#cause it turns out these books are even better when you re-read them as an adult

[haldora]

"I ran to him. He lifted me in both hands, clutching my arms ever so gently, and tucked his face against my neck. From the soles of my feet up my back through my arms and my neck and scalp, I felt it. Where he flung me I didn't know. Was it our bed or some hasty cushions he found in another closer salon? "Give it to me," I said sleepily, and when it came into my mouth, I was gone."

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[graysweatsgrayhoodie]

Idk why but I really like the idea of George being in a sweet and loving relationship with someone who is ready to throw hands with Fred at any given moment.

George and her making heart eyes at each other while her and Fred are silently plotting each others demise.

George laying in his bed, kicking his feet while he re-reads old letters from her, while Fred is laying in his own bed planning his prank to dye her hair vomit-green.

George would never pick sides, but he did get caught in the cross fire quite a bit.

One time, Fred tried to hex her books to make them weigh as if they were made of solid rock. However, George was the one who usually carried her books for her anyway. She tried to get him to let her carry at least some of them so it wouldn’t strain him so bad, but he insisted he was fine (the sweat on his brow and crease on his forehead said otherwise, but she knew better than to argue). Still he laughed with Fred about the joke, saying they should pull it again on someone else, mostly so that next time he could laugh along again, this time without his arms being sore for the days following.

She had tried to get Fred back the following day at dinner. She had cast an illusion spell on Fred’s food to make it look like his pasta had turned into dozens of little snakes writhing around in sauce. She had gotten the reaction she was hoping for as Fred let out a loud yelp and jumped up from his seat, throwing his plate in the air. Unfortunately, you hadn’t planned for Fred’s plate to land upside down right on top of George’s head, sauce and noodles sliding down his face.

Again he laughed along, finding Fred’s freaked out reaction funny, even if it meant he would have to take a shower before their date night that night.

While everyone else was always convinced that Fred and her would eventually kill each other, George saw their relationship in a different light. He always told them that the reason they did these things to each other was because, deep down, they both cared for each other and never really wanted to see each other in any real harm.

They both called him mad.

After she graduated from Hogwarts, George offered her a job at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, though he knew Fred would never agree to it. It took a lot of convincing and begging on George’s part, letting Fred know of her incredible organizational skills that both the twins severely lacked. Fred was only fully convinced when he saw the back room, that had been nearly impossible to sort through on a good day, had been organized so neatly a two-year-old could find the product they were looking for (she had to keep Fred in mind, of course). Besides, with her working there, Fred had every opportunity to send curious kids in her direction, telling them to test their products out on her, hoping to see her covered in boils or with a large purple tongue. She, of course did the same thing to him (it being in her favor more often than not as kids weren’t too keen on pranking such a pretty lady, much to Fred’s frustration and George’s agreement).

When George lost his ear, they had both silently agreed to put a hold on their shenanigans, both of them doing their parts to take care of him and not cause him too much stress.

That lasted a week.

Fred had superglued all of her shoes to the floor, making it very difficult for her to get to work in the morning. She retaliated by jinxing all his ties so that no matter how he tied them, the front strand would always be shorter than the back strand.

At least George had a nice relaxing week. It only took him getting his ear blown off.

When the war had reached its peek, and the Battle of Hogwarts began, all three of them were there to fight against the Dark Lord and his minions. She found herself fighting alongside Fred when she heard the beginnings of the wall behind them crumbling, meaning it was about to fall, and right on top of them. Fred hadn’t noticed, as he was making a comment to Percy, so she ran over to him quickly, tackling him to the ground, mostly out of the way, as the wall behind them fell. Some rocks and bricks landed on top of them, her taking the brunt of it as she was laying on his body, arms covering their heads. The fallen wall had rendered her unable to walk, and seeing as this place was swarming with enemies, Fred scooped her up and took her somewhere safer, sending curses and hexes toward anyone who tried anything funny.

George expressed how grateful he was after the battle had ended, thanking them both for saving each others lives and proving his point about them caring about each other.

“‘Saving each others lives,’” they had both scoffed. “Please, they would have been just fine without me.”

They would not have been.

“Besides,” they both continued, “I only helped them because if they had died, then George would be all mopey and sad about having to live the rest of his life without them. That’s all.”

But that day, they had both gotten their confirmation that neither of them hated each other nearly as much as they let on, and that maybe George was right.

Of course, they could never admit that, though. Because that would mean telling George he was right, and he would never let that go.

[v3nusxsky]

hi uhmm, can i request a larissa x reader where reader got drowned on a lake or smth, and larissa saves the reader and takes care of them. I have no clue why i requested this but maybe because i experienced it a long time ago. If you don't like the idea, that's alright and take your time <33

- 🥀 anon

Drowning| H&c

*Authors note~ I also experienced this 🥀anon so I'm sorry you've had this experience and I'm always here to talk to if you want someone who can definitely relate*

Trigger warnings~ drowning, bullying to r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

It's really unfair how something innocent can be turned into something horrible with a second. School was always something you you found to be difficult, not because of the work but because you never seemed to fit in with your peers. Here at Nevermore and in your Normie school before, it seemed you didn't fit in anywhere. Since Nevermore was a boarding school you'd found it harder to escape your peers. You knew first hand going to an adult would only make it worse but also not wanting to continue with the constant teasing and unkind words.

That's why you decided one weekend to stroll around Nevermore woods until you found a nice little spot by the lake to quietly read your book. From then on that spot became your spot. The water calmed you immensely and even as winter approached and the lake began to be frozen over more often than not you couldn't help but be mesmerised but it's stunning beauty. A place where you can just be you.

Unknown to you, you had been discovered and followed to your little spot while you were having a particularly stressful weekend. Parent's weekend was approaching and your parents just let you know they refused to come and see their eldest daughter when your sister Dahlia Faye had a match on that weekend. Theses matches occurred every other weekend but there was only one parents weekend yet they choose her like they always would. It hurt, but you had no choice but to pick yourself up and dust yourself off, moving on with your life at Nevermore.

Your chosen book today being some of Shakespeares work, Macbeth as it was one of your favourite plays. The dark twists and tragedy seemingly gripping you just like your mood already has. The overcast day aiding the mood as you settled on the bank to read your play, in your head you were able to create images of what the words were describing almost as if they were really in front of you, but using your gift to conjure what your mind desires is exhausting and makes you vulnerable to prying eyes.

Your concentration on the play you missed their arrival, they snuck behind you and shoved a bag on your head, instincts immediately responded and tried to free yourself from them but they were too strong and they outnumbered you massively. It wasn't hard for them to drag your flailing limbs over to the frozen lake. Immediately, you sensed the danger you were in before they some how immersed you into the jet back icy water. A big shock to your system as you tried to push yourself back onto the ice, anything better than this, only to be held down by a hand. You were gonna die here, freezing cold and surrounded by those who had no care for you what so ever. Just your luck.

Honestly by the time the water caused you to black out you thought no one was gonna save you. But that's when you heard that voice, you thought you'd died and truly found heaven. The voice of an angel. But you couldn't see think or feel so how could this be heaven? Perhaps a cruel joke, or trickery of the devil?

You came round slowly, shivers wracking your body violently, lips painted an icy blue and soaked to the bone. "Mm whe re am I" you muttered as you voice shook with the force of your shivering. "Shhh it's okay, you're safe sweetheart, just need to get you warm before you catch your death" that voice again, a blanket layered on top of the many others you were snuggled into. A fire was roaring away across the room and you noticed a steaming cup near to you. "Sweetheart drink this, it will warm you up.  We really need to get you out of those wet clothes" the voiced murmured and that's when you realised who it belonged too.

"Pr rin cipal we ee ms?" You stuttered as your teeth chattered together. "That's right, I saw what happened and came as quick as I could, they are all expelled by the way, won't be having any of that to anyone, please tell me if there's anything else I should know" she murmured to you offering you the cup to take into your frozen fingers. "Th an k youu" was all you managed before sipping your tea. "I want you to stay here sweetheart, I have to make sure your okay for parent's weekend."

"Wouldn't bother, aren't coming anyway" you mumbled avoiding your principals worried gaze. "Well you can spend it with me if you wish, I know it's not cool to be around your principal but I hate the thought of you alone sweetheart. So let's get you all nice and warm, then we can talk okay?"

Word count~ 911

[year2000electronics]

do you have any tips or suggestions for someone wanting to make their own oc story? your ocs and their stories are so insanely cool but i have no idea where i’d even begin to make one!

also happy y2kvr-versary ! late i know but it was still the ask blog that caused me to follow you and i’ve just stuck around for your other content after. :)

HMMMM lemme just spill a bunch of my thoughts all at once, this is just some stuff i personally like doing with my own oc stories! by no means is this a comprehensive list and i am not a professional!

1. accept the fact that you’re probably going to need minor/side characters. of course that isn’t always the case, there are story types that only focus on a handful of characters, but let’s use the reckoning as an example: even though i love all the characters there dearly, it’s about sinclair and his donning and subsequent subverting of the “mythological hero” mantle by taking on the vices’ challenge. montez and duncan, the other two archangels, are there to serve as a secondary antagonist in holy orders and bring some more life to the story’s world respectively, and That’s Okay. recognizing that not all your characters are gonna be the most specialest boys is a great place to start with structuring an oc story imo!

2. KEEP AT IT. the reckoning as it exists now didn’t truly come together until 2020, which is when the ask blog was made. cardine (the city the vices reside in) is such a key, important concept that drives the story along and the reckoning wouldn’t be nearly as good without it, and that only got introduced in one of the final drafts pre-ask blog!! reworks, practice with laying out the events, thinking and re-thinking of stuff and spending years with it is really good. it’s healthy. i mean a lot of great films and tv get ‘saved’ at the last minute from being terrible by one terrible concept being scrapped so revising and not being afraid to change things is your best friend

3. learn some rules. i’m of the firm belief that storytelling should be an all-access hobby for everyone, so you don’t have to read all of save the cat and then write out a full script or anything, but like. turn on a movie you like, or read a book you love. think about what they’re doing to convey primary themes to you. pick out the themes, actually, that’s good too. being able to pick up on themes that aren’t just being stated to you as if it’s dialogue from sonic heroes is a great teacher on how to subtly weave those themes into your story

4. don’t be afraid to break those rules! a lot of that stuff is great to pick up but at the same time they’re YOUR characters, and if you find yourself getting bored by playing too “by the book”, nobody said you can’t change how things work. for example, a lot of my oc stories have “villain protagonists” because i just really connect with the way ‘villains’ present themselves in media. if you find yourself fixating on a side character and brushing your main character aside? screw it! you can just make the story about them! what if a 7/11 clerk went on an adventure instead of the main guy!!

5. INSPIRATION IS YOUR FRIEND. WEAR IT ON YOUR SLEEVE. i don’t mean you have to publicly disclose every single thing you were inspired by, but the amazing digital circus is REALLY big right now, and gooseworx has told people IHNMAIMS and the raggedy ann movie were big inspos and she clearly loves those things because they uplift the work higher! (plus it gave people a new appreciation for those things) and, imo, understanding what inspires you and celebrating it is a lot better of a mindset than going into something out of sheer spite (like you’ll see a lot of people online making very inflammatory “i alone could fix a piece of media that had to go through an entire writer’s room as well as corporate mandates, gosh why doesn’t everyone just Make Things Good?” type posts on social media, and i find myself straying more and more away from that). best example i can think of are all those very ill-fated “original alien stories” that su criticals made back in the day that were even more confusing than the gems and everyone had to pretend that “of course it makes more sense for the aliens to be flowers, gosh, why didn’t rebecca sugar think of this? we’re so smart”. my point is hate and shame can fizzle out quickly but creativity is forever

6. and of course, always make sure you’re actually having a good experience with the process. fun, catharsis, importance, etc. if it sucks, you can literally hit the bricks. i say that with experience because before my original superhero story existed (iris of the storm), there was another (problem students). it was dormant as a story for a really long time because i had accidentally made a superhero story without any of the superhero tropes i loved, but i couldn’t just… delete it all! OH WAIT. YES I COULD. i started it all over and got rid of ocs that i was glad i made but don’t need anymore, and i’ve never been happier cos iris of the storm is actually fun for me.

BUT YEAH THATS IT. thumbs up

[raparopa]

Could I request a Tolya X reader where they are on Nikolai’s ship at night and reader can’t sleep so she stays up reading poetry and he joins her? 🤍🤍

a/n: I am alive☠️With all this studying, I was completely lost and I really want to get back into my rhythm! I don’t know if I will succeed, but I will try very hard, maybe slowly and not right away, but I will try. I've got a lot of requests, I'll try to sort them out for now, but if you have any ideas, don't hesitate

warnings: none (I had to use lines from poems by famous authors, because poetry is not my forte)

pairing: Tolya Yul-Bataar x reader

do you understand or feel it?

I couldn’t find a place for myself: I tossed and turned in bed for an hour, drank tinctures for sleep, counted the crows that were jumping in my head - and none of these methods helped me. Didn't help me sleep.

Usually, sleeping on board our ship was more than good. The soft swaying of the waves, the light of the stars penetrating into the small porthole of my cabin - it was all so beautiful and good. Exactly until this evening. I don’t know what caused my insomnia, but not being able to just relax in a cloud of blankets and pillows, as well as one adorable heartrender by my side, was just killing me.

Therefore, I couldn’t find anything better than to walk along the empty deck and gaze at the stars, taking Tolya’s collection of poetry with me. He found something in the poems and I was wondering why exactly they amazed him so much, because before I had no time at all to escape from business and devote myself to... art?

I quietly walked along the creaking wood, plopped down on one of the boxes and turned my gaze to the clear, dark sky. The silver disk of the moon sparkled, surrounded by a vault of small stars, filling everything around with its cold light. There was a smell of salty breeze and oil, splashes of water could be heard somewhere, and I again thought how disappointing it was that on this good night I couldn’t just sleep.

-So, so... Let's see what we have here that makes Tolya go so crazy?-The book opened easily and I began to leaf through the pages, reading the first lines to find the poem I liked.

…And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes…*

I raised my eyebrows; the lines sounded promising.

...Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies...**

Poetry at night, in the light of the moon, absorbed me more and more, and now I understood why Tolya carries this little book with him everywhere and no longer understood why people did not allow him to read them out loud.

I re-read and re-read, looked for new things, mentally noted the works that were imprinted in my mind and heart, thought about how I would ask Tolya to buy a collection for me or tell me how to choose the most interesting one.

Immersed in my thoughts and tender lines of light poetry, I did not at all notice the cautious steps that appeared on the deck.

-...as fair art thou, my bonnie lass, so deep in luve am I...

-...and I will love thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry.*** - a strange voice rang out over my ear and strange hands wrapped around my waist. - Good night, my heart.

I winced, immediately slamming the book shut and rolling my eyes in pseudo-annoyance, trying to hold back a smile.

-Tolya! You scared me, Saints, don't do that again or I'll hit you.

He laughed, pecking me on the cheek and resting his chin on my shoulder.

-You weren’t in bed, I thought something happened, and you’re sitting here and reading poetry.- Yul-Bataar giggled. -I expected anything, but not this, Y/N. You... pleasantly surprise me.

-I couldn’t sleep, I decided to take a walk and thought it would be nice to take something to read...

-And how? Poetry isn't for everyone, you know. Not every person is able to understand the meaning and feelings embedded in ordinary poetic lines, in ink written on paper. When you read poetry, you must either understand or feel.

I turned my head slightly to see his smiling face, clutching the volume of poetry in my hands.

-Well? And you?-Tolya asked again.

-What?

-Do you feel or understand, when you read these lines, my heart?- He quickly took his book from my hands, lovingly and gently opening it.

I thoughtfully followed his movements, digesting the words he said, trying to grasp their essence.

-Don't know. I haven't read enough to fully...dive into this. I think I need to get to know a lot more to feel poetry.

-Do you want to feel it?- Tolya’s warm embrace immediately disappeared, which made me instantly freeze. He walked around the chest on which I was sitting, opened the collection and began to look for something in it.

-What are you going to do?- I asked, admiring his silhouette, which so softly curved around the silver light of the cold stars. Tolya smiled mischievously, without taking his eyes off the pages.

-Once, you want to feel poetry in your heart, Y/N,-he put his palm to his chest. -Then let me show you this path and read some wonderful things?-He looked up at me and smiled tenderly.

I smiled back, bowing my head.

-I would be glad if you honored me with this, dear,- I responded, involuntarily giggling.

-Then, as expected, every bard is entitled to a reward. For each poem I want to receive... - Tolya thought theatrically, rubbing his chin. - For a kiss. Is the lady happy with this price?

-Cunning fox!- I laughed, squinting from the sharply elevated mood. -But, yes, the lady agrees to the conditions of the cunning bard.-I had to bite my lip so that my smile did not sparkle like a mirror reflecting the light of the sun.

-Then let's start! Bright star, would I be stedfast as thou art... ****

Or maybe this insomnia was not a punishment after all?

**“She Walks In Beauty” by Lord Byron

***“A Red, Red Rose” by Robert Burns

****“Bright Star” by John Keats

[roman0writes]

𝕃𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕖𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕒𝕜𝕖

Warnings: none

Summary: A quiet moment in the Going Merry’s empty for once kitchen

For someone who only has one eye, Zoro easily has the most intimidating glare on the ship. And while you’re glad you’ve never truly been on the receiving end of it, sometimes it certainly feels like it. Like now, how even when quietly reading a book at the kitchen table, you can feel his occasional glance crawl up your spine like some kind of demon spider. It comes and goes, and whenever you lift your eyes even slightly up from the pages, he’s back to polishing his swords like he wasn’t staring a hole into the center of your forehead.

It’s infuriating, and it causes you to constantly lose focus and re-read the same word over and over again in the cheesy romance novel you picked up off the island in some last-ditch effort to distract yourself from him. Of all the people you had to have a crush on, it had to be the one person on this ship that hated you. Just your luck.

You were enjoying it, the summary seemed promising enough: a runaway princess gets rescued by an exiled knight and teams up to stop an all-powerful crime lord from taking over the country in order to regain the respect of the royal family. Cheesy, stereotypical, and just what you needed to read. Until the knight was revealed to be just like Zoro. It was like reading a romance novel with yourself and the crush as protagonists, and what was supposed to be a cure for your boredom just became fuel for your problems.

“What are you reading?” Zoro’s gruff voice came from across the counter, and you look up at him. Your view of him is partially blocked by your empty cup of tea. He’s still looking at his swords, polishing them with a level of attention to detail you couldn’t possibly exhibit without a scope.

“Just some dumb romance novel I picked up off the island,” you mutter. You close the book, summary side up, and stand up to head to the stove. “I’m making some more tea; do you want some?” The offer is formality alone, you know what his answer is.

“No, thanks.”

But he doesn’t stop there, he also gets up from the table and heads to the cabinet you’re at. His body naturally slots behind yours, like pieces of a puzzle, and he reaches above you to the liquor cabinet. You freeze, holding and staring at the box of lavender in your hand while Zoro presses even closer to you, reaching to grab a bottle of sake further back.

You want to shout or say that he’s too close, but by the time you’ve already processed what happened, he’s backed away from you and is pouring some into a cup. He only drinks it from the bottle.

“That lavender tea is only going to do so much to help you relax,” he says, “sake would probably do a better job than that.”

You turn to look at him, tell him you don’t need alcohol thank you very much, but your hand silently accepts the cup he’s already handed you and takes a sip. It’s bitter and burns as it goes down your throat, but you drink it anyway. “Thank you, Zoro.”

You make eye contact with him again, but it’s more relaxed, the lazy grin he has on his face making it a lot less tense and nerve-wracking than eye contact with him normally is. He takes another swig from the bottle before clearing his throat to get your attention. Did you zone out again?

“So, is it clear that I like you, or do I need to buy you roses and call you (Y/N)-swan like that moronic chef?”

[jeannefostergoriot]

I hate it here x Fitz Vacker (12/16 years old)

“Quick, quick, tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy” is the friendship with Keefe, as both their life are abnormal, and they find pretty ways to word it better. To make themselves breathe easier.

“Tell me all your secrets, all you’ll ever be is my eternal consolation prize”: all the Foxfire girls turning around him cause he’s handsome and a Vacker, while not understanding him, and this popularity being like a consolation prize for all the pressure he puts on himself, all the weirdness of living between the worlds.

“You see I was a debutante in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside”: he was seen as king of teenage, king of school, and then, after book 2, he can’t go outside, he can’t get in life, he screams his anger whenever, his friend has been kidnapped, his father’s mind broke, and it may have been temporary but it scarred him.

“If comfort is a construct, I don’t believe in good luck”: being a Vacker. He knows he has privileges, but he doesn’t really feel them in any other way than pressure.

“Now that I know what’s what, I hate it here”: with the story unraveling, all the secrets hidden by the Council, learning all the flaws, now Fitz probably feels like the Lost Cities are less shiny as they seemed when he was a child sent away.

“So I will go to secret gardens in my mind”: before finding Sophie, the Forbidden Cities may have been such a haven, like there, he was a kid, learning about life, on a secret mission but without the prestige of his family name. Now, it’s in his mind only.

“People need a key to get to, the only one is mine”: the fact that he doesn’t trust easily, that he won’t open up.

“I read a book about it in a book when I was a precocious kid”: maybe he read the book. But he probably read a lot as escapism, and human books to learn about them. And he was precocious. Manifested very early.

“I’m there most of the year cause I hate it here”: he goes to the Forbidden Cities. He isn’t “here”, in the Lost Cities.

“My friends used to play a game where we would pick a decade we wished we could live instead of this”: used to cause the second Sophie arrived, he can’t play anymore. And he’d pick any other time just to not be himself.

“ I’d say the 1830’s but without all the racists and getting married for the highest bid”: he is basically living that. It’s not racism but there is discrimination he grew conscious of, and there is the matchmaking…

“Everyone would look down cause it wasn’t fun now”: we tend to get annoy at him cause apparently he ruins things. But he points things out too. He is embarrassing.

“Seems like it was never even fun back then”: I doubt he has ever had fun in his life. He’s been on a mission since he was SIX. And he daydreams it.

“Nostalgia is a mind-trick, if I’d been there, I’d hate it”: till being re-integrated in the Lost Cities cause he can now follow classes normally, but still, he doesn’t fit with his image, he hates it everywhere.

“It was freezing in the palace”: about how Everglen can feel, it’s a palace and sure, they love each other, but they put such high standards, it’s cold.

“I hate it here so I will go to, lunar valleys in my mind”: he goes in himself when he can’t breathe. He paints the light in his brain.

“When they found a better planet”: the idea, again, that he feels trapped in this world.

“Only the gentle survived”: he wish for gentleness

“I dreamed about it in the dark, the night I felt like I might die”: so. Yeah. He probably gets very anxious in the middle of the night for anything, during the mission, and even after. Worries about not finding Sophie. About something going wrong. About the way he is perceived. About everything really.

“I’m lonely but I’m good, I’m bitter but I swear I’m fine”: no one really knows him deep down, except Keefe, and they get separated about Sophie. So it’s lonely. He is bitter, he is angry, but he still puts up a pretty facade, he still pretends, cause he has to in order to hold on.

“I’ll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I’ll get lost on purpose”: 12/13 yo. Lost in between worlds he doesn’t really belong. Losing himself in one to not face the other. Hiding how he is inside.

“This place made me feel worthless”: he thinks he’s never enough cause he doesn’t hear “I’m proud of you” enough, cause he plays a role, he has to be the golden child, or at least act like it.

“Lucid dreams like electricity, the current flies through me and in my fantasies, I rise above it”: the lucid dreams are the only thing he has real control upon, but for the real life, he is drowning, trying to keep things in order with the world collapsing.

“And way up there, I actually love it”: the hope to find his place someday.

[beebopboom]

Hey friends!! I’ve got some updates and changes coming your way

Actually let me just start with this, in case you don’t want to read the rest as it gets personal, and it’s that I made a second page here, @boppinbee that is going to be for more personal/random/important things to me. Nothing is posted there yet but yknow there will be.

but anyway back to what I was saying

I haven’t been posting as much.

I’ve had a lot of change come my way in my personal life this past month, emotionally and just my routine in general, so it’s made being here difficult as much as I love it - if that makes sense. Things are settling back down and I’m getting used to everything again - including getting back into Good Omens, not that I ever lost my love for it just yknow got very suddenly pulled out of my hyperfixation on it by real life.

It’s been very weird to have my brain silent but those cogs have started turning again.

Interacting with you guys(gn)!!

I do so love interacting with you guys(gn) whether through reblogs, the comments, or messages but I’m not the best at it. I’m a painfully awkward person that has trouble with tone and will think I’m bothering you. But that’s my problem and I have gotten a little better. It can also be overwhelming because you guys(gn) are so nice?? and I still get baffled even though it’s been months. Also just figuring out what to say can be difficult cause I got at least 7 different responses loaded up.

but all this to say that i’m working on it and im very sorry for poor replying and not being the one to reach out first

This new page

so I made a second one to be a lot more loose with what I post. I understand that this page has pretty much only posted about Good Omens and I don’t just want to spring other content on you more than I already have. So all the personal post will move over there - the random shit I want to say, the important things to me, other fandom content - just all that fun stuff

Mainly I just have a very big need to have things organized

the future of this page

this page isn’t going anywhere. Still plenty of metas floating around in the drafts(no the meta has not “dried up”) and i’m still going to gush about this show on the regular - I just love them so much.

To be honest things happening in this fandom has been pretty overwhelming on top of everything else so i’ve kinda taken a step back and been hiding on my following tab when I have gotten on which hasn’t been that often. I’ve taken to just re-enjoying the book and show for the moment (and looking for that damn picture I can’t find)

This page is still largely going to be Good Omens some other fandom content might make its way on here though and I am taking a dabble in writing fanfic - don’t know what is going to come of it but yknow thought i’d try.

I also have a backlog of things to reply to - I promise i’m not ignoring - and a whole lot of things to go spam like/reblog so things to look forward to

but yeah - just a look inside my brain and an update on all that is happening :)

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 37: What Might Be

Everyone has that moment that they've looked back on and wonder, "What if I'd done it differently?" Sometimes we can move on, put what-ifs to rest, but sometimes that question will haunt us for the rest of our lives. Don't let this post be that moment. Don't let future you think to themself, an hour from now, "What if I just hadn't spoiled the whole Wheel of Time series for myself by reading this post? What if I'd enjoyed the books by reading them without spoilers?" Don't click "Keep reading" unless you already know all the spoilers and thus will not forever be wondering.

(And yet... perhaps if you do not choose to spoil yourself, years from now you will look back on this moment and wonder what might have happened if you had.)

This chapter has a Portal Stone icon because we're doing one of the best chapters in the whole damn series.

“We stood it upright,” Alar said, “when we found it many years ago, but we did not move it. It . . . seemed to . . . resist being moved.”

Probably the Stones are all entangled in some sort of higher dimensional quantum process, on one part just to be able to function at all and on another to ensure that no one warps off to an alternate world where it turns out that the Stone was tossed into a volcanic caldera a few years back and thus they instantly die. I wonder if there's wiggle room to allow stuff like Stones falling in one world but not another, or if they're all so tied up that reorienting it in one world caused it to be fixed in all of the others too.

Forgive us for our lack of ceremony in leaving you, but the Wheel waits for no woman.

Since I've given Jordan a bit of guff here and there for enforcing his own gender beliefs on the settings, point here for having Verin use "woman" as the default term. Hashtag HER-story, amirite?

Ingtar’s back stiffened. “I hold back at nothing. Take us to Toman Head or take us to Shayol Ghul. If the Horn of Valere lies at the end, I will follow you.”

Really you might argue that this here was the real moment of redemption for Ingtar and that all the rest is just the formality of seeing it through.

I have never used a Stone; that is why your use is more recent than mine.

"Bitch I'm just covering so no one has to know you're the Dragon Reborn. Do the plot thing already!"

Also I kinda feel that Verin is really stretching the oaths she's pretending to have here.

What would I not give to talk with this girl of yours? Or better, to put my hands on her book. It is generally thought that no copy of Mirrors of the Wheel survived the Breaking whole. Serafelle always tells me there are more books that we believe lost than I could credit waiting to be found.

Honestly, even though rumors are so rarely right in this world, I think popular opinion is correct and none survive. I also find it pretty doubtful that there's that many lost books left to be recovered at this point: three and a half thousand years is a long-ass time, too long for most forms of writing to survive.

Apparently, not every Stone connects to every world, and the Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends believed that there were possible worlds no Stones at all touched.

Among others, any timeline where a Portal Stone was never constructed would by definition remain off of the network. I wonder how they decide what Stones connect to what, though. Was it perhaps based on what ifs related to the nearby areas? What other worlds were missing?

With one finger she outlined a rectangle containing eight carvings that were much alike, a circle and an arrow, but in half the arrow was contained inside the circle, while in the others the point pierced the circle through. The arrows pointed left, right, up and down, and surrounding each circle was a different line of what Rand was sure was script, though in no language he knew, all curving lines that suddenly became jagged hooks, then flowed on again.

I expect that these worlds have extremely non-Euclidean geometries at play, based on how they were used to make the Ways. Likely the arrow has something to do with a physical force, probably gravity.

As my father would have said, it’s time to roll the dice.

Headcanon: Mat is Verin's dad reborn.

“I am Rand al’Thor,” he growled. “I am not the Dragon Reborn. I won’t be a false Dragon.” “You are what you are. Will you choose, or will you stand here until your friend dies?”

As I've said before, the one thing Rand's not allowed to do is stand still: every time he does the pressure only mounts until he has to act. Verin at least offers the kindness of spelling it out for him.

The flame consumed fear and passion and was gone almost before he thought to form it. Gone, leaving only emptiness, and shining saidin, sickening, tantalizing, stomach-turning, seductive. He . . . reached for it . . . and it filled him, made him alive. He did not move a muscle, but he felt as if he were quivering with the rush of the One Power into him.

After all this time, I still can't decide if being a channeler would be really awesome or really awful.

“Father!” Rand screamed. Clawing his belt knife from its sheath, he threw himself over the table to help his father, and screamed again as the first sword ran through his chest.

Though of course the Mirror Worlds take from the Many Worlds Theory, we must remember that they're not actually the same. The Many Worlds Theory is a way of resolving one of the fundamental mysteries of quantum mechanics. When not observed, particles don't have discrete locations but probabilites of being here, there, or even over there. These odds are called a "waveform". When observed, the waveform collapses and the particle is only in one of those places. The thing scientists don't get yet is the mechanic of that collapse nor the reason. Many Worlds Theory says "The collapse is an illusion. All of those possibilities exist somewhere but since we can only exist in one place we can only ever observe one possibility. All worlds continue on, none with more value or reality than any other except in that those who exist in only one must favor where they are."

This is not what the Mirror Worlds are. The Pattern of Ages is a specific framework which dictates one reality (T'A'R) reigns supreme above all the others, and that among these the closest reflection (the Prime Reality) is inherently more valid than the increasingly distorted copies.

In Many Worlds theory, one can discuss the relative probabilties of different timelines. One location for a particle might have had a 2/3rds chance of being the real one while the other two were each only a sixth. Amid the Mirror Worlds, there's no such thing. T'A'R and the Prime reality each have a 100% chance of being true and all other worlds have a 0% chance of happening.

That said, the Wheel does seem to think some Mirror Worlds are more plausible than others, and I think Rand's journey is - at least at first - moving in order of descending plausibility. Him dying immediately when the story began is a very "likely" outcome - to some degree more likely than other potential deaths later in the timeline just because in each of those scenarios Rand had a little more experience to keep him going.

There was a year when neither merchants nor peddlers came, and when they returned the next they brought word that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had come back, or their descendants, at least.

It's bizarrely heartening to think that even the Seanchan invasion will completely miss that the Two Rivers exists.

Also note that this world - where Rand is never found by Fain or Moiraine and never leaves as a result - seems next most likely amid the categories.

Egwene grew frightened when the moods were on him, for strange things sometimes happened when he was at his bleakest—lightning storms she had not heard listening to the wind, wildfires in the forest—but she loved him and cared for him and kept him sane, though some muttered that Rand al’Thor was crazy and dangerous.

I wonder what happened to this Egwene that she accepts the Two Rivers life without complaint while Rand is forever ranting about how life should be. I also do think that the haters should remember that this is the "no inciting incident" default Egwene: a caring person who stays with Rand until the end. The pair grow apart because of outside forces, not because Egwene is fundamentally flawed as a person.

Women came, too, shouldering what weapons they could find, marching alongside the men. Some laughed, saying that they had the strange feeling they had done this before.

This is both nice foreshadowing for how the Two Rivers folk will respond to the real Shadowspawn invasion and another hint of the old blood amid the people. It would not be surprising at all if many of them were truly the last of Manetheren reborn.

Tam tried to console Rand when Egwene took sick and died just a week before their wedding.

The nextmost implausible sort of world: no inciting incident and Rand survives his channeling sickness but Egwene does not. Being a slightly mainer character than she is, it tracks that this is more plausible than a world where he dies young while she stays on track to be Wisdom.

Elayne did not look at him, of course; she married a Tairen prince, though she did not seem happy in it.

I'd be upset too in this position. What a strange world this is, that a gal who should be the first Aes Sedai queen in centuries should end up married to anyone from Tear. What the fuck is going on at the White Tower to lead to this? I would guess that the reason Moiraine didn't find Rand is that Siuan isn't Amyrlin and that whoever is in charge instead has run the place into the ground.

Also, assuming "prince" means "son of a High Lord or Lady", if not "High Lord" directly, I wonder which horrible family Elayne is stuck with.

He knew he was mad, and did not care. A wasting sickness came on him, and he did not care about that, either, and neither did anyone else, for word had come that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had returned to reclaim the land.

1. It seems that this Rand is doomed to never be able to complete his character development without the actual plot happening.

2. What's delayed the Seanchan by years if not a decade? How far back does this timeline's divergence have to be to account for all of this?

Many of the people of Caemlyn had fled already, and many counseled the army to retreat further, but Elayne was Queen, now, and vowed she would not leave Caemlyn. She would not look at his ruined face, scarred by his sickness, but he could not leave her, and so what was left of the Queen’s Guards prepared to defend the Queen while her people ran.

I expect that this was foreshadowing Caemlyn's importance in the Last Battle, an importance that Sanderson didn't fully follow up on. Even in this life, Rand finds himself head of an army by Elayne's side leading a desperate last stand.

I have won again, Lews Therin. Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker.

There's some great details in the paragraph that precedes this bit, much too much to analyze. It says a great deal about the central nature of Rand to the Pattern that he can have so many bizarre outcomes: I expect no one else in the party had anywhere near so much variety in their lives.

We also get confirmation that Rand is Aiel, which is nice, though it's sad that the closest thing to a reference Aviendha gets in this procession is "women he had never seen before".

Of course, Rand's lovers aren't the important part here. Elayne and Min get mentioned but it is Egwene who receives a similar multi-faceted fate. So often she is a central figure in his life; she can't help but be his opposite even when their lives have gone horribly off-script.

And of course, our iconic line. The Dark One wins again and again, but like I already said: none of these worlds have even a 0.00000000000000000000000000000001 percent chance of happening. None of these victories matter in the slightest.

“Does it surprise you that your life might go differently if you made different choices, or different things happened to you? Though I never thought I—Well. The important thing is, we are here. Though not as we hoped.”

I desperately wish I had the slightest idea what Verin had seen in her procession. Were there worlds where she avoided the Black Ajah altogether, or worlds where she happily threw in with them? Maybe a world where she poisoned Cadsuane, or one where she was in Moiraine's place and threw Lanfear through the twisted red door?

You should not have tried to bring us directly here. I don’t know what went wrong—I don’t suppose I ever will—but from the trees, I would say it is well into late autumn.

Presumably it's the nature of those arrow worlds. I've joked about the Ways being akin to the inside of a black hole and suggested that they had strange geometry and I expect this is proof. They did come instantly but it also took four months by another spacetime's reckoning.

“Rand, I’d never tell anyone about—about you. I wouldn’t betray you. You have to believe that!”

It's true! Mat doesn't do that in this reality and none of the other ones count. But I do think he was tempted at points. Not enough to go through with it (and he had no real opportunity to do so), but still. Now though, that door is permanently closed.

The curly-haired youth dropped his hands from his face with a sigh. Red marks scored his forehead and cheeks where his nails had dug in. His yellow eyes hid his thoughts.

Wolf boy here probably had one hell of a time in the pack. Or perhaps he just got out of that weird timeline where he mistakes Laila for a Trolloc.

Rand backed away when she reached for him. “Don’t be foolish,” she told him. “I don’t want your help,” he said quietly. “Or any Aes Sedai help.” Her lips twitched. “As you wish.”

1. I expect that nearly everyone has now forgotten a good deal of the experience thanks to Verin's help, which ironically helps Rand even though he doesn't want it.

2. Verin must really chafe at the sheer ingratitude of this, considering just how much she's doing for the dumb boy.

3. That's the end of our chapter folks! Next time: Remember Egwene? She still exists!

[dottielovegood]

I love the holiday prompts! Maybe 7 or 11 for Feyre and Cassian causing chaos together like they do when they’re decorating together ACOFAS? (Perhaps they even involve Elain and Azriel in their nonsense this year!)

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was my first time writing something that wasn't purely elriel, which really forced me out of my comfort zone. I'm not sure I got the characterization of Cassian and Feyre completely right, but I hope you like it anyway! :) I had a lot of fun with this one (and I got to re-read all the Solstice scenes in the books for research, which was great!)

I wanted to post this a few days ago but then life (and Christmas) got in the way. I hope you're all still feeling at least a bit festive!

7: "What is it?" (and odd Christmas gift) 11: "I can't believe we did that"

Summary: While drunkenly decorating the house for Solstice, Cassian and Feyre decide to do some last minute Solstice shopping for Elain and Azriel.

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Solstice Mischief

A few days before Solstice

“A little more to the right.”

Cassian held up the giant wreath over the fireplace and moved it slightly to his right. “Like this?” 

Feyre sipped her wine and gave him a thumbs up, “That’s perfect.”

“So, it’s in the middle now?”

“Not even close,” she laughed and took another sip. This was her third glass of wine and she was already feeling slightly drunk. She hadn’t had much alcohol since having Nyx and apparently, her new body was a bit more sensitive to the effects of wine now. 

She watched from her seat on the sofa as Cassian put the wreath up over the mantle. It looked awful. They had made the wreath together earlier and it was definitely the ugliest wreath she had ever seen, which is exactly what made it so perfect. 

This had become one of the traditions Feyre most looked forward to on Solstice - getting drunk and decorating the house with Cassian. They hadn’t meant for it to look so awful that first year, but the two bottles of wine had certainly not turned either of them into interior designers. When Azriel had seen what they had done, he had promptly started to fix their mistakes while muttering under his breath that Feyre was an artist and should, at least, be able to decorate the mantle properly. 

The next year, Feyre had asked Cassian to come over just to get his mind off the fact that Nesta was going to dance with Eris in the Court of Nightmares the following evening. Feyre, being pregnant, had obviously not gotten drunk that year but Cassian had drunk enough for both of them. Then Cassian had asked her if she thought that Azriel would come to their rescue again if they tried to decorate the house just like the previous year, and since Feyre was adamant on making Cassian feel better, she just let him lead the way. That year, the ugliness had been intentional. 

And sure enough, as soon as Azriel stepped through the door that evening he had just taken one look at the mess they had made and started to sweep the floor. 

“You really are the worst decorators in Prythian,” he told them as he straightened the garlands. 

This year, they obviously needed to protect their reputation as The Worst Decorators in Prythian, which is why they asked Rhys to take Nyx for the evening. Elain had already made plans to go out for some last minute Solstice shopping with the twins, so they had the house all to themselves. 

“So, do you think we can do an even shittier job than last year?” Cassian asked as soon as he arrived at the house, carrying an armful of pine boughs. Feyre had just smiled at him and pointed to the tree in the corner of the room. “I got the saddest looking tree at the market earlier.”

Cassian raised his eyebrows and nodded in silent appreciation. “Wow, we might actually make him cry this year.” 

“There is no way he can make this tree look good.” 

“No chance in hell,” Cassian chuckled. “Get the wine, Feyre. We have some work to do.”

A few hours later and they were almost done. Feyre looked around the room and had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. Not only was the floor covered in pine needles, but every single thing was crooked or slightly out of place. 

Cassian took a step back to admire his handiwork. “Well, that wreath really is ugly, Feyre. Maybe we should have asked Elain for some help?”

“And where would be the fun in that?” she asked from where she was seated on the couch, sorting through the last box of decorations. “We want to make Azriel’s pedantic side itch, remember? If Elain helped, he would probably love it all. They are both perfectionists.” 

Cassian poured himself another glass of wine and sat down next to Feyre. “And he has a soft spot for your sister, so yeah, that would totally ruin our plan.” 

Feyre smiled at him, “He does, doesn’t he?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian hesitated for just a moment. “Or, he did, at least.”

“What do you mean?” 

Cassian let out a breath. “Honestly, I feel like I never see him anymore. A few months ago, I remember thinking that he was starting to get over Mor, and it got me thinking of a possible reason behind that, and I came to the conclusion that Elain might be the reason. I thought they were just friends, but the way he always stood up for her, always protected her,” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I might be completely wrong.”

Feyre sat up straighter and turned to face him, “You know, I once told Rhys that Elain would probably cling to Azriel if she ever came to Prythian, and that’s what she did. She let him take her out in the garden, she spent a good part of that first Solstice with him talking about her plans for the garden…” Feyre trailed off, trying to think of the last time she had seen her sister and Azriel together. She couldn’t remember. 

“And she gave him that headache powder,” Cassian added. 

Feyre smiled at the memory. At the way her friend had thrown his head back and laughed when he opened the gift from her sister. She had never heard such joy from that male before, or since.

“What did they get each other last year?”

“I… honestly, I don’t remember.” Cassian scratched his jaw, seeming lost in thoughts. “Lucien got her a pair of earrings, right?”

Feyre nodded. “Yes, but I can’t remember what Az gave her. Or if she got him anything.”

Cassian hummed and raised his glass to his lips. “Neither can I.”

Feyre tried, and failed, to remember what everyone got that Solstice. Maybe they had gotten each other gifts and she had just forgotten, but it was definitely more likely that they hadn’t. Feyre would have remembered. Wouldn’t she?

So many things had changed in a year. Feyre was happy that all the people she loved were still alive, yet she still felt an ache in her heart when she thought about Azriel. Something had changed in him since last year and she had no idea what, or why. 

“How is he doing?” she asked carefully, hoping that Cassian might know something about his friend, though she doubted it. 

Cassian just shrugged. “I don’t know. As I said, I barely see him. He has been on missions for weeks on end all year. He barely has time to touch down at home before he’s off again.”

“Where is he now?” Feyre tried to remember what Rhys had told her about Azriel’s whereabouts, but it was impossible for her to remember in her current wine haze. 

“The continent. He was going to meet up with Mor and then they’ll go home together for Solstice.” 

“And then?” 

Cassian let out a humorless laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Feyre leaned back and emptied her glass of wine. She let out a heavy breath, “I miss him.” 

“Me too,” he said and patted her knee. “Me too.”

Silence fell between them and Feyre couldn’t help but wonder if Elain missed Azriel too. Elain had always been hard to read since she always kept her thoughts and feelings for herself in order to not bother anyone. For a while there, she started to open up and stand up for herself and a part of Feyre had always thought that Elain’s friendship with Azriel was part of that. But then something changed…

Cassian squeezed her knee, effectively bringing her back to reality. He reached for the bottle and refilled her glass. “Okay, we’re starting to sound very sad-drunk when we’re supposed to be festive-drunk,” he put the bottle down and raised his glass. “To being the worst decorators in Velaris three years in a row.” 

Feyre laughed and clinked her glass to his, “I’ll drink to that.”

They spent the next 30 minutes decorating the tree together and Feyre couldn’t stop laughing at how awful it looked. “It’s like putting makeup on a pig.” This was the first time they had ever had a real tree indoors for Solstice since it was an Illyrian tradition and not something most people in Velaris did. It might also very well be the last, unless they decided to piss Azriel off for the fourth time in a row. 

Cassian held up the last item in the box. “Do you want to do the honors?” 

Feyre took the golden star from him and looked at the tree. There was no chance in hell that she was reaching the top. Even Cassian might be too short for this monstrosity. “I think you might have to carry me.”

Without so much as a word, Cassian wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up. She shrieked and grabbed the nearest wall just to keep herself from falling. “High enough for you, high lady?” Cassian chuckled and tightened his grip around her waist. 

“Actually, if you could go a bit higher…”

“If I did, that would put your ass right in my face, and there is only one Archeron ass I want in my face and I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s not yours.” Feyre reached behind herself and smacked Cassian with the tree topper, which just earned her a roaring laugh from her friend. 

Somehow, she was able to put the tree topper on the tree without injuring anyone and when Cassian let her down they stepped back to behold the wonder of the ugliest tree in Velaris. 

“He’s going to hate it.” 

Cassian grinned, “I think everyone will hate this. We have absolutely outdone ourselves.” He held up his hand and Feyre smacked it with hers. “But yes, he will have a fit,” Cassian continued. “Hopefully he’ll get some nice gifts to make up for it.” 

“Maybe some new towels from Mor?” Feyre suggested.

“I could always give him one of the silk shirts she’s given me over the years.”

Feyre let out a snort. “How is she so bad at gift giving?”

“I have no idea,” Cassian shrugged. “She’s always been shit at it.”

Feyre lifted her glass to her lips and was very disappointed to find it empty. 

“Speaking of gifts,” Cassian continued, “Do you think Azriel has bought Elain something this year? I mean, even if they didn’t give each other anything last year, Elain still gave him that powder. Which means that he owes her”

Clearly, Feyre wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop thinking about the lack of gifts between her sister and the shadowsinger last year. 

“I don’t think you can really owe anyone when it comes to gifts. At least I don’t think Elain would see it that way.”

Cassian raised his eyebrows. “Have you met Azriel?” he asked. “Do you really think that he would be fine with getting anything without giving something back?” 

Feyre shook her head because no, no he wouldn’t. “That’s why it’s so weird that they didn’t get each other anything last year. I really did expect him to buy her something.” Feyre chewed her bottom lip, hesitating a bit before continuing. “But then again, Lucien was there. It might have been awkward if Azriel gave his mate a gift.”

“You mean more awkward than Elain’s reaction to Lucien’s gift?” Cassian said, a grin spreading across his lips. 

Feyre covered her face with her hands from the secondhand embarrassment that particular memory invoked in her. “Gods, don’t remind me.” Feyre was happy that Lucien wasn’t joining them for Solstice this year. Not because she didn’t want him there, but because his presence clearly made Elain uncomfortable. 

“Maybe we should just buy her a gift from Azriel and see what happens?” Cassian laughed, clearly joking. 

Until he wasn’t. 

At the exact same moment, they both turned to each other, a silent understanding in their eyes. 

Maybe it was the wine talking, but Feyre said. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

He shoved her playfully. “What do you mean? I have never had a bad idea in my entire life.”

“Uh-huh, if you say so.”

Cassian smiled at her, his eyes alight with mischief. “No, but seriously. We could, couldn’t we?” 

“We could…” Feyre murmured. “But wouldn’t that potentially leave Azriel without a gift? Then we would have to do this all over again.” 

“Let’s get him one too. And if they have gotten each other gifts, we’ll just hide the ones we got them.” 

Feyre stared at him, unable to hide her slightly drunken smile. “Are you serious? Do you really want to do this?” 

The wicked smirk on Cassian’s face was the only answer she needed. “Get your cloak, Feyre. We’re going shopping.” 

Velaris was bustling with life. Since she first set foot in Velaris, she had loved this city that she now called home, but there was just something about Velaris during Solstice that made her fall in love with the city all over again. There were colorful lights and garlands in every shop window, children playing in the snow and everyone just seemed to have less worries in life during this time of year. 

People greeted them as they walked past and a few children tried to get Cassian to join them in a snowball fight. 

“Not tonight,” he said and ruffled one small boy’s hair. “I am on a very important mission.”

“A secret mission?” the child asked, his eyes big and full of wonder. 

“Exactly, so you can’t tell anyone that you saw us.”

The children promised to keep the secret, which probably meant that they would tell their families all about it as soon as they came home. Feyre just smiled at them as they ran back to their snow forts. She couldn’t wait to get back home to her own family. 

As if on cue, she heard Rhysand’s voice in her mind. 

Where are you, Feyre darling? 

His voice made heat spread through her entire body. 

Just doing some last minute Christmas shopping with Cassian. 

I hope that you’re not buying any more decorations because this house looks awful as is. 

He sent her an image down the bond of their living room that was still covered in pine needles and crooked decorations. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. 

Don’t worry. We’re just getting a few gifts. 

She didn’t tell him about their excellent plan. This was a secret mission, after all. 

And when are you getting home?

Soon. Why? Do you miss me already? 

I miss you all the time. 

His voice was smooth like velvet and Feyre almost asked Cassian to do the shopping by himself so she could return home to her mate. She missed him too, and she missed her son. She hated spending time away from them. 

Before she could answer him, he continued,

I was hoping to find you here. Nyx is sleeping, and Elain isn’t home yet. 

Oh? And what were you planning? Feyre teased.

He sent her multiple images down the bond of exactly what he wanted to do to her if she had been home. Blushing and distracted, she almost crashed into Cassian’s back. 

“Could you stop having mind sex in public?” Cassian muttered and motioned for her to turn left. 

Prick

The only answer she received was Rhysand’s warm laughter. She wanted to bathe in that sound. 

They went into a few shops, considering getting a tea set or kitchen utensils for Elain and daggers for Azriel, but everything just felt wrong and too impersonal. They needed to find something that Elain and Azriel would actually buy each other, which was proving to be more difficult than they had imagined. 

“How about this one?” Cassian held up a book about poisonous plants. “Might be useful?” 

Feyre grimaced, “I might have already gotten her that.” 

“Of course you have,” he muttered and put the book back. “God, this is impossible.”

“If we don’t find anything in ten minutes, we should probably give up.” Feyre turned around and went back to rummaging through the stacks of cook books. 

Cassian nodded, but she could tell that he really wasn’t keen on the idea of giving up. When he set his mind to something, it would take a lot for him to back down. 

“How about this one?” Cassian handed her a small, black book decorated with roses and swirls of blues threaded through the vines that decorated the edges. She traced her fingers over the intricate pattern. “It’s pretty.” She turned it over to read the blurb, but there was none. 

“It’s a notebook,” Cassian explained and opened up the book. “Maybe she could write recipes or garden plans in it?”

Feyre hummed and looked around the store again. This was certainly the best gift they had found so far, and she was starting to doubt that they would find something else. “That’s actually a really good idea. I think she’ll like it.”

“See, all of my ideas are great,” Cassian beamed. “So, should we get it?”

“Yeah, we might as well. It’s definitely better than the spatula you showed me earlier.”

They continued down the streets of Velaris until they reached the Rainbow. Feyre could see that the lights were still on in her studio, which meant that Ressina might still be there. 

Feyre took Cassian by the arm and led him to one of her favorite places in the city. She wanted to show him the art that the children had made a few weeks prior. Their work was now being sold and the money would be donated to families in need. It had been the children’s idea and Feyre’s heart had melted when she saw how hard they all worked in order to create their little paintings and clay figurines for such a good cause. 

Ressina greeted them with a warm smile and hugs as soon as they stepped in the door. 

“I didn’t expect to see you this evening,” she said. “Weren’t you decorating your home tonight?” 

“We finished early.” 

“I bet it turned out beautiful.” 

Feyre didn’t dare look at Cassian because she knew that she would burst out laughing if she did. 

“It’s definitely festive.” She could hear the smile in Cassian’s voice and knew that he was trying to hold back his own laughter. 

“I just wanted to show him the children’s work.”

Ressina gestured to the shop, “Well, most things have been sold already,” she smiled, pride written all over her face. “But there are a few things left. You can go look while I finish cleaning the work stations.”

They walked over to the table by the window where the children had displayed their work. There were only a few pieces left and Feyre considered buying all of them, even though she wouldn’t be able to tell what most of them were supposed to be. She just didn’t want a single child to come in here and see that nobody had bought their art. 

“What is that?” Cassian pointed to a painting made by one of the younger children. He turned his head, “It could be a horse, but it could also be a very colorful spider.”

“Well, whatever it is, it has twelve legs, which is a bit excessive,” she laughed. “Luckily, art doesn’t have to make sense.”

Feyre picked up one of the figurines. “Look, it’s you!” 

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. “How is that me? It’s a black blob.”

“Ah, yes. But it’s a black blob with wings.” She pointed to the oddly shaped wings that stuck out from the black figure. She knew that it was, in fact, supposed to be an Illyrian warrior. The girl that made it told her so, and was very proud when she finished it. 

Cassian snorted. “What is that pink thing he’s holding?” 

“Honestly, I just think she accidentally dipped her brush in the wrong paint and forgot to fix it.” She held it up next to his face. “The resemblance is uncanny.” 

Grinning, he took the figurine from her. “I think it looks more like Azriel. His wings are smaller and a bit wonky.”

Feyre couldn’t help but to think back to the conversation she had with Mor years ago about Illyrians and their wingspans. Laughing, she patted Cassian’s arm. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep better at night.”

“I’m serious,” he held it up to the light. “Add a few blue siphons and nobody could tell the difference.”

“A few minutes ago you called it a blob.” 

“Yes, but it’s an Azriel shaped blob. We should get it for him.”

Feyre looked at the black figurine in Cassian’s hand. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was quite certain that nobody else would buy it. It did look like a blob with wings.

Even if Azriel ended up hating it, at least buying it would be for a good cause. “Maybe we should. I can add some siphons.”

Cassian’s face lit up. “Perfect.”

“But this can’t be the gift from Elain,” she added quickly. 

“Why not?”

Feyre stared at him. “Does it look like something Elain would buy him? Elain, the person who gives people the most thoughtful gifts?”

He shrugged, “This is a very thoughtful gift. It was made with love and the money goes to a great cause.”

“Are you just tired of shopping?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She was also tired and wanted nothing more than to go home and let Rhys do all the things he had shown her earlier. 

“Very,” Cassian sighed. “Seriously, it’s not like we’ll find anything better. We have visited every single shop in Velaris and this is the best thing we could find,” he gestured to the black thing. “He is impossible to shop for.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Azriel had always been the one Feyre struggled to find presents for. He was very private, and very particular about the things he bought himself. She didn’t even dare to buy him socks since he probably had a special kind he preferred. She knew that this was their last hope, so with a sigh, she relented. 

“Fine, let’s get it. At least one child will be happy to find that someone bought their art.”

Cassian threw his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. If there’s anything left at Solstice, I’ll buy it all.”

“Really? Even the twelve legged horse-spider?”

“Especially the horse-spider. It’s growing on me.”

–-------

Solstice evening

Cassian was seated on one of the green velvet sofas, Nestas legs draped over his lap, her head leaning against his shoulder. He had always loved spending Solstice with his family, but spending it with his mate was even better than he could have ever imagined. Last year, Nesta hadn’t been ready to accept the truth yet and the days prior to Solstice had been full of jealousy and anxiety for him. But then, on that fateful night, things had finally changed between them. It had been a Solstice miracle, if he ever saw one. 

And now here they were, with friends and family, just like it should be. Azriel and Mor had arrived around midday, which meant that Azriel didn’t have time to fix their decorations before the rest of the guests arrived. If it hadn’t been for the annoyance so clearly painted on Azriel’s face, he might have actually regretted how ugly they made the house this year since they now had to look at it all evening. 

But their decorations luckily seemed forgotten when Elain and the twins presented them with this year's feast. During this past year, Elain had definitely taken her cooking skills to a new level. Cassian couldn’t even remember the last time he had ever been this full.

Because of his and Feyre’s little excursion earlier that week, Cassian couldn’t help but to pay extra close attention to Elain and Azriel. Every time Elain was near, Azriel’s shadows seemed to lessen around him, yet they never once talked to each other. Elain didn’t even look at Azriel when he complimented the food. He had no idea what he was witnessing, but he was starting to realize that something might have actually happened between the two. He just wished he knew what. 

During dinner, he caught Feyre’s eye and he could see his own confusion mirrored there. If he had been a better man, he probably would have removed the two gifts he had placed in the gift pile in the living room earlier that day. But he was not a better man, and he was frankly annoyed at Azriel for not telling him anything about his life. If something had happened with Elain, Azriel should have told him. Sure, Az was private and didn’t like to talk about his life, but this was family. Whatever bothered him, he should know that Cassian was there for him. So Cassian decided to go forward with his and Feyre’s plan. His decision was even more solidified when he snuck off to the living room to read the notes on the presents there. 

No gift from Azriel to Elain.

No gift from Elain to Azriel. 

After dinner, they had all gathered in the living room. Cassian, Nesta and Mor in one couch and Elain, Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx in the one opposite. Varian and Amren occupied the two armchairs. 

Azriel had decided to stand by the fire, a good distance away from the rest of them. 

Since Mor had taken the place closest to the gifts, she was the one who picked them up one by one and handed them out. So far, Cassan had received yet another awful shirt from Mor and a book from Rhysand. Elain had given Nesta the latest Sellyn Drake book and Cassian could see how much she itched to get home so she could start reading it. 

“This one's for Elain,” Mor called out and handed the gift to Elain. “From Azriel,” she added and Cassian felt his own body go tense. Azriel, though, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, his face neutral. Though his eyes followed Elain’s every move, just as they had done most of the evening. There was something charged between them that Cassian couldn’t decipher, but for just a moment, he regretted this drunken idea. Would this make things even more awkward between them? 

Elain said nothing when she took the gift from Mor. She didn’t even look at Azriel, or any of them. Her eyes were glued to the gift, her eyebrows furrowed. Cassian dared a glance at Feyre and she was looking right at him. 

For just a moment, she invited him into her mind. Maybe this was a bad idea? 

Well, there’s no turning back now. 

And there wasn’t, because Elain had started to unwrap the gift. Cassian’s eyes drifted to Rhys, who was staring at Azriel with an expression he hadn’t seen on his High Lord’s face before. Whatever he was trying to convey with his eyes, it wasn’t anything positive. What the hell? 

Elain let the paper fall to the floor and they all watched her turn the small book over in her hands. “A notebook,” she murmured, her eyes still not meeting Azriel’s, but Azriel was watching her, his hazel eyes soft and careful, shadows retreating. In 500 years, Cassian had only seen him look at one other person like that and for the first time since they decorated the house, Cassian wondered if they might actually have made a mistake in buying these gifts. This was supposed to be funny; a joke, but right now, that was the last word he would use to describe this situation. 

He was watching Elain intently, silently praying that she wouldn’t be upset. Her fingers traced one of the roses on the cover and Cassian wished that he could read her mind. 

When Azriel spoke, Cassian prepared for the worst.  

“For your poetry,” he said and for the first time all evening, Elain turned to face him. 

Cassian had no idea what Azriel was talking about. That male could really pull a lie out of his ass. Elain liked flowers and baking – since when did she enjoy poetry? 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. It felt as if the entire room was holding their breath together. Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, Elain lifted her gaze and looked at Azriel. “Thank you.” She lowered her gaze just as quickly, but Cassian didn’t miss the small smile on her lips. 

“You’re welcome, Elain.”

She didn’t put the book in the pile with her other gifts, Cassian noticed. No, she kept it in her lap, as if hesitant to be away from it. Then, for just a second, her eyes met Cassian’s, and the knowing look he found there had him wondering if she had seen this. If she, somehow, knew exactly who had bought her that gift. 

Shit. How could he have forgotten that she was a freaking seer? 

He dared another look at Feyre, and from the way she was looking at him, he could tell that she was thinking the same thing. 

“And this one is for Amren,” Mor said cheerfully and held up the gift Cassian had wrapped this morning, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. But Cassian knew her better than that. She wanted to bring the attention back to herself. Wanted people to stop staring at Az and Elain. He didn’t blame her. 

Amren took the gift, unwrapping it unceremoniously and Cassian had to bite back a laugh at the expression on her face when she held up the horse-spider painting in front of her. 

“What is it?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she beheld the colorful painting. 

“A horse-spider. I think.”

She glared at him. “There is no such thing as a horse-spider, Cassian.”

“I am aware.” He had to force himself not to look at Feyre because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back his laughter if he did.  “I bought it at Feyre’s gallery.”

Amren held up the painting in front of her again, a disgusted look on her face. “I hate it.”

“Hey, a child made that,” Feyre interjected. 

“I can tell. There is absolutely no real craftsmanship behind this painting.”

Mor continued handing out gifts until there was only one left and Cassian held his breath when she read the note Feyre had attached to it. “For Azriel, from Elain,” Mor read, her voice softer now, as if she knew that this meant something, even though she didn’t know what. 

Elain was staring at Mor, her mouth slightly agape as Azriel took the gift from Mor’s hands. But she stayed quiet. Said nothing about the fact that she hadn’t bought him anything. 

She was still holding the notebook in her lap and Cassian’s heart softened just a bit at that. Maybe their plan hadn’t been so awful after all? 

The tearing of paper was the only sound in the room apart from the soft snores coming from the small child in Rhysand’s arms. Azriel, who had barely shown a single emotion during this entire ordeal, looked surprised at the small figurine he was now holding in his hand. He turned it over a few times, as if that would make him understand what he was holding. 

Finally, he looked at Elain and asked, “What is it?” His voice was gentle, as if to not startle her. Elain opened her mouth but promptly closed it again, clearly having no clue what Azriel was holding. 

Luckily, Feyre was there to save her sister. Thank the gods. “It’s an illyrian warrior,” she explained matter of factly. “She got it at the studio. One of the children made it. She was very proud of her creation.”

“Was she now?” Azriel asked, his mouth turning into a smirk. “And it just happened to have blue siphons?” 

Again, Feyre smiled sweetly and spoke for Elain. “No, I added those.”

Azriel hummed and turned the black thing over in his hands once more. Cassian could see the shadowsinger’s mind working, trying to make sense of this entire situation. If Azriel ever found out what they had done, he was certain that there would be hell to pay. 

“And what about this pink thing in his hands?” Azriel pointed to the same spot Cassian has asked about days prior. “Or, well, I assume they’re his hands.”

Cassian expected Feyre to explain this too, but someone else spoke before she even had the chance to open her mouth. 

He had been so focused on Azriel, he hadn’t noticed that Elain had now fully turned towards Azriel, her gaze meeting his. “A rose.” It was barely more than a whisper. “He’s holding a rose.”

And with that, Azriel’s features softened, his shoulder’s relaxing just slightly. 

“Thank you. It’s a lovely gift.”

A blush spread across Elain’s cheeks and Cassian had no idea what just happened, he was just glad that they seemed to have gotten away with their drunken plan without anyone getting hurt.

“You’re welcome,” Elain said with a gentle smile directed at the shadowsinger. 

–-

A while later, when Amren and Varian had left and Rhys had disappeared to the nursery to put Nyx in his cot, Cassian found Feyre in the kitchen. Elain was still in the living room talking to the Mor and Nesta. And Azriel. 

As soon as Feyre saw him she whispered, “I can’t believe we did that,” her eyes wide and full of humor. “I really thought that Az would call us out on our bullshit.”

“I know…” Cassian murmured, careful to keep his voice low. “When Elain opened that notebook, she looked so sad. I almost told her that it was a stupid joke right then and there.”

Feyre nodded. “Yeah, me too.” She looked past him into the living room. “At least we didn’t make things worse.”

Cassian shrugged and smiled at her. “If I do say so myself, we might have actually made things better between them. I mean look at them,” he gestured to the living room. “They are smiling. In each other’s presence.” 

“That, they are.”

“Maybe I should quit my job and become a matchmaker.” 

Feyre laughed and patted his arm. “Well, you’re definitely better at matchmaking than decorating.” 

“Right back at you.”

[angrycloudloud]

Spoiler alert of Good Omens season 2

I'll try to explain the feeling of "this is a fanfic I've read before" by that I'll take in consideration not only "the coffee theory" but also the re-cast of actresses in other roles and the references to Doctor Who.

Enjoy my madness, and re watch season 2 so Amazon gives us season 3, please.

First:

We have the interesting choice of Derek Jacobi as Metatron and my personal hate/dislike/discomfort towards Metatron that I carry with me from the Supernatural Fandom and the discorporate scene from season 1.

I said interesting choice of Derek Jacobi as Metatron, because he was the proffesor Yana in Doctor Who during the season with Martha Jones as a companion, but you probably remember better the plot of proffesor Yana being The Master WITH NO MEMORIES OF BEING THE MASTER. (I'm chill, I'll take a deep breath)

The parallels with the amnesia plot and someone being better person with no memories between Jim/Gabriel and Yana/TheMaster are quite remarkable, but I want to point out that Metatron is one of the closest angels to God and we haven't heard from God this season unless we talk about the flashback from the Job story, so it's probable that Metatron is the real one in charge of Heaven since Armageddon't happened in season 1.

One of Metatron powers as we were told at the end of the season 2 is that he can rewrite the book of life. Archangel Michael wanted to use that power to erase the existence of those who hide Gabriel from heaven, but Metatron refused that option and send them to heaven, proving that he has more authority than the archangel Michael or Uriel.

I wanted to point out that to explain my next point, witch is one I have no real proof of... Anyway, I think Metatron is messing with reality and that's why we all get that feeling of "this is a fanfic I've read before". Why do I say that? When Jim/Gabriel was "putting in order" the books in the book shop he read the first sentence of the original material the show is based on, the book Good Omens write by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, that proves that the book exist in that reality and if a being other than God herself can be conscious about the fact of being in a novel or can manipulate the reality to turn the story of season one into a novel and write a fanfic after the end of that story... That character is Metatron.

I'm not sure of why he would have done that, but that will lead us to may next point.

The actresses who play completely different characters this season.

First we have our dearest Madame Tracy, Miranda Richardson, playing the demon Shax who is Crowley's substitute in his hell of a job. (sorry about that pun)

After that we have Nina and Maggie.

This is where it gets interesting. Because the actresses are playing characters with their real names and no last names (sorry if I'm wrong, I'll correct this if I'm wrong), but in season 1 Maggie played Sister Theresa Garrulous and Nina played Sister Mary Loquacious, both of them involved in the mistake that lead to Armageddon't being the both of them the ones (along with Crowley) that messed up the switch of the babies.

So... I think Metatron is mad about the events of the season one (the whole Great Plan thing), he could have tried to talk with God but she was enjoying the turn of events that Crowley and Aziraphale caused and ignore the rest of the children (a.k.a the angels) which lead the archangels to try again (I think Metatron was the master mind behind "Michael's plan" because archangel Michael has proven to be a bit incompetent this season only cares for the title of boss but not really good at it) and they vote about it, but the Bureaucracy Husbands were already a thing and make Armageddon't 2 even before the actual Armageddon could start to be put on action.

That is why I think the "present" of the story started with that fanfic/fictional-story feeling of fiction with a "nice morning" and Aziraphale being an angel towards the humans around him (which is suspicious that said human is Maggie) and finally the arrive of nude Gabriel as a plot start point.

I point this out because in season one God narrated things and all felt more normal, like the world was boring, ordinary nothing really extraordinary if demons or angels or the antichrist weren't involved (which was the reason Newton Pulsifer could located the unusual weather Taddfield had the prior eleven years), but this season the ambientation of the street was different (or I felt that way) like it was nicer less mundane or normal or ordinary...

We know angels don't completely get the human behavior, that's why I know I saw humans doing human things and having human reactions (when everyone was filming naked amnesiac Gabriel or the owners of the shops) but things like the ambientation of the street or Maggie and Nina's reactions towards magic (in season 1 Shadwell, Madame Tracy, Anathema, the Them or Newton had more realistic reactions when miracles were perform around them) or the demons surrounding the library (my first thought was "this smells like a Halloween Disney movie"), all those things felt a bit like if someone was writing something with not really idea of how the world work.

Finally, all this lead us to "the coffee theory" which is possible and if Metatron was writing the world we saw taking references from other things that already existed, would explain why that feeling of "fanfic" and... AND why he walked into the human world to interact with Aziraphale, the humans and the world instead of appear only as a gigantic head in the middle of the book shop. He needed to be there or at least he wanted to be there and was confident enough about his plan to go down to earth.

Angels were all about bureaucracy, they only showed their faces on earth if there is something important to do or say, but in season 1 Metatron didn't go down or interact, except when Aziraphale called him. And I think that plus the mega-powerful miracle that Aziraphale+Crowley casted over Jim/Gabriel, those two things were the reasons why Metatron decided that he needed Aziraphale by his side. (we can't forget this is a you are on my side or you are against me, kind of situation) And Metatron did something to Aziraphale which lead to the divorce kiss scene and our broken hearts.

That's all I have.

Thanks for reading.

And please, feel free to add or correct me if I'm wrong about something.

[werewolf-girl-knot]

SO. About W5...

I ended up "legally acquiring" a digital copy of the core book and just finished my first read through of it. Some thoughts.

First of all, let me say my major gripes about it re: indigenous and disability erasure remain present, and do end up being a deal breaker for me regarding Paradox and giving them any money.

Still, there's some interesting stuff in here. I am personally a V5 enjoyer. I dislike 'gothic superhero' type chronicles, cumbersome lore and mechanical bloat. I do like Personal horror, power that comes with serious costs, character-focused storytelling, urban fantasy that feels contemporary and grounded, and brave, direct political themes. so V5 ended up being a general improvement for me over V20, give or take some small things. These are the biasas I'm carrying into my thoughts on W5.

The good: Rage Dice make a return from V5's hunger dice, and with improvements! Hunger dice were controversial in V5, but personally I found them to be a fantastic way to keep the Beast as a present threat in your chronicle. Finally, a reason for being a vampire to actually feel like a curse! And Rage dice in W5 I like even more. I enjoy how they turn failure into success when you're trying to accomplish something violent, but otherwise can cause critical problems with your approach when you're *not* trying to be violent. It really encourages you to get into character and play your character more impatient and aggressive when your rage is higher. Finally, Rage that actually feels like a double-edged sword! The things Rage does is also an improvement for me. I dislike extra actions in TTRPGs, ironically I find that they just slow things down with too much dice rolling. Making Rage something you spend to regenerate faster is a much better idea.

The forms are more distinct and interesting now as well. This is one of the things W5 takes from Forsaken than it very good. Finally, a reason to use Hispo and Glabro! Crinos feels extra powerful, *and* risky, with its rule that it will enter a frenzy if you don't kill something that round making it much more threatening and dangerous, which is precisely how it's always been described in the lore, but never really represented in the game very well until now. Claws are high damage but only deal mundane types of damage and Bite is lower damage but Agg. Also good from a design standpoint, makes the rule about not eating human flesh finally matter.

Harano and Hauglosk. Harano finally becomes a present threat for Garou. Something they need to fight against, and help their pack against. It seems to operate a bit like a humanity stat, only that your sweet spot is in the middle. Too far in the other direction, and your character starts to flirt with fanaticism. This is just fantastic for making Werewolf have an actual morality system, a balance in their faith/convictions based on actions taken in the chronicle. Much more interesting than Gnosis as being an essentially meaningless resource. I have seen some braindead takes about this being a way for STs to punish players?? Don't play with STs who try to punish you and force you to do what they would do. Simple as.

The bad: new takes on the tribes. Generally I like how the book explains lore concepts, but the new tribes are so sanitized with any possible ounce of controversy taken out of them, that the political themes most of them were built to explore are totally absent, or significantly muted. In a vaccum I would think making the Get of Fenris fall would be a very interesting way to drive forward the plot, but the execution here makes them feel a little cartoonist. Very roundabout in saying that they've become werewolf eco-facists, a better way to do this be making a Hauglosk-ed version of each tribe to represent the corruption of each tribe's ideology. The cult of Fenris work as a general condemnation of the worst side of Garou in general, but having the bad guys camps in W20 just worked better for this, and had lots of room for improvement. As with all the other tribes, the Get of Fenris feels flattened and removed from its cultural context.

The Ugly: Paradox being horrible and racist. If you haven't read about this already, then... Idk how you found this post really. But this post covers it more thoroughly than I could.

The book attempts to address this with a note I put in the bottom, listing some facts about the issues experienced by indigenous groups, while making a half hearted attempt to connect it to the Garou. In the face of this erasure from their actual game though, it feels like a platitude.

As for the removal of crinos-born Garou, it's another flattening of a complicated part of the game's politics. It might have been nice to see Garou culture advance a bit, but removing them entirely removes the representation they embodied. Most of the direct representation in this game has been removed, but I think the the indigenous and disability represent the most egregious loss, especially in a game about those who are most actively being sacrificed in the name of capitalism. Which isn't some fandom interpretation, it is literally stated in the book.

This all leaves me very sour on the game's fiction, which for a storytelling game like Werewolf the Apocalypse, is important. Which is a shame, because I see a lot of good steps forward in the mechanics, making a game that's more fiction-first, without all the terrible attempts at capturing D&D's wargame combat. But frankly, it's hard to want a game who's treated it's writers so poorly to do well, even if I do think the current writers did very well with the constraints they were given. It's hard to recommend that anyone pay money for this.

[randomsufff]

Here’s the “Why The Great Gatsby Musical is a bad Musical Adaptation” essay no one asked for-

(For the record- I haven’t researched anything or re-read the Great Gatsby in years so apologies if I get things wrong this is just me going off the dome with other people’s video essays [Sideways fans where y’all at] and the two Adaptations in Media courses I took in college)

(Also seems like I accidentally posted this before I finished so to those of yall who saw this before I was done- no you didn’t)

First things first- we gotta establish the core story/ moral lesson that the musical is trying to say.

Cause if this was a normal one to one adaptation of the book- I’d say the musical did a fucking shit job.

Cause adaptation are taking a story and changing it to fit a new medium. AKA- you don’t change the main story or elements that make that story… THAT STORY or else it’s not an adaptation- that’s just something else entirely with the same characters and such. You can ADD or REMOVE to the storyline or characters- but you can’t CHANGE them or else it’s not true to the original source material [and you get a lot of pissed fans as we’ve seen time and time again]

(Side rant- Which is why musicals like “Groundhog Day” and “Legally Blonde” are so praised. [ok maybe just me who likes the Groundhog Day musical but it’s really the perfect movie to musical adaptation]. They don’t change the story but rather ADD ON to what is already there to make it better. While Phils break comes from his own contentment in where he is rather then his love for Rita, this change ADDS ON to reasons why Rita falls for him, and they flesh out Rita as a character and her dynamic with Phil WAY more. Elle has a more fleshed out and deeper relationship with Warner which wasn’t seen in the film)

When you “adapt” a piece of media, and don’t stick or keep the IDEA of that media that makes it so likable- fans are gonna be pissed when you try to pass this off as the thing they like without all the heart. (Hence all the HBO Velma/ Scooby Doo adaptations in general hate, or Into the Woods/Heathers/ Dear Even Hansen/ etc. movie vs musical debate)

SO WHEN THIS MUSICAL SHIFTS THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF THE STORY FROM A COMMENTARY OF OLD VS NEW MONEY AND HOW MONEY CORRUPTS TO A FUCKING LOVE STORY- CAN YOU BLAME PEOPLE WHO LIKED THE BOOK ABOUT BEING OUTRAGED. But I’m getting ahead of myself

I’ll give this musical the benefit of the doubt. People defend this musical by saying it’s an INTERPRETATION of the book. And I can’t argue with that so let’s look at how the musical failed as a musical (in my eyes) without pointing out the glaring difference in theme. (Even though I’m still pissed about it)

Which brings us to finding the core of THIS musical. What makes this story unique to this musical. Think back to every musical you know- I’d say most, if not all, of them have some moral or message they say at the end. And even if not- they at least tell a narrative. Something the main character LEARNS and/or TEACHES to others to make them a changed person from the beginning (very similar to typical narrative structures because that’s basically what a musical is- a story with music in it)

So what is The Great Gatsby’s core narrative?

And I KNOW the theme isn’t about Old vs New money cause they NEVER SHOW OTHERWISE except the ONE LINE at the very end. And they RUSH PAST all the consequences of all the rich peoples actions so it doesn’t seem like much was at stake. At least in the book Daisy is shown to value Old Money more and is more flaky around Gatsby- using him more obviously. BUT IF YOU CHANGE THE STORY SO THEY’RE BOTH INFATUATED WITH EACH OTHER- that selfishness and value on old money DOSENT HIT. Even NICK doesn’t know the lesson that “money makes people suck” in the musical until apparently the last 10 minutes??? Though it’s never shown his gradually trying to learn this lesson???

So that makes us turn to “is it a love story/ tragedy about Gatsby and Daisy”? And even then I’d say no! Or at least I’m not sure- because they honestly don’t show much of their relationship other than what’s in the surface.

Be so for real- ignoring that it’s Eva Noblezada and Jeremy Jorden singing- what do we ACTUALLY KNOW about Daisy and Jays relationship via lyrics??? That Jay went to war- they danced at a ball, Daisy liked him but thought he would die at war and moved on, and got married to Tom for security. There is NOTHING OF SUBSTANCE HERE. WHY did they fall in love? WHAT did Daisy like about Jay? WHAT DID JAY LIKE ABOUT DAISY?

There’s NOTHING HERE for the audience to feel and root for this couple. In literally any other (good) musical you’d have a grand ol song or spectacle about what the two love interests see in each other, which you BUILD UP over multiple interactions and dialogue. All they do whenever they’re on stage or singing is talk about how much they’re in love with each other- but not really why??? It’s so surface level- “we love each other so so so much and I’ll die without you”- but not actually showing, I guess, evidence of this? If that makes sense??? WHAT DO THEY SEE IN EACH OTHER THAT THEY CANT GET ANYWHERE ELSE? I didn’t feel anything when they got together, and I felt nothing when they got separated.

It doesn’t help that this musical tries to tell too many storylines at once. Yup I’m talking about the useless Jordan and Nick plot. WHAT is the purpose here? It just talks up time away from the main romance (if that was the core story) and ends too abruptly to convey the “Money corrupts” angle (if that’s what they were going for???? I literally can’t tell)

So right off that bat I have no idea what this musical wants out of me or want to achieve. Is it making a capitalist commentary? A feminist one? Is this a love story? Between who??? Nick and Jordan or Jay and Daisy? I think the musical WANTS to achieve all of these at once, but it doesn’t and CAN’T work.

Sure, musicals can have multiple lessons or storylines, but usually, there’s ONE MAIN ONE that the rest stem off or build upon, making it layered. I feel like this musical wanted to equally showcase all these points, which made it feel like nothing was said cause they tried to give every point an equal amount of stage time.

If the main story is supposed to be about the Romeo and Juliet type tragedy between Jay and Daisy, why did they not show more conflict between the two? Why did they completely omit them fully reuniting and the moments before and after Daisy hit Myrtle???? That’s like their main breaking point and yall not even gonna show that????

If it’s between Nick and Jorden why do they not have a meaningful ending to their relationship? Why was Jorden so down bad for MARRYING Nick?

They then could have layered on the different messages, through side plots or dialogue or whatever to convey the other points

Ok so now that that’s finally out of the way let’s get into the res gif it real quick.

Nicks the main character but he dosent seem to learn anything or change at all until the last 10 minutes, and even then, it’s not THAT fleshed out. He just seems to be going through the story and has like such little impact despite literally being one of the main characters.

And yeah- he didn’t do much in the novel either but you were reading all this shit through HIS EYES. You got to hear HIS thoughts and how HE described situations, so you were still connected to he guy and knew his deal mostly.

In the musical, the only times he truly narrates is the begging, the song “The Met”, and the end. And after meeting Jordan, anytime he’s on stage, he mostly doing something with her. He never feels INVOLVED with Gatsby and Daisy’s plot after they get together. He kinda like, fucks off and does his own thing for like the rest of the show. It’s so weird- just invoke your main narrator more. ALSO JUST HAVE HIM NARRATE? Not sure why they made him stop narrating beyond the beginning and end but I think it would have been fun if Nick addressed the audience and had asides with his thoughts and such through the show.

Finally- though it’s not a huge huge nitpick- the songs.

I just felt like- they say a whole lot of nothing. Like half of the songs don’t add much in terms of character or plot, at least, nothing that couldn’t be easily said in a line of dialogue.

I’m not sure if this is true for ALL musicals, but I’d say generally, sons in (good) musicals have to either move to plot forward, or provide deeper insight to a characters feelings.

First example that comes to my mind is Tim Minchins Groundhog Day Musical (cause I really really love that musical). Literally every song in that musical either moves the plot forward, or provides a deeper view to a character that you’d literally never hear otherwise cause they’d never say that shit outloud.

When I look at this musical- only about half of the songs achieve this. Songs like “Absolute Rose” or “Second Hand Suit” and even “One Way Road” are great at proving a look beyond a surface level at the characters. But songs like “For Her” or “My Green Light” felt redundant cause they said what we already saw for 3 minutes. I already said this, but it would have been better if they used these songs to delve into WHY Daisy and Jay are so infatuated with each other. What about the other made Jay want to go after her for like 10 years or Daisy want to have an affair with him.

And the song “The Met” was GREAT for actively pushing forward the plot. Like it moved THROUGH the scene if that makes sense. Unlike other songs which kind felt crammed in as the plot moves around the song.

Cause that’s the thing about this musicals songs is that half of them don’t feel INTEGRATED into the plot. The story doesn’t continue throughout the song, you’re just kinda stuck in the scene with the character until they’re done singing. Of course there are the few exceptions (“Shady”, “Second Hand Suit” and “The Met” and of course) but almost every other song you don’t see the plot move forward WITH the song. And of course not every song in every musical HAS to move through the story, but if you’re going to have a musical with 23 songs, you need to use some of them to continue the plot forward.

It feels like the composers only used about half the potential that songs in musicals can do, cause they mostly only used it for like, romantic or big emotional moments and they don’t do much while they do.

In contrast, in the (here I go again) Groundhog Day Musical, in one song “One Day” (the Act 1 Finale) we 1) learn Rita’s reasoning why she keeps rejecting Phil and her personal thoughts on love and relationships. 2) See Phil repeatedly try to date Rita and keep failing. 3) See Phil’s thoughts and dive into depression as the luster of the loops wear off. And 4) Set up the other townies problems to the audience that Phil to help with in the middle of Act Two. 5) Pushes home the moral of the story (the townies always saying “one day, in the future, I’ll get all this shit done”) FIVE SEPARATE POINTS. All wrapped up in a montage as the audience get to see Phil become more and more demotivated as the loops go on.

Granted it is like 7 minutes long, but even compared to The Great Gatsby’s 5 minute “Roaring On”- I can only think of the song 1) Introducing how cryptic Gatsby is 2) Very brief backstory on Nick. 3) The set up of party goers always looking for the next party. And even then, “One Day” has a literal montage of failed dates by Phil, then has all the Townies stand fragmented as they say their problems, then shows him literally go through his day BACKWARDS to highlight how fucked up time is for him and how everything blurs together (and it genius because it uses core poses and people they established and hammered into your brain since the beginning of the show to make it so you can recognize the scene just by one person doing one thing- AGH I can go on forever about this show)

What does “Roaring On” have going for it? Nothing. Just dancers dancing and Nick standing there singing

“Oh, but it’s not that fair to compare an Act 1 Finale to the opening number…” Alright let compare the Great Gatsby’s Finale to other musicals shall we.

First off, “My Green Light” really does not have much going for it. No offense if you like the song, but what do we learn through this song? That Daisy also missed Gatsby but moved on for her own good and that they want the other “save” them. For Daisy, I can understand Gatsby maybe “saving” her from Tom, but what does Gatsby need saving from? Loneliness? Again, WHY HER?

Now again, I’ll try to be fair since there are act one closers that aren’t big spectacles (Looking at you Book of Mormon). Off the top of my head, “Our Love is God” from Heathers is similar in concept to what TGG is trying to do. They’re both love songs involving the main characters that they sing to the other. But what makes “Our Love is God” stand out is that it’s also the point where JD reveals his true colors, and both the audience and Veronica learn how obsessive his love is for her. It starts out as a sweet love song, sung in a loving tone, but by the end he uses the exact same words in a more sinister and possessive tone and you get to see Veronica kinda realize what she’s gotten herself into. “My Green Light” has nothing like that. It’s actually kind of a mundane place to end act one, cause there’s literally nothing going on that they could by have just said at some point. I mean even if you take it out and don’t replace it with anything, there’s nothing in there that’s you couldn’t infer or just get via the rest of the show. They could have shifted everything so that landed at their reconnection over tea at Nicks so it would be more plot relevant. Or even shifted it to when she comes to one of Gatsby’s party for the first time.

Dear Even Hansen has an emotional Act One Closer, but even that is directly connected to the plot. “You Will be Found” IS literally the thing that kick starts the downfall of Evan, and the message of the song is one that can apply to anyone in the audience.

I don’t know, if I remember correctly, I was kinda surprised when they went to curtain cause it was such a boring place for Act One to end, I expected there to be more.

Anyways, I think that’s basically it. So The Great Gatsby could have been a great musical if they actually chose a MAIN storyline to completely follow through on, and utilized songs to their full potential in musical theater rather. 👍

[thesweetestclementine]

They Should Have Killed the Kids

Superheaven this and coffee theory that. The part of GOs2 that made me angriest was the Job minisode. I’m seeing people say that this was the strongest of the three, and I am here to strongly disagree with them. The writers missed the point of the entire book, and they turned what could have been an incredible study on the human condition into, like, a Doctor Who episode with Bible Flavor™. Buckle up. This got very long. 

Forewarned is forearmed: I’m coming at this from the perspective of a lapsed Calvinist Protestant. Come shout at me in my DMs if you have also been traumatized by conservative Christianity :D

Part 1: In the Beginning

The first order of business is to understand the text they are adapting. A Companion to Owls is the only minisode that’s pulling material directly from another source, so it’s easier to scrutinize by merit of there being something you can compare the adaptational differences to. For me, being able to go back and forth between the minisode and Job made the issues with Companion much easier to spot, whereas I had a harder time pinpointing exactly where the other two went wrong. Point being, I re-read Book of Job for the first time since high school, and I’m here to report back with my findings.

The Book of Job is a 42-chapter poetic cycle that covers the worst week of Job’s life. It is a beautiful reflection on the cruelty of existence and the capriciousness of God. There are several, several moving passages that get really existential and take a pretty interesting stance on God’s mercy that you don’t really see in the rest of the Bible. I’d recommend reading it - it’s not super long, and there are some passages in it that people reference constantly.

Here’s what happens in Job as Good Omens tells it: Job is the most blameless man on Earth. Because, or maybe in spite, of his righteousness, he’s absolutely loaded. God and Satan make a bet that Satan can/can’t cause Job to sin by dragging him by his hair through the desert (metaphorically. Maybe). Satan holds up his end of the bet. Job, sheep-less, camel-less, child-less, and covered in sores and ash, fails to forsake God. God talks to him and tells him that he knows jack about all, and that it is not his place to question the Lord. Job passes with flying colors. He gets his stuff back even better than before. The end.

The moral of this story is that God lets bad things happen even to the most righteous, and there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. 

Oh, wait. What’s that? My analysis is incomplete? You’re telling me I’m missing an entire thirty-five chapters of this 42-chapter book? 

Part 2: Where are Job’s friends???

If you’ve never had to sit through multiple, multiple sermons about Job, you might not be familiar with Job’s friends: Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. Job calls them ‘miserable comforters,’ and a lot of Christian sources give them a pretty bad rap, but they are genuinely Job’s friends and want the best for him. They hang out with him after he’s lost everything and try to get him to fess up to whatever he did wrong so that he can get God’s forgiveness. They leap to God’s defense, which you’d think for the time and place is the right thing to do. But in their desire to see Job restored to his previous position, they don’t hear Job’s protests that he has remained blameless. They argue with him about this, over and over. In fact, the argument Job has with his friends is most of the Book of Job. It’s the heart of Job. To cut his friends out of an adaptation is a fool’s errand, because it means you’ve misunderstood the point of Job.

When you add the friends back in, Job’s story then becomes a discussion (a literal discussion, because of the arguing) about how God’s will for the righteous includes hardship, and your loved ones, well-meaning as they might be, will be unable to truly grasp your suffering and cannot possibly interpret God’s will for you. Job was bang on the money when he said he hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet his friends talk over him in an attempt to help him. Being offered useless or even harmful help when you’re in serious pain is an incredibly relatable, human experience. 

I don’t know why they cut the friends. Maybe it was too expensive to hire the three actors needed. Maybe the minisode was too short to flesh out a good friends plot. Maybe COVID restrictions fucked it up, I don’t know. Any way you slice it, Companion would have been a hell of a lot stronger had they taken time to actually include them, instead of making a stupid joke about shoemaking. If Good Omens is really a story about humanity, there is no more human experience than having your friends talk over you.

If you’re adapting Job, then, and you’re not going to talk about his friends, what is left in the story to focus on?

Part 3: Job’s Kids: Hotter, Blesseder, Faster, Stronger

So the writers of Companion decide to focus on the morality of God okaying the destruction of Job’s kids. This is such a weird decision. I understand why you’d want to adapt this; harming children should prompt a strong, visceral, horrified reaction from your audience, and it also asks some thorny questions about God’s divine will. It’s a great story for showcasing the callousness of God without having to do a lot of heavy lifting.

But the kids in the Book of Job aren’t even kids--they’re adults with their own households and land. While it is tragic that Job’s entire family dies, Satan is not going after helpless children, but instead markers of Job’s power and wealth. God probably would have told Satan to hold off on killing the kids if they were small, like She told him to hold off on attacking Job’s health initially (key word here is probably. God doesn’t have a good track record there. Hold that thought). This is a huge oversight on the writers’ part. Again, it makes me feel like they’ve missed the point of the book, almost substituting the original message for one they’ve created themselves.

If you wanted to retell a Bible story where you can just tear into the idea of God killing little kids to test someone’s righteousness, you have your pick. The story of Abraham and young Isaac is right there. Hell, the additional complexity of Abraham going along with it and not simply being taken along for the ride would have reflected the themes of Good Omens a lot better. There is no point in adapting Job for that reason.

Ooh, actually, adapting the story of Absalom would have been super cool. I’m getting off topic.

Job works best as a story showcasing the callousness of Man, rather than God. She is peripheral; She’s a side character; She only appears in the framing device and the divine smackdown. Her lack of concern serves as a mirror to the friends’s lack of concern: they are all trying to push their own agenda on Job, who is just trying to weather a cosmic pissing contest. It is not the focus of Job. The Book of Job does not care about the kids, and no adaptation worth its salt is going to care about the kids, either. It’s going to care about the friends.

Also, I couldn’t make this fact fit in cleanly, but the Bible goes out of its way to point out how hot Job’s new daughters are. Anyway.

Part 4: John Finnemore Giveth, and John Finnemore Taketh Away.

This is the part of the screed post where I veer into speculation and armchair screenwriting. If you’re locked in to an adaptation of Job and you want to focus on the kids, how do you make that more narratively satisfying?

You don’t resolve the main conflict by staging a goofy resurrection and returning everything to normal, for one.

When I say that Companion feels like Doctor Who, this is what I mean. A boiler-plate Doctor Who episode introduces a cool sci-fi concept & its complement ethical conflict and aims to resolve it in 45 minutes or fewer. Therefore, the concepts are interesting but not technical, and the conflicts are serious but not complicated. Despite its reputation, the resolution is usually hopeful and upbeat. The minisode has all the makings of a Doctor Who episode - it follows the same formula. Your concept - Job - is something a person who isn’t Biblepilled and Christocelled is probably vaguely familiar with, and, like, you can argue that killing small children for sport is not a conflict with a clear right and wrong, but you would be both incorrect and also a bad person.

To say that this makes me irrationally angry is to underestimate my rage. I realize I am not an average viewer, because I am Biblepilled and Christocelled against my will. BUT it makes me SO MAD that they treat Job like a black and white scifi adventure that they can neatly tie up in 25 minutes. At the end of the original story, Job’s original kids are gone. He may have gotten his health and wealth back, but there are ten people who were very dear to him that he will never see again. It ends in this weird, happy-ish gray space that the original Good Omens book also closes on - the conflict has just been kicked down the road, not fully resolved, and the story ends before we explore the consequences of that.

So, if I was the writer for this minisode, how would I suck the Doctor Who out of the episode? 

I think the thing they should have done was have the kids survive that thunderstorm, and then have the Archangels destroy them before Aziraphale and Crowley could do anything about it. 

Would it be tonally out of wack from the rest of the season? Absolutely. I still think they should have done it. Actually killing the kids gives Heaven teeth and makes the Apocalypse of last season seem like an actual threat. It would also force Aziraphale to have a different, more impactful crisis of faith than the one he had at the end of the minisode. Lying to your superiors is uncomfortable, but the thing that really rocks people’s faith in any system is seeing it fail unnecessarily and catastrophically.

I’m not expecting Paradise Lost, here. I just want something that hits at least half as hard as the original book. And saving the kids just doesn’t do it for me.

Part 5: Oh God, There’s More?

If you’ve read to this point, you are braver than any US Marine. I hope it made sense and that you are now as angry as I am about the Job minisode. I have issues with the other two minisodes (WHY WERE THERE LIGHTS ON DURING THE BLITZ?????) but they did not inspire a 2,000 word Tumblr post that was mostly written in a fugue state between the hours of 3 and 6 a.m. on a work night. A Companion to Owls, to me, missed the main points of both the Book of Job and the original Good Omens. 

Because what Good Omens is is a story about knowing humanity in all its multifaceted ugliness and choosing it anyway because the good and strange bits are good and strange enough to outweigh that ugliness. The Book of Job highlights a little part of the beauty and horror of humanity in a deeply relatable way, and instead of working with the themes of both works, Companion works against them.

Also...Job never had goats. He had sheep, camels, donkeys, oxen, and children, but not goats. Details, motherfuckers.

[ladylynse]

Gravity falls and star vs the forces of evil

Dipper x janna

Word magic

Okay. I misread this in my email. I got the GF/SvtFoE part. And I almost got the ship. But somehow I got 'Evil!Dipper' instead of just 'Dipper' and I wrote that before re-reading this so uh. Bonus three sentences under the cut, I guess?

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Sometimes, Dipper still couldn’t believe it had started as simply as it had—“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” she’d said from the shadows, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin and successfully causing him to flub the fire spell he’d been trying out on his would-be campfire, leaving his fingertips coated with ashes instead of sparks—but Janna….

Janna hadn’t laughed at him for believing what he did, hadn’t tried to explain it away, and hadn’t run when she’d realized it was truly magic he wielded and not magic tricks; she’d grinned and asked him to teach her.

She was better at it than he was, and she would rub in that little fact at every opportunity and then some, but the friendly competition helped him improve more than his studying alone ever had, and she…she made him better in a different way, too, and not just when it came to research—even if that’s all he told Mabel the two of them were doing, though he was well aware from her flat look that she didn’t buy it for a second.

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see more fics | crossovers 

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Bonus: Janna/Evil!Dipper

Janna wasn’t fooling herself; she knew about the part of Dipper that he tried to keep hidden from her and her friends, the part that had Tom frowning at him behind his back, Jackie raising her eyebrows at Janna whenever Dipper wasn’t looking, Marco acting even more protective of everyone than usual, and Star hesitating a split second before offering a smile after a not-quite-joking remark on Dipper’s part.

That part, however well or poorly hidden, connected to Dipper’s past—though all Janna had managed to ferret out so far was that he had a sister he teasingly called Shooting Star—but it was also, unquestioningly, related to magic.

Dipper, despite what Star had done, could still do magic, still had a functioning spell book, or a least a journal with spells in it that seemed more reliable than Star’s spells had ever been, and maybe Janna just found the allure of magic intoxicating, maybe she was drawn to him because he was wielding a power no one else could, maybe she had kissed him that first time simply to get a closer look at the book he’d tried to hide from her when she’d walked in on him without knocking—but the thrill of this, whatever this was, had her seeking more, and he hadn’t turned her away yet.