#and my brain wants to know what it means

[paperclipninja]

Time and memory

This is more a pondering out loud than any theory or idea I necessarily subscribe to at this point, but there's something about time and memory and the wackiness of both through season 2 that has me thinking and full disclosure: This is not a complete thought.

I have had this post sitting in my drafts for about a month because there's some connection my brain is almost making, but can't quite. And during that time a whole lot of ppl have delved further into the time and set/prop inconsistencies, so this post is a little bit sharing a whole lot of the metas I've had the pleasure of reading, and also an attempt to share my own thoughts on it all.

There are amazing posts delving into the time inconsistencies already (like The ineffable discontinuity of time in ALL of Good Omens season 2? and the other work @embracing-the-ineffable has linked in their pinned post that explores this and @indigovigilance's look at Continuity errors is another one).

Then @cobragardens points out these extremely sus time-related situations in 5 Good Omens Timefucks that Haunt me

Then others have pointed out inconsistencies in prop placement, costuming etc, such as They are out of order by @maufungi and @purplewillowchicken's observations about Crowley's chair in the bookshop

But then, THEN, Neil answered an ask about Crowley's knowledge that hand washing would become all the rage during the Edinburgh flashback and his response here (incl. the excerpt "Either [Crowley] has an understanding of science and the world, or he has visions of the future. Or he read up on the ineffable planning a long time ago. Your call") could indeed be very Gaiman-esque teasing or it perhaps a little bit of a hint.

When you take in how many time discrepancies or inconsistencies (whether this is prop or costume inconsistency/changes or timeline ones) there are throughout season 2 and consider that this is a show that is deliberate and fastidious in it's inclusion/exclusion of any details, it has to make you wonder.

Also, in the book of Good Omens, Crowley's watch shows the time for Another place as, "it's always too late" and it's stuck on one time. But in the series, we've never had reference to his watch in this way and the line, "It's always too late" said by Crowley in season 2, is, to me at least, quite ominous, almost defeated, like it's something he contends with often.

There is something about the way he says that line that struck me on first viewing and continues to on every subsequent watch. It's not just that the meaning is a little ambiguous; too late because Aziraphale is already in danger? Too late because they've always been in danger and they're simply staying one step ahead? Too late because no matter what Crowley and Aziraphale do, they're part of a bigger plan that they have no control over or ability to slow down? All of the above?

The way Crowley says, "it's always too late" comes across as quite personal to me. Like he feels responsible. Or, if we're going to go with some timey-wimey bendy-wendy stuff, it's like he keeps falling short of preventing or achieving something he's being trying to achieve for a long time. He sounds deflated.

And yes, it could be the constant looking over his shoulder and never finding peace, absolutely. As I said right off the bat, I don't necessarily believe what I'm writing is true, but more of a fun little "what if?"

There have been theories about time loops and the idea that Crowley (or everyone) is stuck in a loop, and I could see how memory could come into that. I don't necessarily think Crowley's memory has been tampered with by Heaven or Hell, but the idea that being in a loop impacts memory, and that each time he goes around it shifts or alters memories depending on what has been changed etc, totally tracks.

Part of me thinks that playing around with time loops etc is a bit out of GO universe, but then I remember that Crowley stops time and that is pretty darn significant, so anything's possible?

So what I'm throwing into the mix is this - what if time and memory, specifically Crowley's, are somehow connected? More specifically, his involvement in the creation of nebulae aka space, sort of attached him to different timelines? Or allowed him to travel through time in different ways?

Yes, this is whackadoo, but he can stop time, possibly manipulate it, what if he can jump around in it too? What if, just like Adam resetting the Earth, essentially setting it on a new trajectory and timeline, Crowley finds himself in different timelines at different times, trying to get to the one where Earth is safe, he and Aziraphale are safe, where it's not too late?

And what if he's either not aware of it or doesn't know which timeline he's ever in until it is too late? And that's why he doesn't recognise Saraqael and Furfur. Or, what if he has indeed seen the future and is desperately trying to alter the past to avert whatever he's seen? But in doing so, any changes mean that present Crowley doesn't remember these angels and demons he doesn't recognise, because they are a result of trying to alter the outcomes of the future?

I think this is all far too sci-fi and quite unlikely but, if I was going to humour myself a little more, the comment Crowley makes to Maggie and Nina, that he and Aziraphale have been talking for "millions of years" - I always took it at him just exaggerating the time they've known one another to make a point (which, honestly, I still think is the case). But if I wanted to support my own out there idea, arguably, if Crowley was travelling back and forth through time, trying to do whatever he's trying to do, then perhaps he really does have millions of years of conversations with Aziraphale under his belt?

And that's why sometimes props are different or in different places - something's been altered in the timeline and it flows into the present. Then of course there's the idea that the Metatron or God or some entity is manipulating time and messing with everything, again, maybe *insert shrug emoji here*?

Though I do keep coming back to Neil's comment about Crowley having visions of the future. Perhaps it's not so much travelling through time, as being able to see through time? I mean, there's the whole scene that never happened with the dream of the bookshop standing alone amidst destruction and while it's never been said whose dream it was, if I was a betting person, my money would be on Crowley. Ya know, the one who has visions of the future. Because Earth destroyed while the bookshop still stands would certainly explain the "it's always too late" comment too.

So that's the end of my half formed not-really thought. It seems ridiculous to write such a long post about something I'm not particularly convinced about, but I certainly agree there's something funky going on with time and the memory thing bugs me because it's not consistent enough to be a memory wipe situation (I don't think), but it's been made obvious enough we're meant to notice. Either that, or Crowley is just being a smartass which, honestly, is far more likely.

[ionomycin]

Forest Guardians

[hinamie]

so just know, I'm healing / even though it don't feel like it

insp

[kettlefire]

A Panic in Time (DP x DC)

This is all thanks to the awesome @tkiesai for basically being the foundation of this idea! This is probably going to be long, and probably won't delve that deep into my ideas about this idea. Largely so it's not insanely long. But here I go!

°•°•°•°

Bruce's head felt like it had been shoved through a straw and spit out on the other side. The throbbing was annoying, but it wasn't anything the man couldn't handle.

His mind was muddled, memories of what happened prior to him awaking was blurry and unsure. Bruce knew it wasn't something good.

He vaguely remembered a league meeting, a threat, something looming. It wasn't world ending, or at least that's what Bruce remembered. It should have been something they could handle.

But now, here was Bruce. Waking up in the grass of some random park. He was dressed in casual attire, something he'd wear in public as Bruce. Although last he remembered he was in the Batsuit.

The sun felt too bright in the sky. The sound of families filled the air and children's laughter. No one seemed to blink twice at Bruce as he pulled himself together.

It took a moment to steel himself, to gain composer again. It took a few sweet lines, and a charming smile for a nice mother to slide him a few painkillers. The lies rolling off his tongue like second nature.

To his luck there was a newspaper at the top of the trashcan. He was in some town called Amity Park, and the year... the year was the problem.

It was 1996. Whatever had happened had sent Bruce back in time. There was a few suspects Bruce can think were the cause of this. But something in his gut kept drawing his train of thought to the Flash.

It seemed like each time the League had any time related problems, Barry was in the center of it. Which also leaves Bruce with the question if he was the only one sent back in time.

God, he could only imagine the nightmare if the others were sent back in time. Yes, they can be professional. They understand the risk of changing things in the past.

But Bruce also understands that his team can be less than... intelligent at times.

Despite that, Bruce needed to find a way to get back to Gotham. He might not know for sure where everyone was right now, but he knew Alfred was the safest bet.

A plan laid out in Bruce's mind, a list of people he knew wouldn't be a risk to approach. He just needed to find a way to get to them. He had barely made it to the gates of the park before a shrill cry pierced the air.

There was just one loud outcry, before it quieted down. Bruce glance around the space, spotting a young boy curled on the ground. Tears streamed down the boy's chubby cheeks.

And no one even moved to the boy's aid. Not a single mother spared more than one glance in the kid's directions. No parents came rushing over to the boy's side.

Bruce almost walked away, he really did. This wasn't his time, anything he does can cause immense damage to the timeline. But when Bruce caught sight of blood bubbling from a scrape on the boy's knee, Bruce couldn't ignore him.

Maybe it's just the father in him, but Bruce barely even notices when he's crossing the small distance. His mind zeroing in on a hurt child that needed help. Kneeling before the small boy with a gentle smile, and pulling his handkerchief free from his pocket.

"You're alright there, buddy. It looks like you took a bit of a tumble there." Bruce slipped into the same tone he used to use when his kids were young. Gentle and understanding, as he pressed the handkerchief to the small scrape.

The boy sniffled, tears slipping from his eyes. Bruce was more focused on the way the kid was looking at him. Like he couldn't fathom someone coming to his aid.

That look had Bruce's heart breaking slightly. He's seen a similar look before. The few times he's come to the aid of a hurt child that wasn't used to getting help.

Something no child should ever feel or experience.

"Where's your parents, kiddo?" Bruce asked after a moment of silence from the boy. He had waited until the kid's breathing settled down when the boy's chest stopped pumping so quickly.

Except his question only seemed to bring a new wave of tears to the boy's eyes. The small child just seemed to curl into himself further, ducking his gaze away from Bruce.

And as much as Bruce didn't want it to be true, it was clear the kid didn't have the support he needed. It might not as be as far as some of Bruce's kids have had in the past.

But it was clearly not good.

"That's okay, it's alright. What's your name?" Bruce tried again. The boy's silence was leaving an uncomfortable pit in Bruce's stomach.

"D-Danny..." The boy spoke out his name between sniffles, and Bruce felt a wave of relief hearing the boy speak.

In hindsight, Bruce can see how strange the scene might look. A slightly disheveled man comforting a lone young boy in a park. It wasn't exactly perfect.

But with the lack of reactions from the parents around, Bruce had a feeling the town had an idea who this boy was. The whole situation just didn't feel that right for him.

It took a few more comments before Bruce managed to get the boy to crack a smile. A laugh had felt like breaking a massive wall.

Before long, Bruce had Danny actually like any other boy he's known. Carefree and happy, just like a child should be.

"You didn't tell me your name, mister." Danny had suddenly cut down the relaxed moment they were in. A pout laced the boy's lips as he looked up at Bruce, almost accusatory.

"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." Bruce responded without missing a beat. He knew this might cause problems in the future. He wasn't supposed to be here.

But when his gut is telling him something, he can't just ignore it. He checked his pockets, finding no business cards anywhere. So, Bruce fell back in plan B.

"No matter how long it's been from now, you can come to me for help. Just look for Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, and when you find me... just say Fairbanks sent you."

Bruce wasn't sure if he'll ever see Danny again when he goes back to his own time. Wasn't even sure if this was the same universe as his own. But he couldn't walk away without at least offering the boy help in some way.

When Danny's eyes filled up with tears again, Bruce thought he said something wrong at first. That was until the boy was suddenly clinging to his shoulders in a tight embrace, muttering 'thank you' over and over again.

Bruce felt himself almost close to tears just from that alone. His heart was aching for the small boy. Even if Bruce couldn't help Danny anymore than this, he was hoping the boy would have a better life.

One where he wasn't clinging to a stranger for comfort that family should be providing him.

THWAMP

It didn't hurt, but it did cut their hug short as Bruce suddenly pulled away. Turning his head to see a young girl wielding a wiffle bat, and another young boy standing behind her.

Her purple eyes glared at Bruce like he had done the worst thing in the world. Her grip on the bat was threatening and ready to swing again. Her knuckles white from the tight grip alone.

Maybe leaving this time era might not be as easy as Bruce thought as the young girl probbed him with angry and scolding questions. Not that Bruce could blame her.

He just hoped this hiccup didn't get back to the league. They'd have a field day hearing about how Batman got scolded by a child with a wiffle bat.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Danny wasn't sure if this was the best idea. It's been years since he met Bruce Wayne. So many years. Danny had just been a kid, not even ten, when Bruce had introduced himself.

When he had an adult, actually check in on him. Yet, it was a memory Danny couldn't forget. Maybe it was just the kindness that Bruce radiated.

Or maybe it was when Sam came to his "rescue" near the end. Regardless, it was cemented in his mind. A core memory that Danny cared with him through the years.

Now, here he was, roughly seven years later. Standing in front of a manor that put even Sam's place to shame.

It took a lot of courage for Danny to knock. Barely a second later, an old man answered the door, an accent Danny was certain Bruce hadn't had.

A stuttered explaination of being here to see Bruce Wayne, that the man knew him, barely left Danny's mouth before the old man ushered him inside.

The man, Alfred, told Danny to wait by the door before vanishing further into the manor. It took a lot for Danny to not just vanish.

Being half ghost nowadays had its quirks, Danny could just vanish, and no one but Alfred would know. But he couldn't.

It had taken a lot for Danny to make the journey to Gotham City. He hadn't even thought to look up a current picture of Bruce either. Which was probably a big mistake on his end.

Danny didn't even know if Bruce was offering this kind of help. But Danny didn't have many allies to turn to. He needed help.

Not just for himself but for his family. For Amity Park. He couldn't be afforded the ability to run away. Not now.

Danny felt all the air leave his lungs when Bruce entered the area. The man didn't look a day older than what Danny remembered. Bruce looked a bit more put together, not like he had just jumped out of a moving car, but it was Bruce.

"Uhm... I don't know if you remember me. But my name's Danny... we met when I was a kid." Danny started trying to explain himself before Bruce could speak. He recognized that confused look anywhere, and Danny didn't have the guts to go through with this if Bruce asked any questions.

"You told me if I ever needed help, to come find you. Bruce Wayne in Gotham City... you, uh, told me to tell you Fairbanks sent me?"

That came out more like a question than Danny would have liked. But it did ease his nerves a bit as he watched Bruce's slightly confused expression turn to alarm and surprise.

Danny wasn't sure what this would do. If Bruce could truly help him. But he was out of options. Just seeing Bruce recognize something he said was enough to calm the teen's anxiety slightly.

"I'm sorry, Danny... I don't remember you. But I believe you and I want to help you. Come inside, have a seat, and tell me what's going on."

That response was enough to have Danny's eyes fill with tears. His chest filling with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in weeks now.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

[almondcroissantsandink]

some studies of glen powell because I wanted to further understand how his facial features work! :)

[rynli]

Thinking about how one of the two voices in Harry's deepest core is feminine.... Thinking about how the Skills are fragments of Harry's psyche, and he's convinced himself he's a manly-man at the moment, but clearly the Furies themselves don't all have to be male... thinking about half the Skills immediately switching to she/her the second Harry comes across the concept of gender as a construct. Wait, we can CHOOSE? Friendship ended with "this guy." "this gal" is my new gender.

[deoidesign]

Wearing your boyfriend's jacket

[longmaxsilvarg]

something about the main menu for life is strange genuinely makes me wanna collapse and sob

[shinybulbasaur]

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite!

I was tagged by @suddenrundown, thanks for the tag! I was so tempted to put "eliot's baseball hair" but I resisted (also polls don't allow strikethroughs. sad). tagging @michinaranja, @vero-niche, @acidmatze and anyone else who wants to play!

[beware-of-you-98]

“people only like agathario as a ship because of the actresses”

NO actually because do you know how fucking insane the concept of having a character whose soul purpose for even existing is to Lead people to the Afterlife, like that’s literally it. There’s no rules** or feelings or certain way to do things. She literally just IS.

And then suddenly this Character meets This other character who has been rejected by the only people she’s ever known, called a monster and nearly executed by said people. She thinks she’s a fucking monster but Death gets her because that’s the one THING that makes her so alike with this witch:

They aren’t Monsters. They can’t control what they do. They aren’t cruel.

They just are.

Now imagine this character, who has never once in her life has felt Anything because it’s not who she is. She’s not supposed to FEEL things.

But this other character, she makes Death feel for the first time ever: anger, jealousy, longing, anguish, sadness, turmoil and, above all love. And this love LITERALLY humanizes her.

Death isn’t supposed to have a Heart that beats.

And yet, out of this love, comes life.

Death isn’t supposed to be a Mother.

And when Death is doing her job, her Love begs her not to do it. To not do her job.

And, perhaps maybe for the first time ever, Death has a rule she can break.

She can’t NOT take the dead.

She doesn’t take Nicky from Agatha for six years. Nicky was never, ever meant to even exist. But because death broke her own rules, he lived for far longer than he should have.

And then she Had to take him.

And suddenly, for the first time EVER, Death is affected by the loss.

The loss pushes the person to give her Life, humanity and more to hate her. And then she feels guilt, and sorrow, and further down the line, anger and frustration because she can’t Find her.

And when she finally does, she’s at Peace. She’s enjoying herself because her person is here and she’s talking to her and suddenly Death feels whole again.

She’s not supposed to feel.

And, still, when her love dies, Death feels it like she never has before. She cries. She mourns.

She’s not supposed to do anything but be Death, and yet because of Agatha Harkness, Death had become so much more.

And THAT is insane to me.

The fact that agatha and rio are played by two incredibly talented and Stunning actresses is literally just the cherry on the cake.

[ghostdrinkssoup]

girls don’t want hannibal season 4 girls want a spin-off show that’s basically master chef but hannibal is the only judge and the rest of the cast are contestants except the catch is they don’t know all the ingredients are people-based (except will who’s desperately trying to convince everyone while also having homoerotic tension with hannibal) and it’s filmed like the special features clips on the shrek 2 DVD

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

[mwagneto]

i truly am losing my mind tho coz like i literally spent weeks/years waiting to see if ofmd/gomens was bait and they're NOT. and they're both getting explicitly romantic promos and little hearts in the posters and the mcs kissing on screen coz they're canonically in looove it's all so. ohhmy fucking god

[luckydrunk]

I think my brain’s infected…

[martianbugsbunny]

"Can you take orders" "I don't know. give me one" LOGAN HONEY BE MORE OBVIOUS

[jannecapelleart]

listen guys i have my criticism of season 2 but the ed&izzy aspect does appeal to the part of my brain that likes angst