie, and the tupper she had on her lap.

The hell is that?! I thought, looking at the stuff inside the container.

“It’s some cabbage kale thing. I promised my mother-in-law I would try it, so…” and she actually took a bite. Just a second later, Natalie’s expression changed, showing her disgust. “Oh. Ugh…” she added, making a face.

Will chuckled a bit, I was trying not to gag, so I turned to look the other way. I moved towards the garbage can, literally giving my quesadilla the last bite. I took a napkin and cleaned my hands and face.

Just as I threw my dirty napkin in the bin, my pager beeped, and Maggie came running towards us.

“Shooting in a movie theater. Mass casualties. About to get crazy. EMT four minutes out.” She exclaimed, and just like that, we saw the ambulances arrive, their sirens blearing.

“Looks like they beat those four minutes.” I said.

“Check that. They’re here.” said Will at the same time.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Maggie exclaimed. We all ran inside the hospital, sanitized our hands and grabbed gloves. “I need two” she added, some other doctors walked up to her and took the first patients.

“Another maniac going crazy in a theater. This the world we live in?” asked Will while walking towards a patient and putting on his remaining glove, I could only say one thing before focusing on the job.

“Unfortunately it seems that way Will. Now, less talking, more doctoring.” I said, he let out a little Halstead Chuckle® at my chosen word.

“Maggie! Trigger disaster plan, get ortho, neuro, walk-ins can wait.” said Ms. Goodwin, our chief nurse gave an affirmative response.

“Got it. What do we got?” Maggie then asked the paramedics as they rollen in the patients.

I had already treated one of the first patients in, a man with a dislocated shoulder, when in came Sylvie and Chilli with a woman and her kid, Connor and I went straight to them.

“Lucy Simms, 34, unresponsive. Flaccid, agonal breathing. Tubed her without drugs.” said the blond paramedic, Connor was already looking at her.

“Trauma 2.” said Maggie.

“The boy hurt?” Connor and I asked at the same time.

“He was never touched. Mom was literally a human shield. Dad's in the ambo behind us.” said Chilli, who had the boy in his arms.

“Let’s do this, Connor take the mom, I take the boy.” I said, moving away from the gurney so it could continue its path to the treating room, and extended my arms for the other brunette to give me the kid, she did.

“You heard Dr. Halstead. Lilly, take care of him until Dad arrives.” Connor said.

“No need to say it twice. Good luck” I said to my friend, then turned my attention to the kid. “Hey sweetie, I’m Dr. Lilly, and I’ll stay with you until Daddy gets here, ok?” I asked him with a calm and sweet voice, he nodded. 

I went to the kids area with him and we started playing, I also made sure to include some of the other kids who were there. Many of them started asking questions to me about being a doctor, and I answered as honestly as a doctor could to kids without breaking the illusion.

Sometime later Maggie came over with the father of the boy, Max -as the kid introduced himself- hadn’t notice him, so I took it upon myself to help.

“Hey Max, look. Daddy’s here.” I said, pointing towards his Dad, Max looked up and a big smile made room on his face.

“DADDY!” he exclaimed, standing up and running to his dad, I smiled.

“Max!” said the man, I stood up to go to him. As soon as I did, all the kids started saying «bye» to me, as if they were members of a choir, it was so cute.

“Bye kids, behave, ok?” I said to all of them, they all agreed, it was adorable.

The parents all looked at me with relief and gratitude, all I could do was nod in return with a smile on my face. I walked towards the entrance to the ED and turned to address everyone there.

“Hi everyone, I’m Dr. Halstead. On behalf of the entire ED, I want to thank you all for your patience, and understanding, as well as your collaboration during this times of crisis.” I said to everyone in the waiting room. Most people nodded, other smiled, and then I heard both, my pager and Connor calling for me.

“HALSTEAD!” Connor’s voice made itself heard all the way to the waiting room. I think the way my expression changed was enough for the people to know that the day wasn’t over yet.

“Go be a hero miss doctor” said one of the kids, I coo internally. Many of the adults did coo at his cute sentence, I looked at him with a smile on my face.

“I will.” I said, then turned and ran towards my colleague and my brother. “What do we got?” I asked as I grabbed my protective glasses and a pair of gloves, already being near the gurney.

“17-year-old male. GCS six, multiple GSWs to the abdomen. Two large bore IVs. Tachy's at 160. Pressure's marginal.” said one of the paramedics.

“Baghdad turned over?” asked Connor.

“Yeah, it's all yours.” said Ethan, Connor and I looked at each other, then we nodded.

“ Reese! Stay with us.” I said, when I saw the girl in the hall.

“All right. On my count. One, two, three.” said Connor, we all lifted the board to switch it over to the bed. “All right, check for breath sounds.” as soon as one of the nurses had helped me with the gown, I did as told.

“This the shooter?” asked Will, as he was been helped with the same process for the gown. The paramedic just nodded.

“Don't knock yourself out over this one.” he said, I just looked at him.

This’s got to be a joke. He’s human, no matter what he’s done.

“Yeah, we got it from here, thanks.” said Connor with some heat in his voice, I mirrored the sentiment with the glare I gave the paramedic.

“Breath sounds bilaterally.” I said, just then one of the monitors started beeping rapidly.

“Can't even go to the movies anymore.” said my brother, I just wanted to slap him behind the head.

“Doctor.” said one of the nurses, now the monitor started to flatline.

Not good.

“No pulse. Reese?” said Connor. Implicitly giving the order to start CPR.

“On it.” she said, starting compressions on the patient.

“He's bleeding into his belly.” I said.

“We need to clamp the aorta to keep whatever blood he has left going into his heart and brain.” said Connor, I passed him the necessary equipment to do the procedure.

“You're gonna crack the chest here?” asked Will, just as Connor started doing just that, me helping him.

“Yeah.” said the surgeon.

“It's futile. What, are you just practicing your thoracotomies?” asked Will.

“Actually, I’m trying to save his life.” Connor and I said at the same time.

“Aw, the heart's empty.” said the surgeon.

“Pump the blood with the level one now.” I ordered.

“Give me the tubing, I'll run it through the groin here.” said Will.

“All right. Aorta's cross-clamped.” said Connor.

“Clock starts now. We have 30 minutes to find out where he is bleeding from.” I said.

“Call the OR, tell them that we're on our way up with an open chest and a gunshot to the belly.” said Connor, we both raised the rails on the sides of the gurney.

“Good luck.” said Will.

“I'll let you write it up in JAMA when he pulls through.” said Connor, I moved for the nurses and Connor to be able to leave. “Let's go.” he added.

I turned to look at Will as I was ripping of my gown, he did the same. As he also took his gloves, I slapped him in the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he asked, offended.

“Let me remind you, that no matter what he did, the boy’s a patient here. Our job is to provide care to patients. Don’t you forget it.” I said, mad at him.

After that literal shitstorm had passed, I learned from Will that Lucy Simps -Max’s mother- was braindead and the father had given consent to remove her from the ventilator. It was sad, knowing that Max, sweet and playful little Max, wouldn’t see his mom ever again. Suddenly, many people started cheering and clapping, I raised my head and turned to the commotion. It was the teacher who had shot the shooter at the theater.

“We need more guys like that.” said Will next to Maggie and me.

“Right.” said the nurse, not as thrilled as I thought she would be, but I understood the sentiment.

Something’s not adding up here.

[tzigone]

Headcanon reboot - super tech for the masses

So one of the aspects of my headcanon reboot is that it kinds ends - people age and retire, we don't have to keep villains in play (the reformed ones stay reformed) and so on. And one thing I started playing with is that this world doesn't have to stay like our world. I completely understand why it does in the comics, and I do think it a good business decision, but this is just for fun, not money, so I can make characters do logical things.

So, when someone invents a potentially world-changing and fortune-making technology, it can actually be mass-produced, used by ordinary people, and change the world. Instead of being confined to heroes and villains with no proper reason given (because it would make the world our heroes operate in unrecognizable and be a barrier to entry for new readers).

Please do forgive me if I've misremembered the details on how these techs work. Or if they've been given multiple explanations, chime in with others.

Chronologically, the first one I have on my list is Ray Palmer/The Atom's tech (shrinking things or people and with the ability to alter mass while in shrunken state). This would be circa 2001. Originally he was thinking about how, with everything shrunk, farmers could grow more and freight trains transport more. But the tech only worked on him, so he wasn't ready to publish. But later, he did manage to get it work on others...and still never published or put it out in the world. At least, he unshrunk the Hawks. It's been a long time since I read it. Hope I'm not misremembering the details and that wasn't another "it only works this one time" sort of thing.

In this universe, he will. He's still a graduate student, so I guess we know what his thesis is. I'm undecided on whether to make the lens still made from white dwarf star (which makes no sense) or make it regular lens inspired by the idea of a white dwarf star (which also makes no sense, but lends itself to the mass use he was thinking about, since material for the lens would be available). A lens (that he crafted himself, so the precision shouldn't be an issue), a control panel, and an ultraviolet light - doesn't like it should be too expensive to manufacture (though end-user price may still be very high at first depending on supply and demand). I was modeling IP treatment after Yale's for compensation, but I don't really know how universities deal with tech patents like that - sell or license the patent and would licenses be exclusive? Anyway, he'll have a hell of thesis. But the rest of the comments on him are only relevant if the tech goes mainstream. Then he started traveling through phone lines. That has even more massive implications for goods transport (I haven't really put any thought into the agriculture, I admit - just transport). But it's not going to happen overnight. I would expect massive regulatory hurdles. Safety tests (both on goods shrunk and people). And if they use phone travel, there's other safety issues to be addressed. Do they use the same phone network? What about infrastructure improvement? Obviously some countries will move more quickly than others and some will be more likely to respect the patent than others. The mid and long-term effects as the tech actually goes mainstream - takes time for factories to be built or modified but it will happen. I could still see lots of loading and unloading jobs, of course. Eventually expect your Walmart's to have their own and get things shipped to them that way. Businesses like gas stations may still be getting last mile delivery of chips, but the number of truckers should go down a lot, so there's unemployment in that field. Not mention trains and shipping companies and ports. Recession time? Some countries even heavily hit. Job rearrangement from things it's more profitable to outsource now that shipping is so quick and cheap. This could really impact commuting. Many people love cities for the entertainment, etc. But then you have the folks with hour and half commutes from the suburbs. It may not be affordable to the average person to own their own for a long time (so they can dial a phone, shrink, then their desk phone auto-answers and they unshrink and thus have a 30-second commute), but bus-depot like places could allow someone in Lawrence, KS to park their car (pay a parking fee), shrink and transport the location a 5-minute walk from their work in Manhattan instead of having a more expensive home closer by. I find decoupling employment location from living location interesting (and often discussed in regards to remote work), but I'm not sure how much it'd happen. More useful for long trips than short ones, of course. We have to think about security implications (especially if used internationally). Gotta check passports, go through customs, etc. Could someone send a bomb via phone line? This is pretty fantastical tech to start with, but with the ability to not decrease mass, would it still have full explosive power - I really don't know how various bombs work.

Next up is Karen Beecher/Bumblebee in 2003. I am not using her shrinking, as I think it makes to much like Wasp. But from one of the guides, it was said the antennae of her costume were solar panels and that's what allowed her to user her mechanical wings and fly. That kind of solar panel and battery would make massive, massive impacts (I'm assuming it's easy to scale up/down). And quite likely move though regulation way more quickly than Ray's tech. Solar panels and batteries already exist. Now, like so many comic heroes (and villains), she's a genius, but she's still just a teenager (and not a wealthy one) when she builds it, so it should be very affordable to produce (possibly only a couple thousand dollars retail for car-size setup once competition is in place). She was on the Teen Titans with Roy, and Ollie is all for the environment, so Queen will be the first company introduced to her tech, and the first to license it. Non-exclusive licenses all the way (which Ollie is happy with and spreading the news himself, as it suits his personality). The solar panels are great for houses and cars and factories, but the batteries should end up all over the place - cell phones, children's toys, remote controls, etc. It'll take to time to get production chains in place, but she's going to be a billionaire very quickly. Geolpolitical consequnces are again rampant - based on who produces oil, who refines oil, who has the contracts for mining the material, where production factories are, etc.

Flash has some genuisy rogues who reformed (fora while) and they come later. As this universe doesn't have to keep them in play, I'm not flip-flopping them - if they reform, they reform. So I may have Captain Cold and The Trickster in play. The Trickster has anti-grav tech. I'm not sure how much planes are still in play, but it's a thought. Might be moving furniture around. Finally have flying cars (with regulations/mechanical restrictions that people will try to get around)? Now, Cold had freeze gun. A nice safe one that has no negative consequences. Good for home protection, since it doesn't really matter if you accidentally shoot your kid. And could you just have the ambulance arrive, freeze the patient and transport them to a hospital? That would effect EMT jobs. I'm not going to have the gun do some the wackier stuff (like de-aging someone - wow what a tech to to introduce).

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by James Russell Miller

The Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1-9;18-23)

Jesus was always teaching. On this particular day His pulpit was a fishing boat, from which He spoke to the multitudes standing on the shore. Perhaps there was a sower somewhere in sight, walking on his field, carrying his bag of grain and slinging his seed broadcast. The sight may have suggested the parable.

“Behold, a sower went forth to sow.” Christ Himself is the great Sower but we all are sowers sowers of something. Not all who sow, scatter good seed; there are sowers of evil as well as of good. We should take heed what we sow, for we shall gather the harvest into our own bosom at the last. “ Whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap” that, and not something else (Galatians 6:7).

In the parable the seed is good it is the Word of God. The soil likewise is good it is all alike, in the same field. The difference is in the condition of the soil .

The first thing that strikes us in reading the parable, is the great amount of waste of good there seems to be in the world. On three parts of the soil nothing came to harvest. We think of the enormous waste there is in the Lord’s work, in the precious seed of Divine truth which is scattered in the world. What comes of all the sermons, of all good teaching, of the wholesome words spoken in people’s ears in conversation, of wise sayings in books? What waste of effort there is whenever ever men and women try to do good! Yet we must not be discouraged or hindered in our sowing. We should go on scattering the good seek everywhere, whether it all grows to ripeness or not. Even the seed that seems to fail may do good in some way other than we intended and thus not be altogether lost.

The wayside is too hard to take in the seed that falls upon it. There are many lives that are rendered incapable of fruitfulness in the same way. They are trodden down by passing feet. Too many people let their hearts become like an open common. They have no fence about them. They shut nothing out. They read all sorts of books, have all kinds of companions, and allow all manner of vagrant thoughts to troop over the fields. The result is that the hearts, once tender and sensitive to every good influence, become impervious to spiritual impressions. They feel nothing. They sit in church, and the hymns, the Scripture Word and exhortations, the appeals and the prayers fall upon their ears but are not even heard! Or, of they are heard, they are not taken into the mind or heart but lie on the surface.

“The birds came.” The birds always follow the sower, and when a seed lies within sight they pick it up. The wicked one “snatches away that which has been sown.” So nothing comes of the seed which falls on the trodden wayside.

The lesson at this point is very practical. It teaches our responsibility for the receiving of the truth which touches our life, in whatever way it is brought to us. When we read or listen we should let the word into our heart. We should give attention to it. We should see that it is fixed in our memory. “Your word have I hid in my heart,” said an old psalm writer (Psalms 119:11).

The next kind of soil on which the seed fell was stony only a thin layer of soil over a hard rock. There is none of the fault of the trodden wayside here. The seed is readily received and at once begins to grow. But it never comes to anything. The soil is too shallow. The roots get no chance to strike down. The grain starts finely but the hot sun burns up the tender growths because they lack depth of rooting .

There are many shallow lives. They are very impressionable. They attend a revival service and straightway they are moved emotionally and begin with great earnestness. But in a few days the effect is all worn off. Life is full of this impulsive zeal or piety which starts off with great glow but soon tires. Many people begin a holy book, read a few chapters, and then drop it and turn to another. They are quick friends, loving at first but it is soon over.

One of the pictures of the crucifixion represents the scene of Calvary after the body of Jesus had been taken down and laid away in the grave. The crowd is gone. Only the ghastly memorials of the terrible day remain. Off to one side of the picture is a donkey nibbling at some withered palm branches. Thus the artist pictures the fickleness of human fame. Only five days before, palms were waved in wild exultation as Jesus rode into the city.

The goodness of too many people lacks root. The resolves of too many lack purpose. The intentions of too many lack life and energy. There are many shallow lives in which nothing good grows to ripeness. What this soil needs is the breaking up of the rock. What these shallow lives need is a thorough work of penitence, heart-searching and heart-breaking, the deepening of the spiritual life.

The third piece of soil in which the seed fell was preoccupied by thorns whose roots never had been altogether extirpated. The soil was neither hard nor shallow but it was too full. The seed began to grow but other things were growing alongside of it, and these, being more rank than the wheat and growing faster, choked it out.

Jesus tells us what these thorns of the parable stand for. They are the cares, riches and pleasures of this world. CARES are worries, frets, and distractions. Many people seem almost to enjoy worrying. But worries are among the thorns which crowd out the good. Martha is an illustration of the danger of care (see Luke 10:40, Luke 10:41). There are plenty of modern examples, however, and we scarcely need to recall such an ancient case as hers.

RICHES, too, are thorns which often choke out the good in people’s lives. One may be rich and his heart yet remain tender and full of the sweetest and best things. But when the love of money gets into a heart it crowds out the love of God, and the love of man, and all beautiful things. Judas is a fearful example. The story of Demas also illustrates the same danger. A godly man said to a friend: “If you ever see me beginning to get rich, pray for my soul.”

The PLEASURES of the world are also thorns which crowd out the good. It is well to have amusements but we must guard lest they come to possess our heart. We are not to live to have pleasures; we are to have pleasures, only to help us to live.

The fourth piece of soil was altogether good. It was neither trodden down, nor shallow, nor thorny; it was deep plowed and clean. Into it the seed fell and sank and grew without hindrance. By and by a great harvest waved on the field.

This is the ideal for all good farming. The farmer must have his field in condition to receive the seed and to give it a chance to grow. That is all the good seed needs. This is the ideal, too, for all hearing of the Word of God. If only we give it a fair chance in our life it will yield rich blessing.

[letters-from-dekarios]

[Roux is a human thief who worked for the Guild. He is cold and impersonal on the outside but very affectionate when he likes someone. He romanced Gale but didn't accept the proposal because he had his own stuff to figure out. The letter is written in a scratchy hand, with ink smears and crossed-out letters indicating that it was written rather hastily]

Dearest Gale,

I hope you're doing well. Professorship suits you, I think. I never got to go to school but in my entirely unbiased opinion you make an amazing teacher. I hope you can actually read this, since I know my writing isn't exactly up to snuff, but if you can't then I'm sure you'll spare my feelings somehow.

Baldur's Gate is as busy as ever, although being a hero certainly has its perks. It's weird- people buy me drinks and stuff, now. People know my name and they respect it. Important people want to talk to me, and want my help making decisions.

I don't know if I like it all the time.

Not to be bitter, but must of these nobles would've spit on me a year ago, and the only reason they'll listen to a street rat is because I saved their sorry arses. Oh well, at least I can help some people while I'm at it. Wyll says hello, by the way, but he already writes to you enough, so I'm sure you know that.

I do wonder about your tower, sometimes. Everything you told me made it seem apart from the world, in some pocket of peace that all the chaos couldn't touch. I'd welcome some peace, I think.

I spent my whole life being a sticky-fingered kid, stealing to get by, but you made me feel like more than that. You treated me like a person- a person that mattered.

I'm not good at letters. I know I've been dancing around it for a while, and it only took me so long to write because I was putting it off. I'm sorry about that. But... I still love you. That never went away. I miss having you tell me about anything and everything and nothing at all. I miss having someone hold my hand.

I won't say that I regret my decision- because that would be a lie and I'm trying not to lie so much these days. I needed a little while to figure out who I am what I want.

And... Well, what I want is you. I need you. I need peace. I need to stay in one place, for a while. I understand if our leaving left a sour taste in your mouth. If you want nothing to do with me I won't push you. But if you do want me... Well, I don't own much in the way of material possessions. It wouldn't be that hard to move to Waterdeep.

-Yours, Roux

Dearest Roux,

I am glad to hear from you! It has been awfully too long since we last spoke. At times, I find myself missing the presence you held when we’d camp together. Though I do prefer not having a tadpole to worry of.

Blackstaff is treating me rather well! Though that is no surprise to even the most knowledgeable man. I have taken a quick liking to my work and as most would say, “fit right in”. I walk the halls with the reminder of my history here, and it brings me comfort to remember that I was once much like the very students I teach today. This is about the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever experienced, second only to saving Faerûn.

Baldur’s Gate hasn’t known an ounce of calm peace in decades. But, regardless, they try and feign normalcy after an event as huge as we had conquered. Being a “hero” of sorts is never easy to get used to. I feel as though one can only continue chasing that feeling of “more” as though you must continue with your acts of service to consider yourself worthy of the praise being received.

Nobles spit on anyone they consider lower than they. They’ll even spit on other nobles if given the chance. The opinions they hold in the grand scheme of things should, in all reality, mean nothing. But I do understand the point you draw. It’s an odd experience to have people who’d kill you now kill for you. One does not simply “adjust” to that.

Your words bring a sadness to my heart. The backgrounds of us all were much to be contested with. Look at the likes of Astarion, or Karlach, for example. You, out of all of us, certainly mattered. Without you, I’m sure the rest of us would have either died or been sent back to the hells we came from. I’m sure I would’ve exploded in the midst of the Weave and my memory would’ve long faded without you. I couldn’t be more grateful for your existence and your kindness.

Roux… I have not the words I need to reply to you. What I can say, however, is this; I never stopped loving you. Through it all, I still find myself aching for your presence beside me. I am not mad at you for leaving, I would be a selfish bastard to be angry with you for that. And, quite frankly, I’ve tried to swear off being a selfish bastard after my last consequences.

I cannot blame you for needing time. For needing space. After saving all of Faerûn, it’s only reasonable to need time to understand where you’re at and who you’ve become. It is not within my rights to hold any kind of a grudge after all you’ve done for me. I would wait decades for you, Roux. I would curse the gods for immortality if it meant I’d have you at the end of it all. I would devote my dying breath to your highest altar just to have a glimpse of what could have been.

Perhaps that is idiotic of me. Perhaps you will be thinking I shouldn’t hold onto such a thing for that long. I cannot deny the inclinations of my heart, I never have been able to do that. I cannot tie my heart to yours and cut it off so easily. I am not capable of such an act.

Whatever you have to give, whatever you want to give, all of it will be more than enough. Your association at my side is more than I could ever need in this lifetime and the next. If I am to be reincarnated after death, I shall find you then too. You are all I have ever wanted and all I will ever desire. With you, my breath catches and my heart swells with joy. I have never met a person so comfortable to be around.

You, Roux, will always have a space within my home, my mind, and most especially my heart. Whatever you need, whatever your desire, I shall fulfill it to the best of my ability. However you are, however you come, I will take you in. You are most here in Waterdeep.

And, if it happens to sweeten the deal, Tara misses you, too. My mother has even offered to bake some sweets for your arrival if you do so choose to return here.

I would be more than happy to have you here, Roux. I am not a man who tends to lie on matters of such grave importance, you know that. Write me when you have started your journey to Waterdeep, if you are still interested in coming here, that way I have some time to prepare for your arrival.

Yours in every lifetime,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios