#but i figured there'd at least be 1 or 2

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Me: Hmmm I like this ship a lot, but I haven't decided if it's OTP-worthy yet.

Me: *Realizes there are literally zero fics on AO3 for them*

Me: ... Dust off the old typewriter, lads. I've got a ship to captain.

[sortanonymous]

I can't stand the tension! I miss Unicorn: Warriors Eternal so much! I just need to know if it's coming back or not! If it's getting another season (or three like Genndy hoped for), then that's freaking awesome! If it's getting Zaslav'd before it can ever address that cliffhanger, then that's the biggest disgrace to happen in this industry in about a month or two (maybe idk). But just let ne know already! It's been a year! I miss Mel/Em, Ed, and the others so much! SGGYJGDGHBFGRKKDDYHHH

[foone]

The way it works is it's a surgery to make you immune to a bullet.

Note, that's not the same as being immune to bullets. You're only immune to a single shot: if someone shoots you twice, you're dead.

You can take the surgery again, though. The only real limitation is that you gotta wait 2-3 weeks between each time. But if you've got the money and the time, you can be as bulletproof as you want.

It doesn't "refill", by the way. Often when the surgery is explained people think it's like "a bullet a day" or "you can get shot once a year" or whatever. Nope! Once you've been shot it's just like you never had that surgery to begin with. If you want to "refill" that immunity? You have the surgery again.

No, there's no upper limit to how many times you can go, that we know of at least. There's one guy in Florida who has made it "his thing" to get the surgery as often as he can. He's currently up to about 50. Obviously there's some people online who've said they're gonna shoot this guy and lower his "record", just to be countrary.

Anyway I'm sure there'd be people who have even higher numbers (anyone who has "getting shot" as a major occupational risk, ie, politicians, soldiers, cops, and anyone doing any kind of residental survey in rural areas), but they only invented the surgery like three years ago, it's just simple math: you can't do much better than that guy.

The invention of the surgery hasn't done much to decrease gun sales, though. I mean, there's been a slight increase in people buying guns with larger capacity, for what I'd consider obvious reasons.

I did see an article suggesting that in the long run it might end up increasing the sale of guns. See their analysis is that two factors are going to drive up gun ownership:

1. People will be more willing to shoot at trespassers and thieves and such, because it'll be more like a warning shot: if they have some immunity, it won't be murder. So far that hasn't really happened as not that many people have the surgery yet. Although it's spreading fast, only major cities have surgeons trained in it, and often waits for surgery can be months long.

2. Conversely, people are going to be more likely to break in and rob and trespass if they know they can't be shot dead for it, because they got the surgery. There'll be a minor uptick in home invasions and such and this'll cause a big predictable panic among middle class homeowners who are now terrified some hooligan is gonna break into their house to steal their iPads. Thus they go throw money at security systems and cameras and guns.

So who knows at this point. If the cost (in both time and money) comes down, maybe it becomes super common for people to be so effectively invulnerable to guns that there's really no point in owning one?

I do agree with the common consensus that this is going to drive a big increase in crimes committed with knives and such. Why take a risk that your target might be immune?

Which reminds me of another thing to clarify because sometimes people online get this very wrong: it's only for bullets! You are not immune to getting hit by a car or poisoned or set on fire. Don't walk into traffic or anything, jesus.

Oh one last thing: there is a blood test that can tell if you have immunity, but it can't tell how many times you've had the surgery. You gotta figure that out yourself: so ask your doctor, search your emails, something. Every day I'm hearing from healthcare workers saying someone came in to get the blood test and it had to be explained to them that we can't tell how much protection you have: only if it's there or not. And I feel like a fool for having to say this, but REMEMBER to subtract any times you've got shot! (if you have been) Obviously!

EDIT: In light of recent events, people are sharing this post and arguing about it a lot, but let me be clear: grazes and small cuts do not count! The exact dividing line is too complicated to explain here (look up "circulatory shock" on Wikipedia), but basically if you don't end up with a big hole in you, the shot doesn't trigger the immunity.

That's how it works: you could have an ear blown clean off, and you'd still not trigger an immunity. So please stop spreading that idiotic conspiracy theory that a former president didn't have any immunity. You can barely run a high-school without being required to have immunity to hold the position, because what if someone shoots you? Come on! Of course he has immunity.

For all we know he's got some prototype experimental shit they use on president's that got him up to 200 in a couple days. There's endless rumors of the DoD funding billions in black budget items to that sort of thing, because of course. Who wouldn't want a way to make bulletproof soldiers? You don't think the soviets are pouring even more into it?

[thatdeadaquarius]

SAGAU / Isekai Genshin:

You can still use your characters! ... as in possessing them 👻

(all art by me down below, hope its decent lol - did it for u guys and myself i mean what )

Edit 9/7/23: 1,500+ NOTES??? BRO WHAT!! THABK YOU <3

Edit 12/24/23 + 4/5/24:

☆

My dumbass forgot to put this here .-.

Anywya this is a full length fanfic now ;)

PART 1 (you're here!) / Part 2

So.

You got sucked into a video game. 

Crazy, but it happens ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

yknow how it issss

...you very quickly discover that unfortunately video game rules still apply...

which wouldn't normally be an issue! like, needing to use the bathroom in the middle of a fight? Nope! minor cuts and bruises like papercuts, only actual enemies or fall damage counting? hell yeah that'd be great (theoretically no chronic pains if you got that?? hmmmm unsure)

see the issue comes when you realize, you as a player, don't have a "character" that's all your own

there's aether/lumine yeah.. but bc the game's real now, they're their own people, and you didn't wake up to find yourself as a blonde twin...

the closest you can describe your form as is .. like a seelie?

or like the way ghosts look in game?

but a lot more "starry"

like your specterlike, but you look like you got filled up with stars and the milky way, maybe a reference of you being from another universe/world? (aether/lumine/dainsleif/khaenriah star symbol reference secret thEORY-)

but yah.

you also got just, white eyes.

like, not iris, not pupil. like your pupil and iris got erased

you gotta admit, at least you look really aesthetic now.

(u also got a little cape and hood on at all times, and you cant take it off to see your starrified hair >:/ ,very Blue Diamond-esque, look up Steven Universe, Blue Diamond if you dont know who im talking about)

so needless to say, as soon as you sort of glitched your way into existence you were HYPE

i mean ur ACTUALLY IN TEYVAT WITH THE BOYSSSS

...then you realize your a spooky-no-character-to-pilot-around-thus-no-character-model-body-for-you thingy

and that you cant touch stuff!! >:(

like wth!!!

thats just downright unfair.

so, you figure if you got no body to be.... you gotta find a new "character" to pilot >:)

...

I choose you, yellow fungi!

...

....

you're in the fucking woods (Sumeru somewhere obv, u knew that the moment you opened ur eyes),

what'd you expect?? an archon??

..wait a minute. can you possess an archon-

these kinda thoughts plague your first few days of irl genshin impact playing

a rishabold tiger? yep.

a sumpter beast? kinda slow and heavy feeling but yeah.

...you also try a ruin machine LOL

by far, the fungi and ruin machines are the best to possess, mostly because you can remain upright with those

(tho u did find some type of flying monkey that wasnt in game, but its like,, a real world and jungle now so that makes sense there'd be more complexity + stuff)

you do eventually think you should try and possess a person at this point... but ur kinda nervous 👉👈

its ur first time doin this okay nobody explained the basics to you youve been winging for a week now!

will your mind be replaced with theirs? it hasn't been so far with the creatures/bots

and as far as you can tell, they kinda just-

forget what happened or "wake up" after you possess them

(the tiger you were for a day looked confused as hell when it realized that there was a new pile of fruit next to it when it "woke up", it was your way of saying thank you to the animals of the jungle, u left them little piles of food you collected running around as them)

so THEORHETICALLY-

you should be good to go and possess a random poor eremite

... you figure you want to possess something human-like eventually even if you get a puppet body like wanderer/raiden so...

here goes nothing...

♤

so it's been 2 weeks since you've been forcefully yanked into teyvat, and by the second week, you were trying to possess eremites

which! worked out!

mostly..!

you kinda convinced the entirety of two eremite camps that a certain part one of sumeru's forests is hella haunted bc ppl keep "blacking out" and doing things they don't remember doing, yknow... like possesssion LMAO

they kinda ran off to escape you but, hey!

experiment #2: people possession, success!!

now you were kinda convinced of this when you realized no matter the angle the animals and machines of sumeru didnt react to you getting super close to them (you dont have to touch something to posses it, just look at it really, but you wanted to test limits, so you walked up to sumpter beasts and fungi and ruin machines)

but no one can see you.

you don't have a "character" most of the time, you can float and glide around the ground like scaramouche lol

you cant touch stuff bc of this, you cant smell stuff (u saw the eremites campfires & couldnt smell the smoke until you were them)

you cant eat stuff w/o a body, so.. it makes sense that the eremites and passing merchants, cant see you when you float around, trying to reorient yourself after 2 weeks of experimenting

:( ur only a lil sad about it... but mostly not bc lol u got possession powers so trade off u guess

the first time you see a vision-bearer you literally scream

LMAO

ur so lucky u cant be seen or heard

bc Collei would have def screamed back lol

needless to say u stalk the forest ranger- ALL DAY.

Collei goes on patrol around the woods? you go on a patrol.

collei goes to visit other forest rangers? you "visit" other forest rangers at base (lol u def possess a guy who was asleep on a bench nearby & wake up to go talk to Collei "in-person", poor guy was so worried he sleep walked/talked so hard he went to see Tighnari an hour later lmao)

welp, you decide this is your life now, follow Collei everywhere, talk one-sided to Collei until you can possess a forest ranger w/o it being suspicious (dont wanna turn the poor rangers into the terrified eremites from a week or two ago...)

then, after you get the courage and erase the paranoia that tighnari can just... somehow hear your ghostly bullshit-

u do the same to Tighnari (then Cyno when he visits! no u didnt squeal, so what, nobody can hear you- )

♧

Tighnari begins to get suspicious about 3 weeks into this routine.

he's been starting to collect and start a file on all the rangers or nearby villagers that've started randomly "blacking out/sleep walking" in the evenings usually

(u possess as close to nighttime as u can so it seems like sleepwalking)

So when Cyno comes back from a mission gone wrong,

having nearly been decapitated by a rogue flying ruin machine, only to black out and come to standing calmly 10 feet further than he remembered being 1 minute ago...

Tighnari's suspicions are confirmed, and he launches into researching this phenomenon.

his first thought is something like the aranara, but that doesn't account for the effect this thing is having on people

after all, what little forest spirit is strong enough to-

-control humans??

Tighnari begins to get the sense he's in over his head after he finds himself pushed into going into Sumeru City in order to collect more library books or ask around if the blackouts have spread to the city people

he answer is negative, on both accounts.

and he spends about one half of the day walking around, and the other reading up all he can on mythical creatures or ailments

Tighnari gives up for the day, and as he makes his way back to Ghandarvaville, he almost gets ambushed by some particularly nasty muggers

...and then he wakes up 20 feet away, his denro vision thrumming with power, full of worry and fondness for himself??, (just like Cyno said he felt happen to him..)

...Tighnari decides he needs reinforcements.

YOU GUYS-

UR LOCAL ZODIAC SIGN OBSESSED W/GENSHIN HIT A CHARACTER LIMIT ON A POST FINALLY. 😦

??? THIS WOULDVE BEEN LONGER BUT I BARELY GOT SPACE FOR THIS- I- EVEN THE QIQI POST DIDNT HIT LIMIT-

uh cya ig!!

Safe travels lmao,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist @revonie / @hat-on-a-cat / @takottai / @sickly-falling (?) / @iruiji

(Sorry about the late tag! I forgot to update my taglist before i posted this 💀 my bad guys)

Also if the people who got put there who i couldnt find a blog for see this, idk what went wrong ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - maybe check and see if ur setting for "being able to be searched/looked up" is turned on?? Idk man

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 53 (Detective Gordon's New Precinct)

While work kept Heather busy, Conrad spent his days learning the ropes at his new precinct in Brindleton Bay, where crime was less organized and the cells full of mostly petty criminals. Smuggling could be a problem at the docks from time to time, but they never stayed in port long to avoid getting caught, and never added much intrigue or danger to the town.

Gord couldn't join him when he spent his days on patrol, but this only motivated ambitious Conrad to prove himself even more.

He liked the sleepier lifestyle, the less dangerous crime scenes, and the supply of NesbeetsLT faux meat sandwiches in the break room vending machine. But he didn’t love leaving his beloved partner at home with the cats. None of his human partners could sniff out a suspect the way Gord could!

Conrad had better instincts than most of the detectives at his new precinct, and they invited him along to learn the ropes after a local barfight ended in a robbery. But rather than learn the ropes, Conrad solved the case. As a reward they let him process the booking - and all the paperwork, too!

He didn't mind. He was happy to show them how good he was. The guilty sim asked how he knew it was her while he took her fingerprints, and Conrad smiled.

"I followed the clues. You just left more behind than you thought."

He quickly proved himself worthy of several promotions until he was back to being a detective again, just like he’d been in San Myshuno. He was thrilled to have proven himself in less than six months. And now he could bring Gord on the job with him again.

And Gord was thrilled to be back inside a police station, ready to sniff out the next bad guy just like he used to do in the city.

"Okay, Gord, like we talked about, just be cool," Conrad pressed. "Stay calm."

Gord turned up his chin and gave an affirmative ruff.

Inside, the other detectives were happy to meet their new "deputy" Gord. Brindleton Bay was a pet-loving town, and it seemed silly there'd been no canines on the local force until now!

Gord leapt into the arms of Josephine, Conrad's human partner.

"I'm so sorry. He does this a lot more than he should." Gord barked as Conrad shot him a sideways glance.

"It's fine!" said Josephine with a laugh. "I think I'll like having him around."

After Conrad grabbed some lunch and put in a workout in the gym upstairs, he came back down to find Gord at Josephine's feet in the chief's office. "Gordon, you've got a great dog. If I'd have been in charge then, I'd have let you take him out with you when you first got here," said the chief.

Josephine smiled. "I'm supposed to retire in a year, but I could stick around for Gord alone. Where did you find this one?"

"We busted the puppy mill where was born back in the city. But honestly, Gord found me. My first partner named him when he followed me back to the cruiser. He passed K-9 training with flying colours, and he's been my partner against crime ever since."

Gord barked happily, rubbing his head against Conrad's pressed pant leg. Josephine pulled out her phone. "Can I take a picture to send my grandson? He just loves dogs!"

One evening, Conrad and Gord returned from work to find the cats playfully stalking the chickens in the yard. Heather hadn't asked him to pick up Ash on his way home, but for that he'd expected to see them both when he walked in.

"Heather?"

He set down his keys, but only the cats came running.

The house was eerily quiet. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

I hadn't figured out how to get Gord to the precinct and @deardiaryts4 just casually said "I guess you'll have to pose him there without a mod" and it melted my brain. Like I had never heard of or done this before in my life, but it opened up a whole new world of sim storytelling and poses for me and I'm so excited!! Thank you so much for the advice so I could at least pose Gord at work!

[aquaquadrant]

Why do I feel like Etho and Patho would actually really get along well. Like there'd be a minute of "oh shit" then they'd be making some weird machine together.

Also any chance you would be willing to share the story about Patho's clock and maybe info on Hels Bdubs?

(honestly? true. patho isn’t bothered enough w the concept of being a doppelgänger so he’d be chill w etho if etho was chill with him. and etho’s like. always chill. anyway idk if this’ll answer ur questions but here’s uhhhh something)

~*~

patho pauses at the top of the netherrack hill, boots hissing briefly as he shifts off a magma block.

xyz: -12,485.167 / 67.09835 / 253,295.942

the coordinates ever-present within his field of view tell him he should be another hundred or so blocks away in the z axis, but he can already see the jungle’s grown since his last visit. it’s been slowly overtaking the neighboring nether waste biome for a couple decades, now. rate of growth has held constant, unchanging. that's something, at least.

patho slowly scans the horizon. words and numbers flash across the left half of his vision as his cybernetic eye rapidly processes new information based on visual input: netherrack, netherrack, crimson nylium, grass, jungle wood, jungle wood, jungle leaves, weeping vine. light level 3, 3, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4. there's a lava pool eleven blocks over in the x axis; light level 15.

he starts walking again.

153 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 23/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 18 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,487.331 / 65.21091 / 253,375.987 block: -12,487 65 253,375 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 5 (0 sky, 5 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8

the data shifts with every step. he's learned to tune most of it out by now, only paying attention to the biome indicator as he crosses the chunk threshold.

biome: error:crimson jungle

particles and sounds immediately jump up a couple degrees. glowing red specks dance slowly in the air, mingling with the ambient noises; hoglins rooting around in the brush, parrots calling unseen from the canopy above, lava bubbling in a pool nearby.

p: 35 sounds: 23/247

the temperature is warmer here. patho shrugs off his jacket, letting it hang at his elbows as he picks his way through the jungle. he doesn't even need to think about where he's going, coordinates left ignored at the edge of his vision. he's taken this path many times before, and he never has to wander very long.

his boots crunch softly on the nylium and grass terrain. jungle leaves and crimson fungus alike brush at his shoulders as he ducks underneath branches, taking care not to get tangled in weeping vines.

this is his favorite jungle. it's not the only crimson jungle he's ever come across- not to mention the warped jungles- but out of all the biomes he's seen, it's the one with the greenest leaves. something about this jungle sustains the normal trees just as well as it does the fungi, allowing the grass and leaves to stay bright and full instead growing in wilted and brown. it makes a lovely contrast with the blood red fungi.

not for the first time, he's thankful that the jungle is far enough away from spawn to be left alone. if other players knew about this place, with its well-sustained passive mob spawning and greenery, they'd destroy it for resources for sure. but he never worries too much about that possibility, because no mob or player sets foot in this jungle without permission from-

a weeping vine suddenly sprouts from the ground and lashes around patho's leg.

it's quickly joined by several more, snaking out from the undergrowth to wrap around his other limbs. before he can blink, he's lifted off the ground and pulled up into the trees. he doesn't struggle, doesn't panic- this is nothing new to him. the vines string him up among the highest branches, where a familiar figure is crouched in front of him, nothing but a pair of glowing red eyes beneath a heap of moss.

<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0

"hey, dbubs," patho says casually.

the figure straightens up, hood falling back to reveal his face. his huge red eyes are sparkling with excitement, despite the dark circles lining them, and his mouth falls open in a wide, sharp-toothed grin. vines of varying shapes and sizes curl lazily around his body, small tendrils sprouting from the mossy cloak he wears. a couple veins of red discolor his skin, crawling up his neck and across his face. his messy hair is a bit whiter than the last time patho saw him, tinged red at the roots. a clock hangs around his neck, to match the one hanging from patho's hip.

"patho!" dbubs practically shouts, throwing his arms out.

sounds: 24/247

before dbubs can say anything else, patho asks his usual question. “what’s your name?”

“what’s my-” dbubs blinks, works his jaw for a second. “GODSLAYER666,” he proclaims loudly, puffing his chest out. then he pauses, frowns. “wait, no, i- i don’t know why i just said that. uh…”

it’s somewhere in the middle, then. not as bad as his worst days- at least he’s aware he’s lying, even if he has no control over it. and patho has to admit, that's one of the most entertaining responses dbubs has ever given to his little test.

"uh huh." patho shifts in the web of vines. they're holding a bit tighter than normal. of course, he could still easily break out of them. if he wanted to. "did you miss me, dbubs?" he asks instead, his voice teasing.

dbubs throws his head back to let out a sharp laugh, sending a shower of red particles fluttering through the air. "what?" he demands incredulously, his eyes blown wide. "miss you? i d- eugh, n'you stupid- i- i didn't even notice you were gone!"

patho hums with amusement. "then you don't wanna, like, kiss me or anything?"

"no," dbubs insists stubbornly, even as he comes closer. he steps boldly into patho's space, hands coming up to grab his face. "no, no of course not, i don't..." his long eyelashes flutter as he looks patho up and down. he smells like moss; like old vegetation and decay. there's soil and dried blood caked under his fingernails. "why would i- you ha- you have a lotta nerve..." dbubs tugs at the left strap of patho's mask, tilting his head. "do i- uh, do i get to see ya?" he asks, expression suddenly eager.

"yeah," patho chuckles.

dbubs grins widely, pulling patho's mask down. for a moment, he just looks at him. his calloused hand scuffs along the metal parts of patho's face- the entire ramus of his left mandible and most of his cheekbone, lost in the explosion that took his eye. the remaining skin is rough with scar tissue. dbubs strokes his thumb along that, too.

"i lo- um, i- i hate your stupid face," dbubs mumbles before he finally kisses patho. he seems to process his words a second later, breaking away with a small gasp of "oh! i d-", but patho simply leans in again, reclaiming his lips.

he knows what dbubs meant.

~*~

dbubs spares patho the trouble of walking, simply having the vines carry him to the hideaway. it's a difficult base to categorize: part tree house, part nest, part garden. in some places the floor is made of wood- in others, just a thick layer of leaves. there are potted plants and hanging vines everywhere, interspersed among stacks of barrels and moldy bookcases. little red mushrooms sprout from walls made of thatch and tree trunks. a couple of shroomlights provide gentle lighting as glittery particles drift through the open air; red, from the biome itself, and green from the spore blossom that patho brought him last year.

the vines unceremoniously drop patho onto the makeshift bed- a mat of moss and old, shredded banners. he's barely gotten settled, pulling his mask up and pulling his jacket off, before dbubs flops onto him with a heavy wuff.

"so!" dbubs starts loudly, propping his elbows up on patho's stomach. "what brings ya to see ol' dbubs today, huh?"

patho huffs a laugh. "what, i can't just stop by to say hi?"

"oh sure, okay." dbubs rolls his eyes, one of his vines flicking through the air dismissively. "you j- yeah, okay, be all secretive, then! see if i care." his haughty demeanor doesn't last long, though, as he shimmies up a little further, arms folded on patho's chest. "d'you- uh, do you wanna hear what i've been doin'?"

patho sighs good-naturedly, shifting so he can tuck his arms behind his head and lean back against the wall. "alright, go ahead."

dbubs beams at him and immediately starts telling lies. he tells patho about all the amazing things he's built (the jungle looks the same), all the incredible battles he's fought (no one's entered the jungle in years), all the wonderful places he's gone (he can't leave the jungle).

but patho doesn't mind that it's all lies. he's content to listen anyways.

they carry on like this until dbubs suddenly pauses, scrambling for his clock. "uh oh! gotta schreep."

patho glances at his own clock; dbubs is right on time, as always. that's one thing he never lies about. "okay, okay," he says, pushing dbubs off- he hits the moss with a soft thump. "lemme get my anchor."

"well, hurry up already!" dbubs shouts impatiently, vines swatting at patho's arm as he pops down his ender chest.

after placing the anchor and setting his spawn, patho reaches up and presses his finger directly into the center of his left eye, shutting it off.

he doesn’t regret putting a data processor into his cybernetic eye; the information it’s given him is invaluable. but every now and then, he needs a break from it. even when his eyes are closed, the display is still active, showing blank values on the back of his eyelid. turning the eye off is the only way to make it go away- of course, at the price of half his vision. so he only does it if he’s sleeping somewhere fully secure, and if he’s alone.

the jungle is an exception. dbubs has full domain out here- no mob or player can come close to his home without him allowing it.

"finally," dbubs huffs as patho settles back down. he's quick to cling with both his arms and assorted vines.

patho can't help but chuckle. "what's that you said about not missing me?"

"oh, shut up!"

~*~

patho abruptly reenters consciousness, emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. with a soft groan, he fumbles to turn on his cybernetic eye, wincing at the sudden influx of data.

149 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 1/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 52 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,587.412 / 96.77253 / 253,401.623 block: -12,587 96 253,401 chunk: -783 15 7,845 facing: north (towards negative z)(1.5/5) client light: 7 (0 sky, 7 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 27/247 + 0/8

"goooood morning!" dbubs calls, over on the other side of the little nook. he's busy rummaging through barrels, perhaps trying to find some breakfast. it’s unlikely he has any food stored; when he’s hungry, he hunts, and the jungle always provides.

"mornin'," patho says, rubbing his face. he sits up- and then pauses. there are weeping vines wrapped tightly around his legs. he sighs. “dbubs, you’re doing it again.”

“what?" dbubs manages to sound surprised. "no! no, i’m not, i’m- i’m just over here, minding my own business, crafting a loom.”

“a loom,” patho repeats flatly.

“yes! for um, for banners.”

“do you even have any wool?”

“do i ha- uh, of course! yes, of course i do.”

“can i see it?”

“no. no, i- i just ate it, actually. um-”

“you ate it?”

“yeah. sorry.”

patho sighs again. he kicks the weeping vines away. "i uh, i didn't mean to be gone for so long," he says, rising to his feet. "but, you know, i- i got held up with a job."

"a job?" dbubs glances over his shoulder at patho, squinting. "what kinda job?"

patho stretches his arms above his head, hearing both his natural and mechanical shoulder joints pop. "some guys out west are tryin' to make a portal out of hels."

"a portal?" dbubs's mouth falls open. "oh, for goodness sakes- and you call me a liar!"

patho knows better than to take offense. "it's true. they've got a player who came here from another world."

"uh huh." dbubs scoffs, but he can't quite hide the anxious shimmer in his eyes. "yeah, yeah, sure... so- i mean, did you do it, then? make them a portal?"

"basically." patho shrugs. "i uh, i told them everything they needed to know, to make one."

"right. you told th- okay." dbubs nods, bites his lip. "um- you didn't stay? to see the portal? or, uh…”

patho chuckles, crossing the distance to put his arms around dbubs's waist. "nah. i mean, come on, you know me, dbubs. i'm a- i'm a hels player, through and through. what's the rest of the universe got that's better than this place, right?"

dbubs grins at that, slotting his arms through patho's. "oh, you- you're such an idiot! y'know, i uh, i've been outside'a hels before and i- um, let me tell ya, you're missing out!"

"mhmm." patho smiles even though his mask is on. he knows dbubs can tell.

"yeah! "dbubs nods vigorously. "and, uh, there's- i got a whole world that's just mine!"

"is that right?" patho rests his chin on the top of dbubs's head. "tell me about it."

"it's a beautiful world, of course. my perfect builds, i ha-"

"of course."

"- uh, hey! quit interruptin'!"

"sorry, sorry."

"i di- thank you. so i um, i built a big ol' crastle, with a- hyeugh, a sorta um, horse course... y'know, with th- with the fastest horses anyone ever saw, one-stick horses, and- and uh, everyone was really impressed…”

this won’t last forever. it’ll only be a matter of weeks, months if they’re lucky, before patho won’t be able to ignore the itch to wander again. before the comfort and familiarity of the jungle becomes unbearable. before dbubs grows so used to his presence that the jungle itself tries to overtake him, the way it has dbubs- vines and veins of red.

he’ll leave without warning in the middle of the night, while dbubs is sleeping, because trying to leave while dbubs is awake never ends well. he’ll leave without a word and try not to think about the frantic whispers he knows dbubs sends him on lonely nights, despite knowing patho will never receive them (it’s the only time he regrets fusing his communicator with his arm- but how was he supposed to know he’d hear it in his mind? how was he supposed to know that disabling the chat was the only way not to lose himself completely to the endless flood of data?)

he’ll stay away long enough for dbubs to shatter apart, losing himself to the wildness of the jungle, and come back together. he’ll wait until dbubs has recovered from his grief, so that the next time dbubs sees him there will only be joy. because no matter how many times patho hurts him, dbubs always forgets it eventually.

“… so, you see, ol’ dbubs been workin' on a new technique, using the uh. grade- uh, gradient? block palettes... to create depth. ah hah! so- so listen, now, to teacher! it all starts with the color scheme..."

this won’t last forever. so for now, patho closes his eyes and listens.

error fps t: b: tx rx c: (s) d: , pc: , pu: , ab: e: , b: , sd: p: t: error fc: xyz: / / block: chunk: facing: ( )( / ) client light: ( sky, block) biome: error: local difficulty: // (day error404 not found) sounds: 1/247 + 0/8

~*~

[perseidlion]

I think I've figured out WTF is going on with Netflix, MAX, D+, Amazon, etc... cancelling TONS of shows. I mean, aside from the obvious greed and corporate mismanagement.

Those of you who are old like me remember that network TV used to have this thing called pilot season. It still exists in a limited form for networks, but it used to be the way all TV worked.

Back in the day, there'd be maybe 1-5 episodes of a show that would be aired (remember this was the era of 22 episode seasons). If the show was successful, they'd air the rest of the season. If it wasn't, it would be axed and disappear. Sometimes shows would be given half a season to do well, and then would be replaced with something called a mid-season replacement - basically an understudy of that show in case it underperformed/failed.

First season orders on streaming are the new pilot season. But instead of only a couple episodes airing, they dump the whole thing on their streamer to let it sink or swim. Unlike the days of cable TV where timeslots were limited, streamers can just chuck the full thing up there for extra content.

Sometimes I think they've already decided to not renew a show before it ever gets out there. Maybe their streaming data tells them the audience profile won't give them the big dollars. But it gave them something new to talk about and put in front of people even if they never intended to support it or give it another season. And the numbers were enough to at least make the production costs back, so why not?

This is deeply cynical and very corporate. But I think that's what the streamers are now. The unbridled creativity and investment of stories from peak/early streaming has been replaced with cold hard data.

And it's killing stories. It's killing faith in streamers. At least with the old pilot season model, you'd know a show was getting axed within a few weeks. Not months after you'd invested in a whole series arc.

Not always, but often when a show made it through pilot season, it would end up with a 2 season order, sometimes 3. You'd also know when a show was getting renewed because shows only really premiered in the fall and the winter. There wouldn't be all this waiting and watching for a renewal or cancellation that could come down at any time.

I'm not saying this was overall a better system. But at least people didn't get invested in stories as much and then have them taken away. There are obvious exceptions to this, of course (Firefly being the most famous) but I think that's why we're seeing such a graveyard of shows right now.

[patriotismforstetriol]

It's never a stated requirement, but all the characters we meet in Spirit Animals have an animal local to the region (or at least continent) of their ancestry.

Well, nearly all. All except three two black wildcats -- waist-height, sleek panthers -- summoned by Euran boys.

And look, far as I know, Europe's not got current or historical panther populations. Maybe it's a common enough thing in legends? I dunno!

But I've got a couple of other (more absurd) explanations.

What wildcats does Europe have? It has lynxes[1][2], and it has smaller European wildcats (size of a large housecat). The Trunswick boys' dad has a lynx companion, so you'd figure the similarities would be pointed out if black wildcats were also lynxes. So I'm going to rule out melanistic lynxes (there'd be the 'long tail' issue to answer to too).

Absurd idea 1: See, I'm pretty sure Brunhild's stone adder isn't a real animal. And if there's a real snake it's based on, I think, somehow, it does not have a venom that paralyses people and turns them to stone. So Erdas has animals that don't exist on Earth. (See also: rockback whales, probably, though maybe they're just domesticated right whales.)

So maybe Eura's black wildcats are one of these Erdas-exclusive species. To stick close to realism, though, I'd like to picture them as European wildcats scaled up to a much larger size. Keep those stout housecat-esque faces. Wildcats in Erdas are just that big.

Alternatively, absurd idea 2: You know what big cat never gets mentioned in the Spirit Animals books? Snow leopards. They'll talk about tigers and leopards and jaguars and cheetahs and lions and clouded leopards and mountain lions and lynx, and that covers pretty much all the larger cats. Except for snow leopards.

So this absurd theory is that they don't have snow leopards. On Earth, the natural range of snow leopards is in Central and Northern Asia. Does the Spirit Animals series ever show us central or northern Asian ecosystems? No. Maybe Zhong actually only has South and South East Asian ecosystems (seems unfair, but hey. Anyone want the patriotismforzhong username?).

Or... it could be that the writers combined all those central/northern Asian environments with the western/northern European environments as "Eura", while south/south east Asian + southern European environments (also not mentioned in the series), maybe, have been allocated to "Zhong".

This would mean the "snow leopards" of Erdas are Euran. And for some reason they're all melanistic.

Whatever. Picture how absurdly long Worthy's tail is in this scenario.

[cosmerelists]

Support Groups that are Needed in the Cosmere

[Spoilers throughout!]

Sure, Kaladin has invented therapy, but where are the highly specific, timeline-blind, Cosmere-spanning support groups that our heroes desperately need? Support groups like...

1. "My Parental Figure Tried to Murder Me and all I Got was this Stupid Trauma."

Vin: You grow up thinking your mom tried to kill you, but it turns out she was just spiking you to be controlled for an evil god. Vin: Not better. Charlie: Oh man, that's horrible! My dad just sent me to an evil sorceress he thought would kill me because I was just that embarrassing to him. Wax: My uncle, who raised me, tried to blow me up with my own butler! And that was just, like, the first murder attempt. Shallan (sweating): I really thought there'd be more "and I killed them back" by now.

2. "Kin-Killers Club Support Group"

Wax: Kin-Killer's...Club? Shallan: I thinks someone thought the alliteration would be jolly before realizing that this group probably shouldn't be. Raboniel: Some would claim that "kin-killing" must be specifically a blood relative, like a daughter, rather than a spouse. Dalinar: ...should I go? Wax: No, no, I think wives definitely count as family! Vin: How do we feel about in-laws? Father-in-law? Brother-in-law? Shallan: Hey, it's all trauma. Kaladin: What if you didn't kill your brother exactly but you feel like it's definitely your fault and the guilt eats you alive? Wax: Yeah, nixing the jolly alliteration was definitely a good idea.

3. "I Did Not Enjoy Being Enslaved"

Kaladin: I think, for me, the worst part was that by the time I had fallen that low, I kinda felt like I deserved it. For not protecting people. Kaladin: I think that's why I kept my slave brands for so long. Rlain: I never thought I deserved it. None of my people did. Crow: Hey, why is this group's name in the past tense? Some of us are STILL enslaved to the big stupid dragon, you know!

4. "Dead Brother Gang"

Kaladin: Uh, Shallan? Is it awkward to have me here? Shallan: Eh, it's okay. Narratively, I got over you killing my brother really quickly! Shallan: Sorry he killed, like, all of your friends. Kaladin: I think that's trauma for a different support group. Shallan: Ha ha yeah! I've been to so many it's hard to keep track. Jasnah: If the two of you are finished, perhaps the rest of us could also talk about our deceased brothers now? Llarimar: Uh, is it okay if our brother died but then later came back to life? His death was still, like, very sad. Marsh: Of course. Even brothers who don't remain dead can be grieved. Marsh: ...Sometimes they manage to annoy you more.

5. "Horses Suck So Much--Why Doesn't Anyone Else See It?"

Kaladin: ... Vin: ... Kaladin: Vin: ... Kaladin: I really thought we'd get more people. Vin: Me too!

6. "Killed Off For Another Character's Development"

Evi: I know my death gave my husband such a powerful backstory but...it would have been nice to be in the main narrative. Vin's mom: Hey, at least you got a name. Parlin: It sucks, but it must be nice that you were grieved, at least! Parlin: People are like, why was Parlin even a character? Kelsier: (sighs) Yeah, our deaths may help the main character grow...but at what cost? Evi (low voice): Are we sure he qualifies?

7. "I Really Thought That Guy Was Cool and then He Almost Murdered Me and I Felt Kind of Stupid"

Vivenna: Turns out you CAN'T trust mercenaries, even if they seem jolly. Shallan: Some men who bring you jam and bread are...bad. Siri: Even nerds can be evil. Hrathen: Sometimes the crazed, violence-prone, deeply unstable underling you think you can control for your own purposes turns out to be crazy, violent, unstable, and murderous. Vivenna: ... Shallan: ... Siri: ... Hrathen: What?

7. "Wronged By Hoid"

Kelsier: Ugh, that jerk. Punched me in the face. Sigzil: Abandoned me in the Bridge Crew. Not to mention that I have to run forever now, thanks to him. Jasnah: "Wronged" is perhaps strong, but I will say that he is not the ideal boyfriend. Riina: That son-of-bitch kicked me off of a perfectly fine planet! Amarem: He was quite rude to me, once. Or many times. Hoid: It's all so true. I get myself into SO much trouble sometimes. Hoid: Is there any greater victim of Hoid...than Hoid himself? Kelsier: YOU CAN'T BE HERE

[undercoverdonderwolk]

to add onto the weird behavior around WAGs i’d say that fans have the weirdest behavior with kelly piquet. i do think their reasons for hating her are valid, even without the age gap with max of it all, she just doesn’t seem to be a good person lmfao. but also a lot of the hate for her seems kind of… exaggerated to me? like they hate her in general and nitpick everything she does when that really isn’t the issue here. and when asked why they act like that they hide behind the excuses of the terrible stuff she’s done + her age gap with max.

to me it’s like yeah go ahead and hate her for being terrible but also… have you not considered the fact that this is a person max chooses to associate with? like i’m not saying having a terrible partner = you being a terrible person as well but. you get me.

and it IS weird that she said she had a magical night/connection with max from the first meeting when he was 18/19 that time (even weirder if the rumors she used to babysit him are true — where do people get that???). but if you’re going to hate on her can we please stick to these points that prove she is weird instead of fixating on literally everything she does??? lmfao some of it is veering too close into misogynistic territory to me

like just yesterday people were hating on her for saying that max is “aging” and trying to get him into a skincare routine (or moisturizer, at least). they were calling out the age gap, saying she’s the one that’s old and aging when 1.) it’s normal for women to want their partners to take care of themselves 2.) nowhere did she imply that max is aging BADLY and it NEEDS to be fixed with a 10 step korean skincare routine ASAP!!! 3.) them switching up and saying “erm actually YOU are the old one here” is giving classic ageism women face

just lots of weird behavior around imo. another one that struck me as weird in particular was that edited image going around a few weeks ago where someone removed her from a picture of her max and penelope like THAT IS HER DAUGHTER??? SHE IS THE MOTHER????? and it had thousands of likes too like. guys it’s getting weird what is happening here

this is so long sorry lol with all the WAG discussions here i just figured it’s time to spew my kelly piquet thinkpiece

i agree with you to a certain extent. but i think hating is kind of a useless term to use to be honest. if some rando chick makes you feel enough of a feeling to call it hate like, that's when people need to look inwards lmaooo. there's a difference between being critical of the institution that is a wag/athlete relationships and kinda being weirdly personal about it so as soon as someone's talking about 'hate' i'm like okay that's an opinion that's irrelevant to me because idc about her to the extent that it's that personal to her and me. but yeah you're totally right that like, most of the hate and the love for her seems to exist out of the same need to pookify max. either she's the evil evil woman who corrupted max and max needs to be saved from her or it's hashtag true love and it makes max a perfect boyfriend etc. both are p weird to me because it's like you all realize this is isn't about her right....you're using her to prop up max so it's still not hashtag feminism even if you claim it is lol though i will say the aging comment was weird to me lmaoooo. though it probably wasn't meant for public consumption so even weirder for someone to share that she said it. but if you turn the tables and it was a ten year older man talking about how his younger gf should be using skincare so she would keep looking young people would be freaking ouuttttttt. like if there was some dude in his mid thirties telling his mid twenties gf she wasn't allowed to gain weight and writing her insta comments etc there'd be outrage and for good reason idk why it should be any different the other way around tbh. i guess you could argue that's their thing and we shouldn't have an opinion but max can't stop making documentaries about his personal life and kelly v actively uses her relaysh with max for the clout and the money, which is fair but if you're gonna put it all out there, down to like sharing when your kid's first day of school is lol, people are going to have opinions. the editing her out thing was weird af. though i will say i think the 'GIRL DAD THAT'S A DADDDD THAT'S HIS KIDDDD' is just as weird tbh. he's gone out of his way to be like yo i'm not trying to be a step parent so for people to use her kid so they can uwufy hastag girldad (evil term) max falls in the same category as going to lengths to photoshop her out. it all comes down to the same thing: trying to make max look better and using a bunch of women/girls to do so

[gl1tchr]

Now im thinking about what if there were 2 of the more "i need a near-equal who can play "the game" or I'll explode" riddlers and 1 batman in some au gotham or whatever. What would happen? Would they see the other riddler as a more worthy opponent n stop messing around w the bat? They start barking and growling soon as they see the other like a territorial dog, but thats it? Would they try to get rid of the other no games? Would they make out? Team up?

Guess it depends on which riddlers are picked, but it's fun to think about.

I LIKE THIS PREMISE A LOT I definitely think the Riddlers ALL being together at once, there'd be way more like "okay.. lets stop for a minute and figure this out" save for the few Really Pushy Ones that will instigate no matter what [AK, 0Y, Hush, etc.]

BUT just two? The regular order of things isn't really disrupted, there's just ANOTHER Riddler. Like you said it definitely depends on the ones selected, but I think for the most part, they would immediately see it as competition first. The Riddler sees himself as the pinnacle of intelligence (in most cases, Some are more "aware" of themselves than others) so his BEST adversary would be himself.

and yeah I think they'd at least kiss Once to see how it made them feel

[raayllum]

Hello! They’re back! Hooray! I was wondering how you think ghosting functions as a spell? In the context of Rayla’s return key to the silver grove everyone who went in with her was similarly magically blacklisted by association upon visiting (probably non-permanently but it’s not like they’ve tested it) and Ethari was able to temporarily break it for all under her key simultaneously.

But outside of that do ghosted elves encountered in the wild still not show up? Or is it a security concern so it’s a being shut out of community life at home style punishment primarily do you think? Because Runaan presumed dead isn’t ghosted, so it’s theoretically possible his key could let Rayla in functionally unghosted if it’s individual entrance keys the spell applies to not the person’s body/their soul instead.

Anyway whether or not it becomes relevant in the show or clarified/discovered to such detail I figured you’d at least have an opinion that’s interesting!

Thank you!! That's very sweet

I get the sense that 1) most Moonshadow elves don't leave their village/forests and 2) Ghosting spells don't work outside members of the community. aka if Ethari went somewhere and saw Rayla, there might be distortion/think his eyes were playing tricks on him, but if an elf from another Moonshadow village other than the Silvergrove saw her, there'd be no problem. We kind of know this from the TDP reflections "Chasing Shadows" in which Rayla meets another Ghost known as Redfeather in Scumport, who's met enough Moonshadow Ghosts to know they typically change their name and that Rayla is an outlier.

I'll touch a bit more on 1) for what we know about Moonshadow elves too. The only discussion we see of anyone leaving the Silvergrove are assassins, and given that Moonshadow villages are presumably hidden by illusions, you have to already know they're there to get in, so it doesn't seem like the majority would trade directly with each other, and would maybe congregate in other places (the Hollow Wood) and then retreat back to their own communities.

For the Ghosting spell itself, it just seems like it's a widespread illusion that focuses on 1) the faces of the community, who have to communally do it and 2) subsequent illusioned erasure of the Ghosted. It only seems to 'activate' when the Key is used within the village to get through the spell that cloaks the village itself (illusion-ception lmao). The Ghosted spell spreading by association is also very Moonshadow / cycle-y ("I didn't kill anyone" "Your leader did. What's the difference?" / "They thought I ran away, just like my parents"). It's sad, too, cause it means if a Ghost has a family they want to bring home at one point just to introduce to other people / even give a kid up for a safe life in the village, they... can't, really. It's complete social exclusion / shunning

I do think they'll use Runaan's key to let Rayla back into the Silvergrove in S7 to witness his and Ethari's reunion / reunite with Ethari herself. Whether she or they will actively campaign for her to be let in (which leads to the screencap that seems like a trial) > the elders being like "you dare come back and show your face, now you must undergo it" we'll have to see, but I'll be curious if nothing else.

(It'd also be very cute if Callum comes with and is prepared to start dancing, Runaan looks at him in done surprise, and Rayla admits that you don't also have to dance to be let in. Then he gets all smug/bashful about her just wanting to dance with him all those years ago)

[wheelie-sick]

What are your thoughts on professional formal diagnosis vs. less formal professional labelling vs. peer-diagnosis vs. self-diagnsis when it comes to deafblind?

I understand the definition of deafblind as hearing and vision impairment where both are at an extent where one can't properly compensate for the other, even if both are much milder than profound hearing loss or legally blind. Because it's about the combination of them, not the individual severities, right?

This sounds like there'd be a lot of grey areas and with grey areas can often come clinical uncertainty or situations where most professionals won't touch the issue with a 3 meter stick due to complexity (such as multiple or rare disabilities).

So in the context of deafblindness, that's the scenario I think of when I say less formal or barely formal professional labels. By peer-diagnosis I mean other deafblind people sharing experiences with a person and going "that sounds like you are describing deafblindness". Self-diagnosis and formal diagnosis are self explanatory.

I know you're not a spokesperson for all, but I've seen you answer similar topics with insightful responses before, and figured I'd ask! The nuance of the deafblind label/dx is new to me and I'm learning a lot. (I am HoH+VI but this question isn't specifically about me.)

so, I'm probably not the best person to go to for this because I've been here for 9 days but I'm at least familiar enough with DeafBlindness from my history in the Deaf community that I'm going to share my preliminary thoughts. just be aware that, like, I've been here 9 days so I'm definitely not the best educated on the topic

if you have diagnosed visual impairment (uncorrectable- not vision fully corrected with glasses) and hearing loss I think you can say you're DeafBlind. no one with any combination of the two is going to be unimpacted by the interactions of those particular disabilities. the resources I've linked for this in the past all make the point that even if you have mild hearing loss and a mild visual impairment you are still DeafBlind.

"These problems can occur even if hearing loss and vision loss are mild, as the 2 senses work together and 1 would usually help compensate for loss of the other." - NHS inform

so, if you're diagnosed with hearing loss and visual impairment then yes, you are DeafBlind and can use that label. this has been pretty reflected in the DeafBlind community. I used to be on the DeafBlind side of Twitter and Deaftwt in general loved healthy discourse. naturally, there was discourse about who is DeafBlind, pretty much everyone agreed that if you have sensory loss in both hearing and vision then you are DeafBlind.

it is a label you can just apply to yourself if you meet the prerequisites (hearing loss and visual impairment)

I think with self diagnosis it gets tricky. I'm not the biggest fan of people self diagnosing hearing loss because people are so often wrong. I think people struggle to find the line where things go from "difficulty hearing" to "hearing loss" not to mention APD. I have rarely seen people self diagnose hearing loss and be right about it. I certainly won't stop people, but I usually warn them away from making d/Deafness their identity. DeafBlindness is an identity first and a diagnosis second.

with vision loss it's also complicated. while vision loss is a little more apparent (especially if you experience it suddenly) if you develop enough vision loss that it's impacting your functional life (a prerequisite to visual impairment, visual impairment is about functionality. uncorrectable vision loss is not automatically visual impairment) you really need to be seen by a doctor. a lot of causes of vision loss are correctable if you catch them soon enough! if you wake up one morning and suddenly can't see you need to go to the ER, that's a medical emergency (as in, like, you might be having a stroke or similar life threatening medical event)

I think peer diagnosis is even more complicated. if your peers are DeafBlind then I'd take their word over hearing-sighted peers. if a d/Deaf person is telling you that your experiences sound like hearing loss and a BVI person is telling you that your experiences sound like visual impairment that doesn't mean nothing. even with hearing-sighted peers I generally am supportive of peer diagnosis. hearing peers telling someone to see an audiologist because someone keeps missing what they're saying is often what leads people to a hearing loss diagnosis. peers, anecdotally, are more likely to accurately identify hearing loss. I'm not as familiar with how accurately peers recognize visual impairment.

[shadowcatzone]

i feel like there'd be a pretty big difference between when blade finds out dan feng had an egg before hatching rebirth, because blade on the surface who just isn't emotional about anything but 1.death and 2.imbibitor lunae, and like... the subconscious. Maybe whatever bits and pieces are left of yingxing, figuring out the egg MUST be his, and like. You can probably hear the excitement three consciousnesses away at least.

[journey-to-the-attic]

I just read your recent Au that you and @sythesizeher are talking about and im in love with the AU!

But i have many questions soo..

1. What is Barbatos’s role here? Im still gonna guess he’s still Diavolo’s assistant but what’s the story here?

2. Would it be right for me to assume that Solomon had started his friendship with Mephisto because of his connection to Diavolo’s dad but now with Diavolo’s dad dead, Mephisto is probably on the run due to the lawsuits?

3. Lucifer is a lawyer so Ace Attorney shenanigans? OH WAIT MAMMON CAN BE HIS ASSISTANT or we have could the brothers take turns being his assistants?

4. Wait does that mean Simeon is the prosecutor here? (Wait why the hell am i making this so ace attorney, this isnt the right AU)

5. Would it be interesting if Zhao is the Devildom king but because he’s too busy, he accidently neglected Ik like JTTA? Would be cool parallel to Diavolo..

6. Adding to question number 2, what role does the newspaper club have in this AU?

7. This isnt really a question but “Solomon trying to expose Diavolo for his dad’s crimes but ended up helping him make the public love him” kinda reminds me of Candace trying to expose her brothers thing from Phineas and Ferb

And that’s all for now because im way too tired and in need of sleep, hope you have a good day/night!

- 🐧 Anon

hoho okay here we go!!!

1. barbatos - in this au the equivalent of the chronodae are the 'believers'; barbatos is hired as diavolo's tutor, which is a cover for him being tasked with keeping him from finding out about all the demon stuff. barbatos ends up having second thoughts over the years, and he's the one who first clues diavolo into looking into his dad's weird cult stuff after he dies, and promises to assist him in making things right

2. solomon and mephisto - similarly to barbatos, mephisto was originally in on the whole thing, but (as in jtta) he got more of the dirty work - sourcing the things they'd need, covering up their tracks, so on. he's a lot more taken in by sonno's stuff than barbatos, and such he only starts having second thoughts towards the end of sonno's life before that though - solomon does notice that he seems very in on the company's inner dealings, even though mephisto doesn't seem to have any good business sense, so he does befriend him to try and get some secrets out. mephisto sees right through him, but he's sort of intrigued anyway, so they end up in a sort-of-friendship, with a lot of back n forth and song n dance once mephisto does get cold feet though, he confides in solomon very cryptically and vaguely, then just disappears - soon after this, sonno suddenly starts deteriorating and dies, because it turns out he's BAD at managing the demon stuff without an assistance. solomon assumes mephisto vanishing was him running away, like a coward (similar to how he assumes he was abandoned in jtta)

3/4. the lawyers- i'm not at all clued into the lawyer world, but afaik it's not generally a "this firm is for defence attorneys, and this firm is for prosecutors"? i think (especially since they're an independent and very new firm) lucifer's firm is doing business consultations and such, and they partner with diavolo's company as per his agreement with lucifer

i reckon lucifer and satan are the only ones who genuinely see law as their career path (which could be a source of the luci-satan conflict), the others see it more as something they're helping with while trying to figure out what they really want to do

the celestial law firm is like a family business, so the brothers grew up accepting they'd take that path - since they followed lucifer when he got kicked out though, now they have a lot more freedom (as for simeon, he really just wants to be a writer, but he's also very dedicated to the family business)

but i reckon there'd be at least one big dramatic trial against diavolo - potentially as the Big Turning Point that might reveal the secret of ik's nature - and simeon would be the prosecutor, and lucifer the defence! so we can still have ace attorney shenanigans in that respect

5. zhao - i find it so hard to imagine zhao as a genuine demon king, but maybe that's because i associate the role so much with sonno in jtta? i imagined that ik-the-demon is born from some past ik-the-human, and zhao is human-ik's father. maybe he turns up as a genuine ghost in the office building later on (which could make for big big drama, because ik doesn't remember her life as a human)

6. newspaper club - paranormal investigators! solomon joins forces with them at some point, but somehow never gets to meet their elusive fourth member, despite that fourth member being the main source of all their information

7. phineas and ferb - Yes

[obsidiancreates]

Gray Area (Remastered 4 years later)

(I originally wrote Gray Area in June of 2019 when I was but a little 15 year old, and figured well, why not remaster it for Good Omens Season 2? If you're unfamiliar with the original fic, it's an AU where the two never swapped places at the end of Season 1 and their punishments result in the discovery that they're truly On Their Own Side. Figured it'd be a nice little Balm on the fandom right now, heh.)

———————————————————————————————————–

It should be a happy occasion.

The Earth is safe. Adam renounced his powers, his no-longer-father, his role in the Apocalypse. The Plan was halted. The humans were all free to go about their lives, continuing on as if nothing happened, because as far as most of them knew nothing had. As a good, selfless, caring angel, Aziraphale should be happy.

Instead, he's using all of his self-control to keep from falling apart.

He knew there'd be punishment. They both knew. But somehow, it had escaped his realization that their punishments would part himself and Crowley. It's not as if he's unused to them being parted, but...

But he has a feeling that this time, they may not return to each other. For the first time in six thousand years, he truly feels... their last moments together have come and gone.

Even as these feelings twist and gnaw inside of him, he keeps his head held high. He won't allow Gabriel and the others to have the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He has no regrets about saving the earth, and he will make that clear to them.

He's sure Crowley is doing the same- in his own way, of course. But the sentiment is probably the same, or at least quite similar.

He does hope they haven't tied Crowley to the same kind of chair, though. His own is terribly uncomfortable. The chairs in Heaven always are. It's plain, it's stark-white, it's all angles, and just from sitting on it he can tell it's some kind of hollow design made to make him feel unsupported. Alone. Abandoned.

All it makes him feel is an aching wish for his bookshop and it's comfortable seats.

The room is much like the chair. White, empty, uncomfortable. Heaven is consistent, if not pleasant. Perhaps it should bother him, how the bright light of the empty room sears into his eyes, too bright, too blazing. The light of Heaven, of the Almighty herself, causing an Angel discomfort to gaze upon.

But he's never liked this light, not since he discovered other forms of it. He prefers warm, soft lighting, filtered in through dusty windows or cast by a flickering candle.

Maybe he's not a proper angel, then. The thought twists him up inside even more, scraping away in his chest. Why isn't he? Aren't angels meant to care, to heal, to spread good wherever they go? Aren't they meant to protect, to watch over, to love?

If doing so make him an improper angel... well, perhaps that's for the best. Even if the idea still feels wrong.

... A proper angel probably wouldn't care so deeply for a demon, either.

Crowley. Aziraphale is sure he himself it to be killed for his actions. He knows Crowley was sure he'd be facing the same. How is still a mystery. These are to be their last moments, their final thoughts, their final sights.

With this realization, the light becomes upsetting for a new reason.

He's facing his final moments, and instead of his beloved bookshop or dearest friend, companion, the one being who truly knew and understood him-

Instead of anything Aziraphale was fond of, the final thing he'll see is some overexposed angels smirking at him.

———————————————————————————————————–

It was never going to be a truly happy occasion.

He'd known it from the moment he'd been given the baby. That even if he and Aziraphale stopped The Apocalypse, someone would be held responsible. And then things got more complicated, and they had to become more direct, and many humans got involved-

And now Crowley stands in a dark, dingy room, the sound of flickering half-dead fluorescents mixing with the sound of Beelzebub's flies, the murmur of hundreds of demons pressed into the small viewing space behind a window as Crowley stands before the demons just waiting for his demise.

He ignores the smell, the damp moldy musk mixing with rot of all kinds both earthly and not. If he's to die, truly and completely, he'll at least try to ruin the moment for the rest of them.

He hopes Aziraphale is doing the same, up above. He must be. He's enough of a bastard to, deep down, and if there's ever a moment to allow that to shine through it's now.

And so Crowley smirks, just a bit, just enough to see Hastur's mouth twitch into a scowl (well, a deeper scowl).

"Nice place here. Bit bare, though." Crowley looks around. "And Angel said I was minimalist."

"We built this place for you specially," Beelzebub says. "It shall be your of trial, and it shall be your place of destruction."

"Not much of a trial," Crowley mutters. Not that he's surprised. "What'll it be, then? An eternity in the deepest pit?"

He knows it won't be. They're all far too excited for it to be as simple as that.

Hastur all but confirms it with the cruelly gleeful grin that makes it's way onto his face. He's relishing in this, the sheer enjoyment just oozing from him. It's so potent that Crowley finds himself leaning away a bit, trying to physically escape the way it seems to seep from Hastur's very being.

"No, no. We're going to do something even worse. Letting the punishment fit the crime."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? What kind of punishment fits his crime? They didn't plan for someone stopping the Apocalypse, and even if they did they couldn't have planned for how it was stopped.

And then Crowley hears footsteps.

They're coming from the single tight hallway he'd been lead down mere moments ago. They're quick, purposeful, and the shoes sound far too nice to be in Hell. For all the purpose in the sound of the stride, though, there's something that can't be hidden. The steps are quick not just in a way that says Efficiency, but in a way that screams discomfort.

It's almost intriguing, really. Crowley turns to look at the entrance to his trial room.

And watches Archangel Micheal step through.

"Well, that's unlikely." The words spring forth from his mouth before he even knows they're coming.

And his eyes flick down to something in Micheal's hands.

A pitcher.

Holy water. So that's what Hastur means. It must've been his idea.

Crowley is to die by holy water, his transgression so great not only in Hell's eyes, but Heaven's as well. It's unsurprising, truly, but as he watches Micheal step closer to the bathtub he'd really thought was just a sign they'd hastily redecorated a bathroom something dawns on him.

Heaven and Hell are working together on his punishment. Which means it's possible that they're working together for...

“What have you done with Aziraphale?” The words are seethed, but desperate. He knows, and yet he can't help himself.

And he hears Beelzebub laugh. “You two seemed so desperate not to live without each other-”

“-That we decided to do you both a favor and ensure you don't have to,” Micheal interrupts. They look at Crowley with a cruel glint in their eye. "Call it mercy."

“And we thought it would kill you to know your little lover boy was going to die because of you,” Beelzebub adds. Honesty, more honest than the angel, but not because it's right, because it's painful.

Crowley watches Micheal fill the tub with holy water, and only one thought runs through his mind.

Aziraphale is up there, alone, and going to die.

Aziraphale is going to die.

———————————————————————————————————-

“Ah, Aziraphale.” Gabriel’s voice booms out from behind. He strides into Aziraphale's eyeline, taking his place between and slightly in front of Uriel and Sandalphon. Aziraphale does his best not to glare, because if he's going to die then he's going to die with dignity. These angel think him wrong for finding Earth, humans, and so much more worth saving. They think him a bad angel for it.

He won't allow them the pleasure of anything they may take as evidence they're right.

... Of course, pointing out some ineffective choices in their retrieval of him is only... right, to do. Helpful, even. As a good angel is.

So Aziraphale looks Gabriel in the eye and says, “You could have just sent a message. A kidnapping, in broad daylight?”

He can almost feel Crowley's approval, hear the proud insistence that Aziraphale is a bastard deep down. Perhaps, if he keeps this up, he'll be able to visualize Crowley again before he's executed.

But Gabriel doesn't react. He just turns to Uriel and asks, "Have we heard from our new associate?"

"He's on his way."

Gabriel grins, a bright souless grin that fits all too perfectly with the room around them. "He's on his way." He looks at Aziraphale, even crouches a bit, getting close. "I bet you're going to like this. I really do! And I bet, you didn't see this one coming."

If he hadn't before, he does now. The glee, the bragging, the sheer arrogant nature of it all.

Hellfire. They've gotten ahold of hellfire.

And if they've gotten ahold of hellfire...

Micheal is absent from this.

Aziraphale's heart drops. Crowley.

An exchange. He and Crowley worked together to save the world, angel and demon on the same team. Now Heaven and Hell copy them, angels and demons, to kill them both.

“You don’t get this view down in the basement!” a voice calls out. A demon walks, walks over. Simply steps on the grounds of Heaven, unharmed, given special privileges. A demon allowed into Heaven to kill and angel just for love.

The demon throws his hands out. Hellfire shoots out from them, hitting a small circle on the floor and bursting into a great blaze! The fire shoots up and twists, curls, forming a tornado of demonic flames in the middle of Heaven itself. Aziraphale can feel the heat from where he sits, so close he could swear his hair begins to singe.

Gabriel stands a safe distance away. "So, with one act of treason, you avoided the war. You ruined our entire plan, everything we've worked for, for six thousand years."

Gabriel is doing a much poorer job of keeping his anger in check than Aziraphale is his own emotions. Perhaps he's just less used to them. Perhaps he just doesn't care.

Aziraphale knows what he says next could push Gabriel over the edge. But he's about to die anyway, and it needs to be said. "Well, I think the greater good-"

“Don’t talk to me about the greater good sunshine, I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel!” 

“We’re meant to be the good guys, for heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale lets his desperation, his disgust, his disappointment pour out with the words.

“Well, for Heaven’s sake, we’re meant to make examples out of traitors. So, into the flame.”

The ropes tying him to the chair fall.

Aziraphale stands.

He'd never be ale to make a run for it, and they know it. He'd be caught, brought back, and they'd get a little laugh, a bit of spectacle. They won't be getting it from him.

He straightens his bowtie. He tries not to think about Crowley, down in the dank, dark puts of Hell, likely facing down an execution by holy water, mocked and tormented as he's pushed or prodded into a deadly vat of something meant to be pure, to be clarifying, renewing.

Humans are so hopeful. They believe in such beautiful things. Aziraphale envys them for the countless, and perhaps final, time.

He swallows. "Well... lovely knowing you all. May we... meet on a better occasion." He gives them a slight smile.

"Shut your stupid mouth, and die already." Gabriel return the smile with no remorse, no reflection. Just emptiness for show.

Aziraphale's smile falls away.

He looks into the fire.

May we meet on a better occasion, Crowley.

He closes his eyes and steps into the flames.

———————————————————————————————————-

Micheal could have simply Miracle'd the bathtub full. But they're here for the spectacle of it, he's sure. The Snake Of The Garden OF Eden, the one who caused the Original Sin and Hell's greatest disappointment, and now the reason an angel is allowed into Hell just for an execution.

He's not sure who they've sent up to hell. He wants to grab Micheal, to demand they take him there, to snatch Aziraphale away (if he's even still in the universe) and take them both as far away as possible.

But he can't. Instead, he stands, watching the tub slowly fill, hearing Micheal assure the water is the holiest it can be, watching Hastur test the claim for the whole crowd to see with a demon who stood in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Micheal leaves. Crowley imagines whoever went up to Heaven will want to stay and watch. Maybe Micheal wants to stay and watch as well, but can't stand the sight and smell of Hell anymore. It's a cruel thing to subject anyone too, and crueler still to make someone have their final moments in.

Cruelty is Hell's specialty, after all. But Crowley thinks Micheal would fit right in if it weren't for that blindingly white outfit. That's all that separates them from the demons watching Crowley now, really.

Beelzebub looks almost bored as they lean on their shoddy throne. "Demon Crowley, I sentence you to extinction by holy water. Have you anything to say?"

He has a lot to say. Most of it cussing them out, some of it shaming, some of it just insults he's held back for thousands of years just to keep himself off their radar. But none of that will be satisfying now.

None of it matters.

His Angel is up there, facing down the same thing he is. Putting on a brave, probably irritatingly polite face, if he's feeling the same sense of Meaninglessness that Crowley is now.

So he takes a deep breath. He thinks of Aziraphale, so he can enjoy his last moments. He hopes his Angel is giving Heaven a rough time, at least somewhat.

"This is a new jacket," Crowley ends up saying, really just to have something to say. "And I'd hate to ruin it."

They let him take it off, and his pants, and his shoes. He keeps on his undergarments and his socks, and stares down into the water. After a moment, he takes off his glasses too.

This is it.

This is the end.

He's heard humans have their loves flash before their eyes. He wouldn't mind if he experienced that now. As long as it's mostly the times he spent with his Angel.

"Go on already," Beelzebub says, still sounding bored. "Or I'll have Hastur push you in."

You were more than enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, Crowley thinks.

And he gets in.

———————————————————————————————————-

Agony.

Agony, burning, excruciating pain. The feeling of every atom of one's being, burning, being destroyed, destroyed so totally and so completely that barely even a memory remains.

Aziraphale had expected stepping into Hellfire to be all of that and worse.

... Yet, instead, it feels rather like... a sauna.

A badly managed sauna, one that's a bit too hot to be truly relaxing and instead tips into unpleasant, but nonetheless no more than a sauna. It's so close to being nice, in fact, that he cracks his neck and allows himself to imagine that's what it is for a moment, sighing.

When it's more than a couple of seconds, he opens his eyes, a bit surprised to find he still has eyes to open. He can't complain about it, though. They open to the wickedly amusing sight of Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon all staring, and gaping.

And all quite a bit further away than when he'd initially stepped in.

He smiles at them. They step back further.

Gabriel holds up a shaking hand, pointing in disbelief. "It... may be worse than we thought."

Aziraphale shifts his shoulders, his wings feeling especially warm, even stinging now. He shifts them again, trying to stretch them, bringing them in so he can get a look at the damage-

Damaged, perhaps.

But not ruined.

His wings smolder at the tips, the feathers smoking yet remaining whole. The Hellfire licks at his feathers, singeing them, burning, and yet seemingly unable to consume them. The smoke seems to almost stain them, and yet staining is the worst he can see.

In fact, it's not even that bad. The white of his wings is gone. The outermost tips continue to smolder and darken, yet never growing darker than the smoke itself, never fully blackening. Higher up the feathers are a soft, delicate gray, the kind of gray he might chose for a pillow to put in Crowley's favorite chair in the bookshop. And between the two it's a gradient, a gradual shift from one to the other.

He stares for a long, long moment. They're so different now. So un- angelic.

And yet... he rather likes them.

And as it dawns on him that he's not dying, not in the least, and that he might even be able to stand in this hellfire for hours and continue to live, well-

Well, if he's okay-

Aziraphale looks up, and beams. "It seems that The Almighty has other ideas for me." Perhaps untrue, perhaps truer than he believes, and he'll truly never know, but that doesn't matter. The angels staring at him in horror likely believe it, and that's good enough. "I was feeling a bit chilly in here, it's much colder than I remembered it being, so thank you. For the fire."

The only sound is that of the roaring, raging fire he still stands in the center of.

"May I... take my leave now?"

Gabriel nods, slowly, mouth parted just slightly, just enough to show his universe-rattling shock. "I think that would be best."

Aziraphale smiles at him once more and steps out of the fire, his smoke-stained wings flared around him.

"Thank you."

———————————————————————————————————-

After what he'd seen in his apartment, Crowley had expected it to be quick. Painful, searing, an agony unlike anything he'd ever felt. But still, quick.

Now he sits in the tub, all eyes on him in horror, and he can't help the way it brings him a sort of glee. He raised his arm from the water and flicks it at the window separating him from the populous of Hell, their screams of alarm and the sizzling of the unholy glass drowned out by his sharp laugh.

He's fine.

His skin is a bit red, irritated, like a sunburn or a heat-rash. But those are minor, minor, as he sits in the tub of holy water and all of Hell watches him swish it around like it's nothing.

He looks over at his executioners. "I don't suppose anyone here has a rubber duck?"

Hastur is practically cowering behind Beelzebub's throne, eyes wide, mouth agape in complete disbelief. Beelzebub and Dagon aren't much better off, keeping a great distance between themselves and Crowley's almost carefree splashing and flicking. Crowley is not as cruel as the other demons, not by a long shot, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying the show as he flicks water at the window once more.

"He's not one of us, anymore." Beelzebub can't hide the tremor in their voice.

Crowley lifts his wings out of the tub in the grandest splash yet, making the demons in the room with him shout out and back up as far as possible! He allows himself a little smile, a little smirk, bringing his wings back down to cradle him so they can fit in the tub-

And as they come into view, his smile drops. Not out of fear, but surprise.

His wings are different.

The deepest black of Hell is gone. He holds the tip of one wing closer to examine it. It's hard to tell the exact shade in the dim lighting of the room, but he knows, without a doubt, that his feathers are now gray.

A dark gray, a gray like a stormcloud rolling in from the seaside, but gray all the same. And there the holy water gathers and rolls down, droplets of it making their way off of his wings and back into the tub, they leave behind streaks of even lighter grays in their wake. Some streaks are only slightly lighter in color, while others are nearly white (but not white, not truly), and more than that are streaks of an almost silver shade, glistening and glimmering, perhaps from the water, perhaps from something else.

Hastur makes a sound like he's choking on a scream. Beelzebub seizes the moment of Crowley's distraction to rush to the window.

"What are you looking at! Nothing to see here, nothing to see!"

They shoo the crowd of demons away, keeping one eye on Crowley at all times. He's done splashing, now. He looking into the water, still as clear as ever. Not a drop of discoloration, as though he wasn't even sitting within it.

A demon sitting in holy water, unharmed. Though perhaps, not a demon. Not anymore.

And if a demon can survive a bath of holy water and come out as the same, yet something else...

Perhaps an angel can survive a bath of Hellfire in the very same way.

"I've come for the- oh, Lord." Micheal freezes in the mouth of the hallway.

Crowley turns to look at them, grinning, newly washed wings sloshing the water out of the tub and making Beelzebub scream and scramble further away. "Micheal! Miracle me up a bath towel, would you?"

"I-I don't- how are you-"

"Oh, it's been a wonderful bath," Crowley says, grinning in a way that's sharp, satisfied, the last word nearly a hiss. "But I think I'm done now."

Micheal, still in shock, does hand over a bath towel. It's pure white, fluffed in the way only a brand-new bath towel can be. As Crowley reaches out to grab it and splashes even more water onto the now ever-sizzling ground, she instinctively jumps away.

He still manages to grab the towel.

"I think," he says, standing, letting the water run harmlessly off of him, "That it would be best if I was left alone for a while."

All who remain, demon and angel alike, nod silently.

Crowley gets out, dries off, and tosses his towel towards the cluster of demons huddled at the farthest back corner of the room, and saunters out with his clothes and a quick sharp smile at Micheal.

And as soon as he's far enough away, he rushes back to Earth.

———————————————————————————————————- 

Aziraphale takes a moment to lean against the door of his shop once he's inside. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, sliding down to the floor.

With a quick miracle (how he's still capable of them, who is allowing them, he as no idea anymore) the door locks and the window curtains shut.

Alone, in the privacy of his shop, his home, he brings out his wings to look at in light he knows.

They're...

They're beautiful. Truly, beautiful. The darkened edges, the smoothness of the gradient, the lightest feathers at the highest point being so pale but still so clearly gray, not a bit of white to be seen yet not a bit of black either, so blended. They gleam as light hits them, shining almost like silver, but without direct light they look soft, simple, and they seem to match his bookshop now in a way they hadn't before.

They are also not, the wings of an angel.

But they aren't the winds of a demon, either.

They're something Different entirely, and... he quite likes that about them. More than he expected to.

And if he's right...

He stands and quickly moves to the phone, still shaking ever so slightly as he picks up the handset of his phone and begins to dial Crowley's number, and shaking worse with each number added.

If he's wrong, if Crowley hadn't-

If he's alone now-

He takes another steadying breath. He can't allow himself to think like that, not yet.

He's just one number away from making the call when the door opens, the bell ringing. Only a miracle could unlock it, and Aziraphale's heart soars as a familiar, cherished voice calls out.

"Angel!"

He drops the phone and runs, runs back into the main room. "Crowley!"

And before he knows it, he has the demon- or perhaps not demon- in a hug.

They don't really do this. And Crowley is stiff in the hug at first, frozen, unresponsive.

But after a moment, he hugs back. He's a bit boney, but doesn't matter because he's here. And though they don't really do this, they do now, just holding each other in the entrance of the bookshop for a long, long time.

When they finally pull apart, it's gentle, and they still hold onto each other's arms.

"Angel," Crowley breathes. He reaches up with one hand to remove his glasses, looking Aziraphale in the eyes as he lowers his hand right back to be held and to hold. "I um, I'm... I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, my dear." Aziraphale's smile is soft, but joyful, and so full of relief and care and love-

"I'm glad you are, too."

They hold each other's stares for another long moment, until Crowley's eyes flick to behind Aziraphale, and the latter realizes he still has his wings out to see. Suddenly Aziraphale feels a panic, almost a shame, as Crowley's expression is unreadable as he takes in Aziraphale's changed wings.

"Ah, yes!" Aziraphale quickly pulls his wings in close to his body. "It ah, it seems the Hellfire had a bit of a... side, effect?" He still can't quite read Crowley's expression. It's relief, shock, perhaps... perhaps a bit sad? No, not sad, but something... something. Something he's not used to seeing. He clears his throat. "I-I quite like them, truthfully." Though the longer this goes on, the less he's sure he does.

Until Crowley nods. "I do too, actually." He meets Aziraphale's eyes again, and one of those small, almost withheld smiles makes it's way onto his face. "And what do you think of mine?"

Crowley's wings unfurl, and Aziraphale gasps. Softly, with awe. If his won wings are beautiful, than Crowley's are gorgeous. They're a dark stunning and almost glimmering dark gray, not unliek the scarf Crowley likes to wear, with streaks of varying shades of lighter gray all throughout. And yet, as the shades vary within his wings, Aziraphale realizes with a bit of something... unknowable, but enjoyable, that the shades in Crowley's wings match the shades in Aziraphale's exactly.

"They're... amazing," he breathes. He looks back into Crowley's eyes, knowing he's probably making the most ridiculus face in his elation, but he doesn't care. "Do you think- well, do you think this is because we're on our own side now? And-and perhaps, She may have had something to do with this?"

"Who knows, Angel? Who care? We're not apart of all that anymore. We can do anything we want now, anything in the world, without worrying about anyone watching us!"

Aziraphale takes in the look on Crowley's face, the freedom, the excitement, and he feels the same feelings in his own heart. "Anything," he repeats. "How about we start... with lunch? At the Ritz?"

And Crowley smiles back, putting his sunglasses back on. "Lunch it is."