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cksmart-world · 2 years ago

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

by Christopher Smart

March 28, 2023

JACK DANIELS: OUR WHISKEY IS NOT DOG POOP

The Supreme Court just couldn't seem to suss it out. VIP Products came up with a dog chew toy parody called Bad Spaniels shaped like a bottle of Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 Tennessee Whiskey. The chew toy is labeled, “Old No. 2 on your Tennessee carpet.” And while Jack is 40 proof, Bad Spaniels claims it's 43% POO BY VOL. The whiskey company was not amused and sued, claiming trademark infringement. It's attorney argued that, "Jack Daniel's loves dogs and appreciates a good joke... But doesn't want its customers associating its fine whiskey with dog poop.” The justices seemed befuddled. A chew toy as a parody of a whiskey bottle? “I just don't get it,” said Justice Elena Kagan. Nor was Kagan buying the argument from VIP's attorney that the chew toy had First Amendment protection. “This is not a political T-shirt. It’s not a film. It’s not an artistic photograph,” Kagan said. “It's a dog toy.” Is Jack just shit or legendary whiskey? Do chew toys have First Amendment rights or could tipsy drinkers bight into them after one too many. While senators grilled Supreme Court nominees Neil M. Gorsuch, Bret Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett on Roe v. Wade, no one thought to ask about parody versus the First Amendment. Our future could rest on their ruling — shooters anyone?

CAUGHT WITH HIS PANTS DOWN: MICHELANGELO'S DAVID

So-called great works of art are OK as long as they aren't, you-know, lewd and suggestive. We don't want our kids asking a bunch of embarrassing questions, like, daddy, what's that. And we don't want some woke so-called “educators” taking on parental duties — they could even screw up the birds and bees. Sure, you can see a bit of Mona Lisa's cleavage, but that can always be touched up with a Sharpie. And look at the “Girl With the Golden Earring” — true, she's got suggestive ears, but you can't even see her front. So we have to give a big God-bless-you to the Tallahassee Classical School Board for firing that principal who during a so-called Renaissance art lesson showed a nude depiction of Michelangelo's David with his junk hanging out and everything. So what if it's famous; for us, it's nothing but pornography. Those Tallahassee parents had every right to go totally bonkers. David for chrissakes. Those so-called “educators” want to “educate” our kids — but we know that's code for wokeness indoctrination. Is it any wonder we want to take over schools so our kids don't learn about stuff like racism and sexual orientation or how Eve ate the apple of knowledge. It could get them to asking more difficult questions. “Daddy, what's the apple of knowledge.” Oh Lord, help us.

GWENETH PALTROW: BANGER OR BANGEE

Tragedy: movie star and an old geezer collide on a ski slope. Gweneth Paltrow, the Oscar-winner for “Shakespeare In Love,” testified in Utah's 3rd District Court that in 2016 someone's skis appeared between hers coming from behind. Oh my gawd, she thought, I'm being sexually assaulted at Deer Valley in my new designer ski pants. To scream or not to scream, that is the question. “[Y]ou skied into my F-ing back,” she bellowed at Terry Sanderson. The drama unfolded at the Park City trial where Sanderson, 76, is seeking $300,000 in damages, claiming that Paltrow skied into him causing brain damage and broken ribs. Twas not nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune than to take arms against the rich bitch. For the production's costume Paltrow wore a $600 cardigan, gold necklace chains worth $65,000, a $595 turtle neck and $1,200 boots. “I doubt not then but innocence shall make false accusations blush and tyranny tremble at patience,” she testified. But Sanderson's attorney wasn't buying it. “False face must hide what the false heart doth know.” And so it goes — can justice prevail after six long years. It echoes Shakespeare: “Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.” Twas ever thus — for little people anyway.

Post script — Well Wilson, rehab isn't nearly as fun as it's cracked up to be — but here we are. Folks may not know that the staff here at Smart Bomb has been in rehab for a time getting it together. And boy howdy does the world look a lot different from this vantage. People outside are rushing around, going crazy. Everything is a big deal and everyone has anxiety headaches. They've got deadlines and quotas and itchy bosses who have to make their numbers for idiots on high who live in pink and blue bubbles. There's snow and commuter traffic and the kid doesn't know what sex to be. It's little wonder they don't pay much mind to the apocalypse. And should they look up, they're bombarded with pressing news: Ukraine, China, Russia, taxes, Fox News, the Orange Monster. Maybe the end of the world doesn't seem so bad after all. You're right Wilson, they should change their lifestyle. Move to San Diego and sell $10 sunglasses on the beach. Steal away to Tahiti and paint topless women like Gauguin. Find a little ski town and become a barista or bartender. The money's not great but the extra-curricular sex ain't' bad — and you don't have to pay taxes on it. How do you spell S-U-C-C-E-S-S.

No Wilson, we aren't in that kind of rehab. We're in a place where not-so-young people go to get their legs and backs fixed while wondering how long they can keep up a youthful charade. It's challenging but nothing compared to a job with a sociopathic boss. Want to get away? Give the band some Narcon, Wilson, and take us on outa here:

Everybody's talkin' at me I don't hear a word they're sayin' Only the echoes of my mind People stoppin', starin' I can't see their faces Only the shadows of their eyes I'm going where the sun keeps shinin' Through the pourin' rain Going where the weather suits my clothes Bankin' off of the northeast winds Sailin' on a summer breeze And skippin' over the ocean like a stone

Wah, wah-wah-wah-wah Wah-wah-wah-wah, wah-wah-wah Wah I'm going where the sun keeps shinin' Through the pourin' rain Going where the weather suits my clothes Bankin' off of the northeast winds Sailin' on a summer breeze And skippin' over the ocean like a stone Everybody's talkin' at me Can't hear a word they're sayin' Only the echoes of my mind

(Everybody’s Talkin’ — Harry Nilsson)

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ineffable-endearments · 3 years ago

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Okay. Now I'm going to submit some theories about how I think Crowley and Aziraphale specifically are going to go in the future of Good Omens.

Again, this post is not really...specific theorizing about plot events. It's big-picture stuff.

With that said, this post will get a bit heavy at times, in the sense that it will contain opinions that not everyone will like. It drifted into rambling about queerbaiting and all that stuff. I'm not going to spam anyone's dashboard with drama over it, but it's very possible someone else might try. It's also not really a negative post, depending on what you want to hear, I suppose. But if you're only in the mood to read fluff today, you'll probably want to pass it up.

Oh! Also it's very long, and sexuality is discussed in a vague way that doesn't involve any story elements or body parts.

For starters, I don't think Good Omens 2 - or even 3, if that comes about - is going to have anything explicitly sexual or romantic between the two of them, where "explicit" is things like the characters giving outright definitions of their relationship or outright discussing exactly what goes on between them, either on or off-screen. I also don't think there's going to be kissing or "hooking up" (come on...that person on Twitter shouldn't have even asked). Those actions are too blatant for what Neil has already said about the series. While they technically leave some room for interpretation, they probably don't leave enough.

I DO think it's quite possible other characters will continue to define the relationship FOR them and Crowley and Aziraphale will continue to not deny it.

As far as the queerbaiting debate, "is Good Omens queerbaiting"...it's gonna depend how you define it. I always learned that queerbaiting was basically where the creators intentionally make it look like a character is gay or otherwise queer but then swap that character development out for a cis identity and hetero relationship at the end. The point is that the "bait" leads to queer audiences being actively hurt. That's the behavior that seems awful to me, and I don't see Neil and company doing that.

However, I think it's far and away the most likely option that it will be left up to interpretation whether Crowley and Aziraphale are, you know, a buddy duo or a romantic couple or some sort of ineffable queerness all their own off-screen. So if your definition of queerbaiting is "the characters seem gay to us, but homophobes can tell themselves they're not," then yes, I think that debate will follow us to our graves if we let it.

I am a cisgender, possibly straight (?? demi/bi? I might never find out) woman. There is absolutely no way I could ever tell anybody, ESPECIALLY not gay guys and nonbinary people - the people Crowley and Aziraphale tend to resemble the most - how to feel about their treatment in the story. All I can offer is that I'm one flawed individual and there are things I have the emotional capacity to handle and things I don't. Crowley and Aziraphale as both a canon construct and a fandom pairing mean an absurd amount to me, and I can't hang around in spaces where people are constantly talking about how my own interpretations of them are not enough, or how the story is written with ill intentions. I don't want to stop anybody from venting about it, but I am going to be removing myself from those situations.

I like to imagine 1990 NeilandTerry, or TerryandNeil, as a sort of two-headed God who came up with Crowley and Aziraphale, set them loose on Creation, and now are watching them get up to way more ridiculous stuff in the brains of their fans than they'd ever imagined in the first place. I like to imagine them watching, amused and bemused, as their creations fall in love in thousands of universes, and saying, "Well, we didn't specifically Plan for this, but we did promise free will."

This is psychoanalytical toward a public figure and is therefore a bit dangerous, so please take it with an entire mountain of salt, but I sometimes think perhaps Neil sees some of his and Terry's friendship in Crowley and Aziraphale, and suspect that he wants to reserve the possibility that they could be platonic because he and Terry were platonic, while at the same time leaving room for the fans to have their own interpretations, too. Because if there's one thing that comes up really frequently with Neil, it's his belief in imagination and how much stories matter to people. He can have his little corner of the universe where A and C reflect himself and Terry, and we can have...literally anything we want, as long as we're willing to extrapolate just a little bit from canon. It's not even that much extrapolation! It's just "Yes, they love each other, so what exactly does love mean to you?" and if love means kissing, well then, if we can think it, we can have it.

Given that Neil has written LGBT+ characters before, I think he has non-bigoted reasons for wanting Aziraphale and Crowley to remain undefined, and given even the small chance that those reasons may involve the grieving process for a dead friend, I believe it is unkind to argue with him about it or hold his reputation hostage over it.

With that said, do I want canon kissing/hooking up/all that stuff we put in fics? Listen, I can't deny that I do! Personally, I'd be over the moon. I'd probably be so happy I'd have to go to the hospital to get sorted out. Even the thought of it makes me giddy and light-headed, because that physicality is a part of my own experience of love.

However, there are a lot of people who would feel left behind if that happened. Ace and aro people in the fandom whose love for their friends and partners is just as strong as mine, but who are sex-repulsed or just don't want to see kissing on-screen. The loss of Crowley and Aziraphale as a pairing who are extremely easy to interpret as queerplatonic would be hurtful to them, and I do not want to see them hurt like that. I don't think Neil does, either.

So, once again, the "best for everyone" option becomes a really strong canon relationship based in both narrative function and profound affection, which has genuinely thoughtful queer undertones and leaves open the logical possibility for romantic or sexual encounters but does not insist that they must happen. People, especially fans who are super invested, tend to have an easier time imagining scenarios that take place off-screen (e.g. kissing, sex) than they have erasing scenarios that they've already seen in canon (e.g., if someone wished they could continue viewing it as an ace relationship but they were shown "hooking up"). Also, while relationships are super emotional and extremely subjective, I'd argue that in a long-term adult partnership, the non-sexual connection is more important than the sexual one. As a fan, I'd prefer to extrapolate "they love each other so maybe they'd have sex" rather than "they're sexually attracted to each other so maybe they'll intertwine their whole existences together."

It probably isn't necessary to add, but I will anyway: I'm aware that Good Omens is sort of sacrificing social leverage - the ability to whack homophobes over the head with canon if they try to deny the show's queerness - and is thus not really contributing to making specifically gay relationships more widely seen and accepted. However, I don't think all stories have to invest heavily in every social issue they touch on for them to still be meaningful. I also do think Good Omens is an excellent example of a relationship that is extremely profound without being heteronormative.

I don't think the next season is going to be a rom-com. It will likely not even be a "love story," where the definition of "love story" is "a story that follows the development of a relationship and employs certain plot beats to make its point." Remember that conflicts and breakups are key to love stories, so if it IS a love story, then we're going to have to watch the relationship get challenged in ways some of us might have thought were already resolved in season 1! And while that could be thrilling and ultimately very good, it would also be likely to undercut some of the careful headcanoning and analysis we've already done. Any sequel is going to do that to some degree, but a second love story would probably do it a lot, with interpretations that people are even more protective of.

I'm sort of thinking the next season is likely to be a fantasy-heavy mystery, only because those are the two concepts Neil's introduction led with - an angel with amnesia who presents Crowley and Aziraphale with a mystery. Crowley and Aziraphale's connection to each other can still absolutely be a major theme! It can still be the thread stitching the plot together! It just probably, in my opinion, won't escalate and escalate and escalate like it did in season 1. And it will probably be woven in there among a lot of other plot threads that are, in many moments, louder. Still, I'd love to be left with the impression of these two existences, the light and the dark, subtly becoming more intimate, subtly growing more comfortable in this shared place they've chosen in the universe, gradually starting to behave like they know they aren't alone in the world anymore, all while other things happen to and around them.

Nonsexual physical intimacy - a really great hug, or leaning together on the sofa, or a forehead touch, or something like those, something that could happen in a lot of different kinds of relationships but is undoubtedly based in deep trust and affection and a desire to be close...that's the dream, for me. Oh, how lovely it would be.

Of course, I could be just absolutely, embarrassingly wrong about all this. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 5 years ago

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Just like any other night

Kanene’s Notes: Sugar! /0/

Spice! \0\

And everything nice! \0/

To create the perfect fluff

But Kanene accidentally (unless...)

Added an extra ingredients to the concoction--

Angst!!

*Explosion*

*Evil crackling*

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Good Omens belongs to the incredible Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett; Aaaand the characters of this fic (and AU) themselves belongs to @10yrsyart

* Read here to know the AU Ducks and Dolphins and click here to see everything cannon about the D+D. It’s f a n t a s t i c! Reaaad! ^w^)s2

* I didn’t really asked a permission by myself, but this post kind of give permission to write about the AU? (I really hope so xDDD), so, if you also want to write about them please don’t be ashamed ! (And give credits, pleaaaase! :D)

* Something around 1.200 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This is not cannon. This idea just came because everytime I thought in a fluff, plots of Az cheering up Crow were all that appeared, soooo I tried to challenge me a little and make the opposite. I hope I managed to demonstrate even a little bit of their personality (and don’t have misunderstanding them) well!

* Fanfic em português brasileiro daqui á pouco Thankys for reading, my lollipops! I hope you enjoy this day! Hug a demon, hug an angel and don’t forget to drink water!! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Aziraphale is calm, stoic, precise, bold, moralistic, firm, direct and ruthless if necessary. He is also sincere, generous, comprehensive, limpid and kind. He is as a pillar, a base. Something concrete, someone who you can lean on for support, trust, belief.

He knows very well how separate his work from his personal life. His feelings from his mind. He is rational, leaded primary by his brain and not-

And n-not-

(Come on. Control your breath. Control yourself. One… two…three…)

In any way, under absolutely no circumstances by his feeli-

(Focus. Focus on something, something, some- a book! Take one of the books. Right. Very well. Focus!)

…

Damn.

His breath came out a little weaker, shaking. He tightened his grip in the fabric of his pants, closing his blue eyes and trying to focus on his own heartbeat, which seemed to reverberate in his dry throat, attempting to correct his breathing with its.

Inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled. Rested his head against the couch, sinking a little deeper into it. Some part of himself was thankful that it was already night, which meant the bookstore were closed and there was no danger of an incident.

There was no danger.

He settled back a little more on the furniture, held the book again, with a little firmer grip than needed as he readjusted it to a more comfortable position where there would be no danger in his thick, warm tears researching its pages, eventually falling and blurring the words of its lovely sentences.

At least it was night, a night just like any other night bathered in a weather of every other nights where there would be no incidents.

“Angel…?”

… Damn.

Crow approached closer to the upright, perfect posed form, seeking his eyes and staring deeply into them, their gold glittering in the night pitch. Az didn’t tried to hide these vulnerable moments, at least not anymore, but neither did he showed them when they became present. His voice came out a little faltering, yet in the calm and characteristic tune he always had.

“Crow, dear, I thought you were already sleeping.”

“I just woke up for a cup of tea.”

They both knew this was a lie, still none of them really mentioned such information when the one with dark hair as the ebony of the night, a night just as any other one, removed the book of his carefully manicured hands and held them for a moment, intertwining their fingers as he got closer enough to finally entwining him in a hug. He loosened the hold for a brief second, only to position the angel’s head on his shoulder, and then tightly hug him again. It was as he was trying to show that nothing, on Earth, Hell or Heaven, would be able to hurt the angel without going over him, first.

It might seemed as any other previous hug, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his pajamas getting gradually wetter and the slight shivers and sniffles that slipped from the mouth of the one with blonde, almost white, hair. His cry was silently, and for a light of moment, Crow remembered his own cry, which could be described as any other, just a bit louder and with rumpled clothes.

He shook lightly his head, focusing in the present, in the possibilities, the sentences and words that would be said after the storm. His mind felt lethargic and yet running in full speed almost at the same time. Crow combed Az’s hair and gave small, but big in meaning, pecks in his neck without even noticing.

The time itself lost meaning in this piece of time.

A hand tapped softly his back and his head slightly lifted. It was the signal to break the touch, and it was promptly obeyed.

“Do you want to talk about this?” His voice was a special whisper, packed, designated and delivered to just only one being in the entire universe.

“There is nothing to be said.” Even with everything, his voice still lacked major flaws or slips. It was made of a calm, sad nature. “It is just…” And the owner of hundreds of books, reader for thousands years and maestro of words ended up losing himself in them.

‘It’s just…’ Crow wondered if even the humans, at some point of their existence, could understand all the feelings and sensations between the lines that this phrase could possess.

Probably.

Everyone does, in some way or another, doesn’t it?

The black-haired never paid much attention to time, especially after such thing already fulfilled its basic function of lead him as far as possible from that particular century. However, this day, he almost could see the sand of hourglass pouring grain-by-grain as he let the angel running his fingers through his hair, pressing his back on the blonde’s sweater and stroking the back of the other’s hand with his thumb. His warmth and presence were the necessary reminders that Az needed to focus on the here, in the Bookstore rocked by this ordinary night, and now, with the best company he could ever wish to be.

A piece more of time was spent. Maybe two, three, and perhaps a little more.

…

“We should go out.”

“What are you rambling about, Crow love? We always go out.”

“No. I mean… for something different! Not just a lunch.”

“A day to just wander, you mean?”

“Maybe.” Shrugged, pondering, his tongue absently wriggling in the ar. Az tightened a bit more the touch, feeling lighter as allowed his mind travel and dance between some possibilities for the future meaning of this conversation. “We should make a picnic!”

“A picnic?’

“Yes! In any place, nearby or far away! We could take the food or milacre it there. I can give you a ride.”

His head turned, his heart floating and expanding when he saw that the trail of tears had faded from his husband’s face, and now the red was also beginning to gradually leave his skin.

Az pondered for a few minutes, eyes gleamming.

“I don’t think I’ve ever married at a picnic before.” Smiled, and part of his soul melted with the beauty in the other’s happy expression, along with the smile that also was painted in the demon’s face, he was absolutely sure.

“Let me tempt you, then.” Crow hissed, carrying on their internal joke, since they, after their last wedding-lunch, decided that from now on there would be no more dates, only weddings.

Az raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful disbelief look. Their foreheads met. The angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a light, which came neither from the stars, cars, poles and nor the living room lamp, little by little filling his being.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” Their eyes met.

“I love you too, my husband.”

Perhaps they had spent some time like this, in silence, enjoying themselves. Perhaps they had slowly moved away right after the talk, holding hands, a warm feeling in their chest. Who really knows? It is a moment only for them, so let it be.

“The preparations should be started, then!” The one with blue limpid eyes, now up, excitedly leaded to the kitchen. “Milacre a massive amount of food certainly would alert your side just as mine, so, I believe the best option we got is cook by our own.”

Crow scowled, which evolved to as annoyed expression as received the lightly incisive and inquisitive look from the other, puffing up his cheeks and deviating the glare as he dispirited followed his steps into the other room.

“Fffffffine.” Gave up of the dream to sleep that night. However, deep inside, he knew worth it just to watch the blonde-haired angel calmly, excited walking his eyes and fingers through the Recipe Books were under his care. Urg. The sacrifices that must be made. “But I’m not using a patterned apron!”

And the cars drove through the streets, the stars hardly glowed in the sky and the worlds kept not an even bit silent during that sunless hours, just as any other night of any other day. Nevertheless, on that store, more specifically a Bookstore, at that moment and for those two, maybe this wasn’t a common night anymore, and would definitely lead to a day not even a little ordinary, either.

A recipe book was open, some bright smiles (maybe trying to help the stars?) too.

“Sure, my dear. I would never…” replied Az, trying to decide which color would most highlight Crow’s duck patterned pajamas.

#Good Omens AU #Ineffable Husbands #Crow #Az #Ducks and Dolphins #fluff and angst #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Angst #They're so lovely <3 #Alternative Universe #Picnic #D+D AU #Oneshot #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Reposting because I'm gonna delete this from my other account #<33

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tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

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Team Titans #21

Team Titans is an anagram for a tit stamen.

In this modern era, anything you say online can eventually come back to haunt you. But back before the Internet existed (or was mostly just drunk assholes and minors in AOL chat rooms), the main thing that could come back to haunt a person was writing into a comic book and asking for a pin-up issue. Sure, I had young person crushes on a few comic book characters. But I never wrote to Mike W. Barr and asked him to write a story where Halo spends most of the issue in her underwear. No, I wrote that letter to Jim Aparo. "Come on, Jim! Just have her coming out of the shower in some scene! I can't prove this yet because it's 1984 but it'll probably become common practice to draw characters in towels getting out of showers when artists like David Finch and Tony S. Daniel become popular! And their renditions of adult women will look even younger than your rendition of Halo!" I find the amount of "Ooh la la"s and "Ha cha cha cha"s I've had to read in the letters pages of The New Titans since they published a swimsuit shot of the women of the Titans incomprehensible. And I'd find it incomprehensible even if that amount were just one. Which it was not. I wouldn't be too flabbergasted if I didn't think mostly grown ass men wrote to comic books. I know kids did too! Take Roy Thomas as an example. But no way are young people the majority of letter writers. Speaking of comic books, I just read Terry Moore's "Five Years" and it pissed me off. Mostly because eight out of the twenty pages were blank. After the first blank page, I thought, "That was a weird choice." But it kind of fit because it was squarely at the point in the narrative where the phi bomb goes off in Katchoo's dream. But then a few pages later, it was a double spread of blank pages. Being a Master Comic Book Reader, I thought, "This can't be right." And it wasn't right! Not at all! Now I have to purchase a new copy so I can see what I missed. And, no, I won't be taking this copy back to the comic book store. It has my greasy fingerprints all over that stupid glossy black cover that Terry Moore insists on doing! Not that I think the store would resell it. But I do know they'd have a great set of my fingerprints to use for nefarious purposes. Or possibly legal purposes that would just get me in trouble. At least "Five Years #1" had blank pages so I knew something was missing. It took me 20 years to finish reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman because I didn't realize there were something like eighteen pages missing from The Kindly Ones trade paperback I own. This issue begins with the U.S. military surveying the damage from the Team Titans battle with Lazarium.

Being that Lazarium was only killing Titans, this means the Team Titans have killed 36 more civilians than Lazarium. Way to go, heroes!

Writer Jeff Jensen didn't have the balls to kill all of the extra Titans in the black hole so he decides to have most of the survivors attack Battalion and the other Titans. Enough comic book readers accept the premise that at least half of the battles in comic books have to be good guy against good guy, no matter how stupid the reason. And the reason doesn't get any stupider than having a bunch of Titans that were just battling alongside Battlion to suddenly decide the only sane reaction to Battalion suggesting they clean up the mess is to shoot Donna Troy in the face. At the very least, it gives Mirage a chance to mention that 500 Titans just died. After coming up with Wonder Boy and Two Gallon Hat and Liquid Joe, Jensen realized he was out of ideas so he just killed most of the others. And yet he seemed so excited to build a new Titans universe with hundreds of new characters! I wonder if he did come up with five hundred characters whose names were even worse than Liquid Joe and Two Gallon Hat, so the editors told him he was fucking crazy if he thought DC was going to use any of them. The Titans seek refuges at the Justice League Embassy in New York. I forgot there was a time when the Justice League forwent their headquarters to run embassies all over the world. Giffen and DeMatteis must have thought there'd be big bureaucratic Marx Brothers type laughs in trying to run an embassy. And I suppose there could have been! Did they ever do a story with some Assange-like villain like Calendar Man or The Riddler seeking asylum from Batman's fists? At the embassy, Donna Troy works out a sweet deal with the government to allow the Titans a life free from being blamed for every little problem that crops up in New York.

Great negotiating, Donna! "Do whatever the government wants or be hunted like vermin!" She's the fucking Trump of the Titans.

The government's deal amounts to the same deal the Team Titans had already accepted in their future life. The government will provide them with basic necessities and education in exchange for working in small military groups united under some mysterious leader. They all jump at the chance to not do anything different with their lives, especially considering that the other option was to be shot on sight whenever they mentioned their stupid names. The government, with the help of gossip reporter Cokie Roberts, concoct a story to cover up the Titans murder of two hundred people. I know it was reported earlier by me that they only killed three dozen non-Titans. But it turns out, according to Cokie and the government, two hundred non-Titans were killed by the black hole. I suppose they're including all of Lazarium's henchmen and also all the people the government killed when they realized they had the perfect excuse to disappear them with the Titans' black hole. It's interesting that nobody worries about all the people killed in the black hole because that was an "accident" and yet everybody loses their minds when they think about Nightrider killing the guy ultimately responsible for it all. Maybe they're all just grossed out that he drank blood.

I'm just going to assume the Wonder Woman look-a-like's name is Frottage Girl.

Mirage feels badly about deceiving the public since she pretended to be Lazarium so that the world wouldn't know the Team Titans killed him. But Cokie Walters is all, "Don't fucking worry about it, slut! The news lies all the time!" I guess when you're a celebrity gossip reporter, you don't really worry too much about journalistic ethics. A proper reporter wouldn't have lied about this story. They would have just interviewed some government agent who would lie about the story and then they'd shrug their shoulders and go, "Well, I guess that's one side of the issue! If only there were somebody who could investigate the story to find out how true it is. I don't know who that would be though. A doctor? Or an astronaut? It's a mystery!" While the Team Titans film another puff piece with Cokie Walters, Donna Troy approaches Wonder Woman with a problem: she wants her powers back.

If the graph of an argument doesn't look like an ouroboros, Donna Troy wants no part of that argument.

Donna wants to petition the Greek Gods to get her powers back and she needs Diana to be her arbiter. Diana says, "You have my support in everything you do," and now I don't know why I'm so aroused.

Maybe it's due to panels like these that I can't help reading out of context.

Donna confronts the Titans, pleading with them to return her powers. But the Gods have a law: "No take backs. Too bad, so sad." So they send her back to Earth where she lands in the yard of Terry Long's ex-wife. She looks in the window and sees a happy family scene starring Terry and his ex-wife and Terry's daughter and their son. She lets her low self-esteem get the better of her and runs away thinking her marriage is probably over before she can hear Terry yell at his ex-wife for being a snarky jerk. So a happy ending for once! Team Titans #21 Rating:: C-. My main question for Marv Wolfman and Jeff Jensen is this: how the fuck did you manage to make a comic book with this much potential so fucking tedious?! Maybe you need to have a teenager's sense of drama to find any enjoyment out of this comic book at all. Killowat loves Mirage but he's a racist and she's all, "No way! Probably! We'll talk!" And Nightrider needs to eat people but he won't so he almost dies but then he eats a person! Donna Troy was happily married until she saw Terry and his ex-wife getting along for five seconds and now their marriage might be over! Battalion constantly calls people cheeseheads and their heads aren't even really made out of cheese! Terra loves Gar but Gar is all, "The boner you give me makes me feel guilty! Go away!" Redwing is all, "Prester Jon, my brother! We can finally hug!" But Prester Jon is all, "Ew! You're gross with the pointy ears and talons and veiny wings! Get away!" Also, what happened to Deathwing? I really hope Mirage dismembered him. Hopefully Jensen will devote a full issue for a flashback of that scene.

#Team Titans #Teen Titans #DC Comics #DC #Comic Book Review

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huilianwrites · 5 years ago

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Armageddon, or Not

Book Title: Good Omens

Author: Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

ISBN: 978-0-06-085398-3

Armageddon has never been more funny. That is a nice and accurate description of this book. We follow the journey of Crowley, a demon who didn’t fall to hell, just sauntered vaguely downwards, and Aziraphale, an angel and part-time rare book dealer. Having spent millinea watching and living with humans, both Crowley and Aziraphale is now tasked to bring about armageddon. They were to raise the Anti-Christ, the son of Lucifer, and to make him be either on Heaven’s side, or Hell’s.

That did not happen as planned. The Antichrist was not the one both Crowley and Aziraphale spent years trying to indoctrinate. He was an eleven-year-old named Adam, who is really, just an eleven-year-old who happen to be the son of Lucifer. Realizing what absolute disaster this is, both Crowley and Aziraphale tried to correct it.

Along the way, Anathema, a descendant of Agnes Nutter, both of them a witch, was trying to decipher Agnes’ prophecies to know where, when, what, and how the end of the world will come to. Newton Pulsifer, a Witchfinder Private who became a witchfinder largely by accident, is trying to do his job when he crossed paths with Anathema, an occurence that of course, Agnes Nutter had prophesied.

Armageddon was coming, like it or not, and the four horsepersons of the apocalypse was riding. Adam, the eleven-year-old Antichrist with his gang of four friends, were just going on their day when Adam turned into the Antichrist he was. Both Crowley and Aziraphale managed to get to the scene before the apocalypse actually happened, through different ways. They managed it in time to see Adam turn away the apocalypse, and helped Adam to stall the apocalypse. See, Adam was not good incarnate, nor was he evil incarnate. He was just human incarnate, and he wanted to stay alive in this earth, thank you very much. Crowley and Aziraphale, who were both quite fond of living amongst humans managed the feat of confusing both the voice of God, and the duke of Hell to convince them to stall the apocalypse. Of course, it couldn’t happen without Newt who managed to ‘fix’ the computer system that is going to cause armageddon. With Anathema watching behind.

General

I may have forgotten several things, as I read this book months ago and only wrote this part now. But from what I can remember, I can confidently say that this book is fantastic (as you might all already know. After all, it was made into a mini-series and everyone was hooked on it). I know a lot of people were focused on the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale, and it is fantastic. One of the best relationships I have read, and one of the best relationships in general (they were ‘together’ for millinea, come on). But let’s look at it another way.

The way the book was written to show that prophecies do not always come true in ways you expect it to be. They will come true, especially the ones from Agnes Nutter, but even though you know they will come true, you won’t be able to guess how precisely they will be true. And it also shows that having this kind of power is a burden, instead of a gift. How would you feel being able to see far into the future, but not knowing the context of what is going on? You’ll feel that burden too.

Still on Agnes Nutter, this book also tells the story about how Anathema goes beyond just being a descendant of someone. I really like the quote, “Do you want to be a descendant for the rest of your life?” Your ancestor might be someone really great, or even your parents might cast their shadows to you, but you must remember that your life is your own, and Anathema really shows how she claimed her life as her own at the end of the book.

Claiming your life, is also another big thing in this book. Adam claimed his life to be more than just an instrument of armageddon. Anathema claimed her life as her own, as I’ve said before. Newton Pulsifer claimed his life to be more than just the Witchfinder Private that he was. And of course, Crowley and Aziraphrale claimed their lives to be more than what Heaven and Hell told them to be.

Besides that, there is also the illustration of man’s free will. How we can use this to our detriment, or use this to our advantage. It was our choice, whether we like it or not. We have to choose. Adam chose to be human, and that choice practically saved all of the world. Everything can be changed by our choices, and that is why we must take care to not just choose the right choices, but to not infringe on other’s choices.

I finished reading this book months ago, and didn’t have the chance to write this review until now, so I’m finishing this off here, with quotes that I love from this book underneath. Thanks!

Quotes

And just when you’d think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger.

Hell wasn’t a major reservoir of evil, any more than Heaven, in Crowley’s opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game.

And precisely because she was a witch, and therefore sensible, she put little faith in protective amulets and spells; she waved it all for a foot-long bread knife which she kept in her belt.

“... You see, Agnes was the worst prophet that’s ever existed. Because she was always right. That’s why the book never sold.”

What the hell. If you had to go, why not go with style?

Sometimes human beings are very much like bees. Bees are fiercely protective of their hive, provided you are outside of it. Once you’re in, the workers sort of assume that it must have been cleared by management and take no notice; various freeloading insects have evolved a mellifluous existence because of this very fact. Humans act the same way.

“Think of it like this,” he said quietly. “Do you want to be a descendant for the rest of your life?”

Then he said: “I don’t see why it matters what is written. Not when it’s about people. It can always be crossed out.”

He couldn’t see why people made such a fuss about people eating their silly old fruit anyway, but life would be a lot less fun if they didn’t. And there never was an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.

#lian writes #book review #good omens #no picture this time #the book is somewhere 20 hours of flight away #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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iamrandomandliketolaugh · 5 years ago

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Good Omens

How does a person make a post that anyone would ever see? Simple. They pick a subject that’s a hot topic right now and make people hate them over it.

Good Omens, as I’m sure almost everyone on Tumblr knows, is the story of a demon, an angel, the antichrist, the apocalypse, and the events thereafter.

Big question: Did I like it?

Short Answer: Yeah.

Long Answer: I liked it but I don’t really understand the hype. It’s an alright book. It’s definitely not the best book I’ve ever read but it’s far from the worst. What I have to wonder is why I wasn’t in love with this novel. I love Neil Gaiman. I’ve read almost all of his other works.

So I must conclude that it is the writing of the late Terry Pratchett that doesn’t do it for me. Now, I know that Pratchett is a beloved writer. I understand that and I would never dispute that. He’s written so many novels that have cultural impact upon society. I have heard that his books have some acerbic commentary on modern society in a fantastical world. Sounds good. But I have have to conclude that it is Pratchett’s fault. According to the Q&A at the end of the book Pratchett had the majority of the writing attributed to himself since he had the only hard copy of the book. So the book was written with his “voice” instead of Gaiman’s.

I enjoy Gaiman’s books, thus I conclude, having never read a Pratchett novel that I am not a fan of Pratchett’s “voice” in comparison to Gaiman’s “voice”. If I read a Pratchett novel in the future this may change. Opinions change. Tumblr can get with the times but that’s a hissy fit for later.

So what do I actually not like about the story? Well, if you listen to the folks they say that this story, this novel, is hilarious. So well written, so funny, you really see the characters, you’ll love it. I’ll agree, it is well written. I did see the characters in my mind. But I didn’t think that it was funny, almost at all. I didn’t laugh at anything. And I was so disappointed about that. I think that my reading was over-hyped in my mind. It’s like when people see a movie trailer and then the movie is so much more mundane than the trailer made it seem.

It’s disappointing but it’s still entertaining. A little dragging, a little bit of hand waving muttering “get on with it” but on the whole more entertaining than boring.

Things I liked:

The interactions between Crowley and Aziraphale.

Adam and the Them. I like stories that emphasize the dichotomy of nature vs. nurture. And this was a great question: What would the antichrist be like if they were raised as a regular child? If they experienced the goods and bads of growing up without any influences other than mortal. Good. Yes. Me likey.

The Crowley/Hell and Aziraphale/Heaven interactions. Also that bit where Aziraphale is jumping from human to human to find one close to England is one of the funny parts. Like, yeah, give them humans that existential horror.

The bikers who followed the horsemen around. Y’all the real MVPs.

Madame Tracy

Things I didn’t like:

The interactions between Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer. There is something in their interactions that could read as the hand of a higher power playing with their fates but it didn’t work for me. I wanted to enjoy their sections but in the end, it was meh. I read it, can I move on now?

The Horseman except for Death. I did like the modernization of the horsemen, they were interesting takes, but still their interactions with each other just didn’t do it to ‘em. I liked them better when they were on their own. Death was the best cause he’s the truth. We can get rid of war, famine, pollution, pestilence, all of that negative shit but you can’t get rid of death.

The whole apocalypse thing as a whole. Vaguely anti climatic but I suppose it was necessary for the story to work as it was meant to be. I mean, yeah, heaven isn’t on our side if it exists, and hell definitely wouldn’t be on our side. But still, not even one description of an abomination of the angelic persuasion showing up. Sigh.

It just wasn’t that funny. I know, I said it before but come on! It was a major selling point of the book and it failed in that regard.

So, what kind of score would I give this book on an arbitrary sliding scale that will inevitably change in some indeterminable point in the future would I give this novel?

6.5-7/10

Would I watch the adaptation?

Yeah. And probably bitch about it too. It’s what I do. It makes me happy.

Would I recommend it?

Probably, like I said. I enjoyed it enough to be entertained. I would warn people I recommend it to that I didn’t think it was funny but still enjoyed it enough. I would want folks to make their own opinion.

I feel like I am one of the few people who didn’t fall down in love with this novel. It’s alright. I’m not going to reread it or anything but it was fun enough I suppose. I’m not going to say anything to anyone who does love it. You do you boo boo.

One last thing: Terry Pratchett is showing his chops for being able to spell Aziraphale the same each time. Jesus, I’ve fucked that name up each time I typed it. It’s not even a classic -iel angel name. That would have been just too easy huh?

#good omens #literature #review #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #fiction #book review

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voicesfromthelight · 5 years ago

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On Free Will, Divination, and Shifting Timelines

I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about the relationship between free will, soul contracts, manifestation, and divination. Not so long ago, when I started doing readings professionally for other people, my spirit guides were fairly reluctant to predict the future, opting instead to focus on patterns going on in people’s present lives. The reason for this was that they were, and still are, adamant about the sanctity of free will, the power of intention, and our ability to mold our futures through them. In light of this, it is perhaps somewhat surprising that a few months ago, for reasons I can only guess at, my channelings began to include mentions of a new guide being assigned to me, whose function was specifically to help me read the future more accurately. Since then, I have noticed a gradual shift in my readings towards including more elements of divination.

The predictions that come through in readings can take a while to manifest in the lives of my clients, who generally only consult with me once or twice, and will therefore usually be given whatever information will serve them best in the long term. Sometimes, the possibility of less auspicious developments is brought up in the interest of helping a client change courses and avoid the suggested outcome. Predictions can also come with a clarification that the events are still taking shape, energetically, and therefore are more likely to change. If a prediction seems too outlandish in light of the client's current reality to be easily assimilated, but is important to be acknowledged, the guides will also sometimes provide evidence of their accuracy by alluding to future events that the client already has planned and is aware of, but I myself have not been informed of before the reading. All in all, everything that is brought through serves the purpose of helping my clients make the best possible decisions, bringing them hope in times of adversity, and healing interpersonal patterns so they can flourish.

The dynamic of readings I do for myself is somewhat different than those done for my clients, and has helped me shed some more light on the way in which free will interacts with the timelines, or trajectories for the future, we set ourselves on with each action we take. Since I talk to my guides daily, I’ve had ample chances to have their predictions confirmed, and get feedback on the shifts in my trajectories almost in real-time. In fact, lately, Salvador, Natalie, and the third, as-of-yet anonymous consciousness have taken upon themselves to regularly guide me through certain situations by describing details of events that then usually unfold over the next couple of days. They often do this in the form of quoting or summarizing conversations in advance, and addressing the ensuing emotional reality along with instructions on how to approach it from the most constructive perspective. While being on the receiving end of this phenomenon, delightful as it is, has been downright bizarre at times - as if I had somehow hacked reality - the wonderful thing about it is that it has helped me anticipate challenging situations, as well as taught me greater patience and compassion. (Perhaps some of you have seen the TV series “Good Omens," based on the work of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, with the book of "nice and accurate prophecies" informing the characters of what is about to happen, down to bafflingly minute detail? Yes, it's a work of brilliant fiction, but that’s actually a bit what my life feels like right now.)

What then, of destiny? Are any of the events in our lives set in stone when we incarnate to this earth?

When we choose to engage in an endeavor, a relationship, an interaction, etc., it can sometimes seem as if certain things that happen have been pre-ordained. I personally believe that we are born with certain encounters that have been planned (soul contracts, if you like), patterns to work through, and purposes to fulfill - or at least something to that effect. However, our ability to create and mold our realities is generally quite broad within this framework. It is how we use this co-creative power in our lives that matters. This is where free will, the choices we make about where to direct our attention, and making decisions based on love rather than fear, come in. For better or worse, we can choose, almost at any time, to take a different path, and delay, repeat or undo elements plotted out for our life experience.

I've come to notice that the shifting of timelines apparent in my personal predictions somewhat paradoxically reinforces what the guides have always said about free will and the malleability of the future. See, when I speak to my guides about upcoming events, the information they bring through will often have both long-term and short-term dimensions to it. However, it's not always easy to tell the difference, as the channelings are filtered through the emotional energy of the moment. Certain shifts that occur in the predictions day-to-day can then seem more final or portentous than they ultimately are. But with each short-term adjustment, the outlook of the long-term trajectory, or timeline, can change. The energy of free will interacting with the world, shaping reality, is constantly in motion.

As a result of this ever-changing energetic transformation, even though the guides will inform me of the long-term trajectories of certain pursuits, the way in which the events play out sometimes seems to contradict what has been said before, only to shift back into alignment with it later on. It seems we have the ability to shift the trajectories we are on amazingly quickly, with each decision we make. The arc that we then perceive as our lives unfold is all a matter of perspective: We can measure our experiences in moments, days, weeks, etc. as we choose, kind of like following a graph showing fluctuations in the stock market over a shorter or longer period of time (if you'll pardon the humdrum comparison).

As a practical example (which must nonetheless be kept somewhat abstract to protect privacy), I recently found myself in a situation in which I was navigating a somewhat volatile relationship with both personal and professional aspects to it. The resulting dynamics were throwing me for a loop. Thus, I found myself often checking in with my guides to make sure I was approaching each development appropriately. Their advice wasn’t always what I expected it to be, nor did we always agree on what exactly was going on, but they never failed to guide me to the best possible results. They seemed to have their own explanations for the higher purpose of our collaboration, and where it was leading, which trumped any superficial changes in the relationship. They assured me all would ultimately be well.

At one point, things came to a bit of a head, and I found myself in a rather heated conflict with this person. Up until then, the guides’ advice had always been to focus on patience with a positive outlook, and to simply ignore any negativity, keeping the long-term picture in mind. But at that moment, I felt I had no choice but to stand up for myself and walk away. Over the course of the previous few days, the tone of the guides’ predictions had suddenly shifted, as if our “plans” - possibly those written into a soul contract - were being canceled, and now, they seemed to be saying, “Put an end to it. Move on.” I felt disappointed. As an empath, my personal boundaries tend to be a little mushier than they should be, and putting my foot down felt uncomfortable. However, I pushed myself, and did what needed to be done, thinking: “Well, that’s it. So much for that project. What a let-down!”

After the ensuing quarrel, I sat down to meditate, feeling sad and frustrated. I decided to spend a while praying for healing and going through the Ho’oponopono process, hoping to dissolve the conflict. As I then shifted my consciousness into channeling mode, I felt an intense physical warmth and gradually strengthening sense of well-being, as if I had more guides around me than usual. When they then came through, they informed me that everything was back on track, and I now had good things to look forward to in the collaboration again. Salvador cheered me on, saying I had learned an important lesson about how to use my anger constructively. Natalie, who has taken to opening channeling sessions with an introductory sentence that always begins with the word, “enjoy,” started this one by saying: “Enjoy studying trouble!” - the implication being that the most important lesson of the day was to understand new spiritual truths around dissolving conflict.

As it turned out, the guides were right. The honest expression of my anger triggered an energetic shift that led to a reconciliation and set us back on course.

Now, whether the guides knew this dramatic course-correction would happen all along, or I had, in fact, shifted long-term timelines with different outcomes several times, is not quite clear to me. Perhaps the frequency of my personal readings had merely created a situation in which I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. What I do know is that a very quick, unexpected shift for the better happened in the trajectory the guides were describing, after I changed my response to certain patterns in the interaction. The prayers and meditations played no small part in this energetic transformation, I think, and working with my guides helped me to understand first-hand just how powerful the process could be.

So, in conclusion, I offer you this. While it is possible to predict the probable future, especially in the short term, if we are not happy with what is being created, we should never feel powerless to shift courses, even if we feel we have to do so on a dime. What future would you like to create for yourself today? Think it, see it, feel it, create it!

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dazedandinked · 6 years ago

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Bad man, sad man - (Chapter 2/2)

Chapter 1: https://dazedandinked.tumblr.com/post/183189058536/bad-man-sad-man-chapter-12

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984987/chapters/42482834

Fandoms: Peaky Blinders (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Additional tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Season 3 Spoilers, Mentioned Character Death, Strangers to Friends, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

Chapter summary:

Many other nights followed that first drink at the Garrison. Crowley had the chance to meet the Shelby family and to share small little secrets with Tommy.

But all the good things in life come to an end.

A/N: So here it is! I know this work is quite short but maybe there'll be more of this odd crossover in the future.

You can find it on

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984987/chapters/42762287

Chapter 2: But my dreams they aren't this empty

Many other nights followed that first drink at the Garrison. Sometimes they met in Birmingham, sometimes in London where Tommy had business with Mr. Solomons (another odd man Crowley had the not-pleasure to meet.) Sometimes he visited Tommy at his house or in Watery Lane, therefore he had the chance to meet the Shelby family.

They were friends, somehow, and this was something new to both of them. Crowley have always had nothing but Aziraphale and their weird, century-old friendship (because it wasn't just an alliance anymore); Tommy had his noisy extended family, but he couldn't really say he had a friend since Freddie Thorne, and things got complicated after the war.

During their evenings they drank, smoked and talked, a lot. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Ada or Polly and, after a while, Crowley found himself quite enjoying their company as well. He liked discussing communist principles with Ada (something the world thought coming straight from hell) and talking about religion and occultism with Polly. They were sharp and clever, obviously the force holding the family and the business together. He couldn't understand why men were so convinced of their gender supremacy. Really.

And then, there were his brothers.

In Crowley’s eyes, the Shelby siblings were basically a heap of angst, rage and cheekbones. Nevertheless, he could understand why ordinary people were so respectful towards them. Arthur a crazy horse, wrecked to the core but still trying to pull his shit together; John didn’t seem to know what to do half of the time (but fortunately he had Esme, helping him the other half); Finn was just a kid trying to act like his elder brothers.

Last but not least Michael, their cousin: secure and restrained on the outside, scared and full of doubts on the inside. A bit like Tommy, Crowley thought after talking to him for a while.

With the right amount of alcool in their blood, they shared many bits of their private lives: Tommy talked about Grace and Charlie, about the war and his nightmares, and Crowley rambled too many things about himself and, sometimes, about Aziraphale. He vaguely remembers mentioning the fact that he had met Byron in person, and that he was a pompous haughty arse.

But they had some kind of agreement on not talking about work and business.

"It's not a matter of trust,” Tommy explained once, "it's just tha-- I prefer leaving all that stuff at the office, whenever I can.”

And they never discussed about Crowley always wearing sunglasses and the yellow eyes Tommy was sure they were covering. A trick of lights, the man said to himself, or some kind of disease. Or maybe he just preferred ignorance for once in his life.

***

Months passed, with more meetings and dinners, but Crowley and Aziraphale never talked about this Tommy-thing properly. After all the time they’ve known each other, it was nice to still have a secret just for himself. And besides, although Crowley would never admit it, he was a bit nervous about the angel’s opinion on the matter.

He mentioned Tommy once or twice during their conversations, elegantly avoiding every subtle question and curious glance, until Aziraphale decided to bring all this secrecy to an end.

The topic casually popped out during one of their long strolls in St. James, while they were planning one of their usual dinners.

“Oh, not Friday, sorry. Going to Birmingham.”

“Again? Really?” Aziraphale asked, his voice high pitched.

“What, are you jealous?” Crowley sniped back with a smirk on his face.

“Of course not!” Liar, the demon thought. The angel frowned, recollecting his thoughts while feeding the ducks.

“It’s just— I’m a bit surprised. I know you enjoy some human things but, you’ve never shown affection to humankind.”

“I’m a demon, I think it’s normal,” he shrugged, trying to hide himself behind his glasses.

Aziraphale chuckled, the sound of small bells coming from his mouth. “Please, dear, we both know you are not… conventional. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing. This Thomas, he must be something if you’re so fond of him.” He threw the last piece of bread into the pond and they started walking again, side by side.

“I don’t think fondness is the right word. He needed help, I did my black magic thing. End of the story.”

“Because you’re a very diligent demon, of course,” the angel said wryly and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I helped him because — I don’t even know. But his voice was so clear, his pain so real that I couldn’t help following it,” he finally admitted.

Then Aziraphale did something Crowley didn’t expect, at all. He put his hand on the demon’s arm, squeezing slightly. Physical contact was a line they crossed only for special occasion. Crowley looked at him with wide eyes and the angel withdrew his hand immediately, blushing under all the tiny freckles on his cheeks.

Aziraphale sighed. “You did something nice, it must have felt good. I can’t even remember the last time I interacted with a human being like this. Just small things to help them, our duty is to keep balance, they said.

He looked really sad and Crowley hated it with all of his heart. Melancholy didn’t look good on that pretty face. Maybe this could sound like a stereotype, but Aziraphale have always been the one good at comforting. Crowley didn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, but he would definitely make an attempt to swipe that gloomy expression away.

Stupid Archangels who give stupid orders.

“We’ve got plenty of time to fix that. What I’ve done, it was anything special. Just answer a call or two, there are so many humans that need a guardian angel”, and he gave him what was supposed to be a warm and reassuring smile (like Aziraphale would do), but that probably looked more like a crooked grin. But the angel deeply appreciated it anyway.

“Unless you are so scrupulous you want to stick to Heaven’s rules,” Crowley said amused, finally managing to get a small smile out of Aziraphale.

“Oh and, by the way, I’m not sure you’d define helping Tommy as the right choice,” he added. “He’s kind of a gangster, who knows what kind of dangerous shady business he—,”

“What?!” Aziraphale looked at him in disbelief, “You mean, the first time you take an interest in mankind ever, it is because of a dejected gangster?!” and his voice high pitched again.

Aw, Crowley thought, that’s my finicky boy.

“Are you surprised? Really? I’m not a saint and I don’t do charity. I like humans with a moral sense as twisted as mine,” he sneered.

Crowley walked away, leaving Aziraphale behind. He didn’t need to see his face to know it was red with disapproval and indignation.

“Oh, Crowley, I can’t believe it! Yo— you’re—”

“Fabulous? I know, Angel. And please don’t judge him from his job. Now, you have centuries of helping old ladies with their bags to catch up with. Chop chop!”

***

But all the good things in life come to an end, like a bottle of fine whiskey. This thought strikes Crowley’s mind every time, even though he should have learnt the lesson by now.

The day Tommy died, he got a call from Ada. He could hear the light tremble in her voice.

“I thought you might like to know,” she just said. He got all the details about the funeral and hung up the phone.

He knew that day would come since the beginning. Tommy was just a man, after all. No matter how long his life would last, it wouldn’t have been enough.

Crowley kept himself busy for the couple of days before the funeral. He had to make calls, meet people and ask for favors. He also asked Aziraphale for help, hushing him before he could start rambling about feelings and grief, forcing a cup of tea in his cold hands.

The price was high but, in the end, he had what he wanted.

It’s a nice place for a funeral, Crowley thought stepping out his car. He gazed at the thin line where the green fields met the sky. A small group of people, all dressed in black, was gathering slowly around a wooden cart. He stayed away from them, watching Tommy’s family crying and giving their farewell. Only Ada spotted him; she waved at him sheepishly, grabbing Karl’s shoulder with the other hand.

Tommy was watching them too, sitting on a fallen trunk beside the cart. His face was calm as usual, not even blinking when he noticed Crowley staring right at him.

“You dont’ look surprised to see me,” the demon said mildly amused, and sat next to him.

“I suppose not,” Tommy answered like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Always the most unpredictable, and for the first time he didn’t avoid thinking about how much he’d have missed him.

Tommy asked for a last cigarette together and Crowley made them appear. They just stayed there, smoking in silence. At some point, Crowley took his sunglasses off, finally giving his friend a full sight of his yellow snaky eyes. Tommy huffed a smile.

“They look… appropriate on you,” and the demon couldn’t help laughing.

But then the man sighed heavily. “Do I need to leave immediately? And will— will you take me there?”

“I will, but there’s no hurry. We can go whenever you’re ready”

Tommy nodded in acknowledgment.

They sat there for a while longer, watching the cart burning slowly. He inhaled the last breath of his cigarette and stood up, giving a last glance at his family.

“Keep an eye on them, on Charlie, would you?”

Of course he wasn’t the right creature for something like that, but he decided to indulge his friend’s last wish.

“I’ll try,” and he put his pale hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

They looked at each other, a tiny smile on their faces, and then they vanished into thin air.

***

Many years later, Crowley was hurrying across the streets of London when he stumbled across a small handmade hat shop. Between sharp top hats and bowlers, he noticed a grey flat cap in the right corner of the shop window. The demon crossed the door wearing his most amiable smile, bought the hat and left in a few minutes.

He kept it in a small box at the top of his closet and, sometimes, he wore it just to remember.

(And Aziraphale never stopped joking tenderly about it.)

#good omens #Peaky Blinders #Fanart #fanfiction #CrossOver #crowley #Tommy Shelby #aziraphale #good omens fic #peaky blinders fic #my artwork

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mystarsforanempire · 7 years ago

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meta: GODHOOD & ITS EFFECTS

mmm, u can reblog this if u wanna, but @ other gods & divine figures, you don’t necessarily have to Buy Into this concept, this is just what i run with on this blog and with any other figures i write that have ascended to godhood (e.g. like, hades and other greek figures)

i’m gonna try to lay stuff out in simple language that focuses on the sensation of belief and what effect it actually has on those who are Believed In in a literary sense. this bears some similarity to neil gaiman’s + terry pratchett’s concepts of belief in literature but i play with some earthier concepts that are much more based in the telepathic energy + the connection that fosters

this builds on the foundation of my concept of magic within the marvel universe, but to summarize that concept: magic exists throughout the universe, running in rivers across star systems and following, for example, ley lines upon earth while branching outward, kind of like groundwater but in three dimensions. magic is worked by drawing magic into the body (into dedicated “veins”), then running it out along previously laid-out “paths” (spells or rituals) or by utilising a higher telepathic ability to coax the magic into transforming into something else.

2 notes:

- the word “god” is used to refer to BEACONS OF BELIEF, but the beacon may not be a god. faerie, demon, angel and other spirits affected by the ebbs and flows of belief (vague or not) could be transplanted into this consideration, but on a lesser scale. based on my own philosophy i would argue that a “spirit” is something that comes into form/being as a result of belief rather than ascending to godhood post-belief but honestly, that’s flexible

- this is really long and i’m trying to lay stuff out in relatively plain language for both my own understanding when i read back but also so people can Get Me, but totally feel free to shoot me questions about this because it’s like philosophy in that it’s vaguely scientific sounding bullshit, but can also seem simple to one person and really complex to another from the same angle!

strap urself in and hold onto ur tits, it’s time for ABSTRACT DISCUSSION OF BELIEF AS A MANIFESTATION OF TELEPATHIC ENERGY THAT CAN HAVE A PHYSIOLOGICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL EFFECT ON THOSE THAT ENTER INTO ITS COVENANT

WHERE DO GODS BEGIN?

the vast majority of gods exist before they are believed in. that is to say, they start off as figures usually a different species to those they are then worshiped by (although this is not always the case), and then, through a natural process of ingratiation, which becomes demonisation and/or idealisation, which becomes worship.

not all beings can become gods, and very specific yet often incalcuable specifications must be met. the difference between non-god and god can occur within the space of seconds, and the elevation comes suddenly and impermeably: it is difficult to reverse.

one ascends to godhood by starting off as a figure of renown and high consideration: for some reason, the peoples that look up to them consider themselves separate. this might start off as a separation of class (either with firm boundaries, such as a huge difference in social class, or something like extremely remarkable appearance/personality), then becomes something which is GIVEN AND TAKEN between the god-to-be and their worshipers.

a god of beauty begins as a figure of renown, to be looked upon with desire and delight: there comes a tipping point where the admirers become worshipers, and the god-to-be allows and welcomes the worship. a goddess of fertility may begin as a mother, but might then render advice or assistance (with magic or otherwise), and then become a figure to be admired... then worshiped. a figure of fire may be feared, even demonized, but then comes the tipping point: this god may be worshiped simply to appease.

make no mistake: when one enters GODHOOD, a covenant is made. the very spirit of that god becomes imbued with power (if they did not have it before) over their sphere of specialty, although these powers can be unreliable and patchy in places, depending on the extent to which different elements of the figure are worshiped. in the matter of apollo, for example, different devotees would examine him differently across the dozens of states in what we refer to as “ancient greece”, and subsequently that would have an effect on how absolute his power would be over particular subjects, perhaps even changing based on his closeness (telepathically, not geographically) to specific groups of devotees.

does this all sound vague??? does it all sound complicated? GOOD. no one sets out to be a god, not at first. and when it comes, it comes all at once.

WHAT POWER COMPELS THE GODS?

BASICALLY, it’s telepathic energy. if magic runs in natural rivers throughout the universe, being worked into grooves when spells are used, the channel of telepathic power that runs between god and believer is a groove in its own right. just as the telepathic command of a sorcerer affects the magic to change and become something else, this telepathic energy will affect the very being of the god.

this does not mean a god is controlled by their worshipers. the very nature of belief is flimsy and yet stark and block-like in the psyches of believers: belief is tended to subtle change from one worshiper to another, meaning that when many thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, or billions believe in a god, they will be different to how they would be if few people believed in them.

a million believers may believe in some key elements, but others may be subject to change, meaning that the god figure will become blurred at the edges, will have hazy elements where something might be simultaneously true and not true. at the zenith of worship, a god’s memories (and vision of the future, which ill get onto in a minute) will be subject to what its worshipers believe of them, including their base personality, their powers & specialist knowledge & their connections to others.

this state of being, from the belief alone, is confusing and frenetic for some gods, peaceful and calm for others. it depends entirely on what others expect of them.

WHAT OF SACRIFICE & RITUAL?

energy becomes energy becomes energy: it is a fact of the universe that energy cannot be conjured from nowhere... but it can be conjured from magic. magic, in fact, is a universal lubricant that will serve to allow ONE THING to become another. what does this mean when it comes to ritual?

well, a sacrifice made up for a god is an offer of 2 things: telepathic energy (which in big enough quantities will undoubtedly affect, for example, the power at a god’s disposal and even their latent energy, such as their lifespan) and a GIFT, whether that gift exists in manifestable object/energy (e.g. offering a morsel of food, a sacrifice of meat + life energy, offering a pretty gem) or whether it is representative (e.g. offering a god your artistic thoughts, your dreams, your anger)

so like, this defo applies to loki and the other norse gods of my canon where i envision them as like, feral things at the zenith of belief in them. and that feralness is coming from the fact that you have a lot of people who are full to the brim with energy believing in them (and thus affecting them with similar energy), but also the nature of the sacrifices themselves.

at the very high point of their worship, loki, thor and the other gods had continuously full mouths. full of blood, of half-cooked flesh, of wine; their minds would be full to the brim with prayers and wishes, askances and considerations. it is a deeply chaotic thing, and the minds of gods must become wider and ever full of other things.

even if a god keeps up a concentration, settling upon their own lives rather than on the lives of their worshipers, that energy is constant upon them: it is difficult and sometimes painful for a god to turn down a sacrifice or an offer of worship, and it comes with its own psychological costs.

DESTINY & BELIEF

Magic flows like a river through everything - this includes time itself. although not everything is set in stone, the gods exist along a frame where some parts of the future are destined, are foretold, will inevitably occur.

some of these things are just natural aspects of destiny, but others are more centred to gods in that...

if all your worshipers know the story of the way you are killed, the way you will be killed, the way you were killed, that is probably how you will die. that telepathic energy affects magic, which will affect time itself, and thus destiny. what is destiny but foreknowledge?

and here’s the tricky part. i know that i said before “individuals become gods” and that that’s a kind of ephemeral process, difficult to imagine, except... magic knows what time doesn’t. if you are going to become a god in the future, retroactively you ARE a god now, and you were always a god, and you will always be a god, even when the only person still believing in you is yourself. fun, huh?

so that complex bit of mental gymnastics aside, i want to talk about a concept that’s very central to my portrayal of loki, and that’s FUTURE PAINS. so, imagine it: loki’s like, the equivalent of eight years old, and during a lull in the evening’s activities, when the sun is setting and the magic is flowing a certain way, he lets out a sound of pain, and clasps at his mouth. there is no wound there, and yet he knows that there is a wound, that there will be a wound, that there always was a wound. if he really concentrates, he feels the scars between his lower and upper lips, and if he really concentrates, he can feel the needle that will make them, that is making them, that will have made them.

because of the stream of belief that follows a god in every direction, the scars and the main events they’ll undergo are kind of accessible from all angles, regardless of where they are in the course of their own life: this means that a god will almost always know, on some level (likely deep in their unconscious mind) how they will die. think of it as an eternal sensation of déja vu that you effectively train yourself to ignore, simply to stop yourself going entirely mad.

WHEN IS A GOD NO LONGER A GOD?

when they die.

(and even then, it’s flexible.)

#t; okay to reblog #meta #listen this is dense af #BUT I PROMISE IT'S INTERESTING ONCE YOU START THINKING ABOUT IT #t; headcanon #c; superior self | loki #t; meta #LISTEN TALK 2 ME ABOUT THIS 'CAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF.... considerations

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northcountryprimitive · 5 years ago

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From Celestial Explosion to Hallowed Ground: Don Bikoff in His Own Words

This originally appeared at North Country Primitive on 23rd April 2016

I like these American Primitive guitarists who have been around the block a few times. They plough their own furrow, and long may they continue to do so. Case in point: I sent Don Bikoff a bunch of interview questions. He decided to ignore them completely and instead sent me back an essay - a mini-biography, as it were. I mulled it over for a while, wondering whether to edit the hell out of it and squeeze it kicking and screaming into some sort of Q&A format. No, I concluded. This is how it should be read - and it’s far more entertaining a prospect for it. You may know Don for his Celestial Explosion, that great lost fingerstyle album from 1968, reissued a couple of years back by the ever-dependable Tompkins Square Records. That’s far from the whole story, though - he has been a busy man these last few years. There’s the session he did for WFMU Radio back 2012, now available via the Free Music Archive. There’s a further session for Folkadelphia that you can download via their Bandcamp page. Then, in 2014, he released his first new album in over 45 years, Hallowed Ground. It’s an album you should hear. Even after this, Don isn’t standing still - he’s currently recording duo material with Mark Fosson, and rumour has it that these two venerable elder statesmen of fingerstyle are sparking off each other in a most edifying manner. The working title of the forthcoming album is Old Man Noises, and on the basis of the yet-to-be-mixed bits and pieces I’ve had the pleasure of hearing, it’s one to look out for. Over to you, Don…

I began playing guitar around 1959 or 1960, motivated by listening to Allen Freed under the bed covers ever since I was six years old. I had a great collection of various pomades that froze my hair better than Gorilla Glue to simulate that Elvis look. Early AM radio rock came in, with a good smattering of southern blues - on a good night the stations be heard from quite a long way away. Nonetheless, I coerced my father into buying me a guitar at age twelve: I still remember that Harmony F-hole red and black sunburst six-string. He insisted, however, that I take lessons. Let’s just say that Mel Bay and I did not see eye-to-eye and the lessons were short-lived, to say the least. To backtrack a bit, my first public performance consisted of an accordion tune for my second grade class, followed by some trumpeting through to the sixth grade. Grade eight led to the formation of Donny and the Tornadoes, my early cover band, playing Beach Boys and other top of the pops tunes. At around fifteen years of age, I came to the conclusion that some guitarists were actually using their fingers rather than a plectrum. Perhaps it was Pete Seeger and my Weavers albums that led to this revelation. Now it gets a bit more interesting, as I was old enough to pick myself up and travel the Long Island Railroad to NYC and Greenwich Village. This was truly the very beginning of the folk scene and I was privy to performances by such luminaries as Bob Dylan, Dave Van Ronk, Buffy St. Marie and Jose Feliciano - the list goes on and on. One evening, Dave Van Ronk spotted a kid at the front table in the Gaslight Café and castigated him for writing furiously throughout his performance every night. After much embarrassment, he took me aside and allowed me to sit in at the backroom area, where I was treated to all the artists, whom I pestered unmercifully. The die had been cast. As I grew as a young guitarist, I sought out who I considered to be the true masters. I found the recordings of Alan Lomax to be a great help. The folk boom was coming of age and the Newport Folk Festival was in its infancy. I spent afternoons there, often under a tree with Mississippi John Hurt and maybe five or ten people looking on. Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Son House… guitarists playing slide with tableware and steak bones. I was in blues heaven. My own style was beginning to coalesce as a result of my encounters with these great artists. I never heard of John Fahey until a friend from California introduced me to his music and commented that we were somewhat alike. Truly a case of independent discovery on my part… I thought there must be a parallel universe somewhere out there for fingerstyle pickers. As the sixties came and went, I did get to meet Fahey; I still have one of the letters he wrote me. I found Robbie Basho intriguing, along with Peter Walker, Sandy Bull and a host of others. Timothy Leary’s League for Spiritual Discovery on the lower east side of Manhattan had both Peter Walker and I playing for the faithful. So along came an introduction to a record company owner who was looking for new artists for his label, Keyboard Records. I recall going to his office for an unofficial audition of sorts. He chronicled his own success at producing the Firestone Tyre Xmas Album and the Dorman’s Endico Cheese jingle (The first cheese individually wrapped in plastic!). Ed was very enthusiastic about my unique approach to the guitar and said he had an opening for a single album. The previous artist he interviewed simply didn’t excite him. His name was Neil Diamond. Within the next few months in 1968, Celestial Explosion was released and, much to my surprise, garnered great reviews from Record World and other critics. An underground favorite was the phrase often used to describe my music. My brief encounter with a press agent led me to a nationwide TV live performance on the Ted Mack Amateur Hour, where I lost to a Russian gymnastic team and a singing shoemaker. Just search for me on Youtube and you can see it for yourself. Ted said, ‘That’s unusual, to say the least.’ Subsequent years led to performances in Europe and small clubs throughout the U.S. and then reality hit. Family and day jobs happened. But then, 40 years later, Josh Rosenthal of Tomkins Square fame heard me on a local radio show and contacted me. One thing led to another and before I knew it Celestial Explosion was re-released to a new wave of listeners. I released another album just last year, Hallowed Ground, my second in 40 years. I actually have been quite active again by my modest standards. I’m doing a number of folk festivals this Spring: The Montauk Music Festival, Music on the Great South Bay, Hopscotch in Raleigh, NC, The Bing Arts Center in Springfield, Ma, the Glen Cove Folk Festival and who knows what else. I also continue to play at small venues in Brooklyn and Manhattan and on Long Island… Union Pool, Elvis Guesthouse and the Living Room, to name but a few. One of the best things to happen has been my association with Mark Fosson. Mark is both a remarkable player, musician and composer and he and I share a vision of sorts, that enables us to play so well together. We are hoping to release a joint project in the near future.

#don bikoff #american primitive #fingerstyle

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kanene-yaaay · 5 years ago

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A night just as any other

Sugar! /0/

Spice! \0\

And everything nice! \0/

To create the perfect fluff

But Kanene accidentally (unless...)

Added an extra ingredients to the concoction--

Angst!!

*Explosion*

*Evil crackling*

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Thank you all very much for all the support, reblogs, heart and kinds words that you give to me. I can’t call this a christmas gift, but I really hope that you like it and this small oneshot is able to light up your day! ‘w’)s2

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Good Omens belongs to the incredible Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett; Aaaand the characters of this fic (and AU) themselves belongs to @10yrsyart

* Read here to know the AU Ducks and Dolphins and click here to see everything cannon about the D+D. It’s f a n t a s t i c! Reaaad! ^w^)s2

* Something around 1.200 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This is not cannon. This idea just came because everytime I thought in a fluff, just appear plots of Az cheering up Crow, soooo I tried to challenge me a little and make the opposite. I hope I could demonstrate even a little bit of their personality (and don’t have misunderstanding them).

* Fanfic em português brasileiro (Portuguese Version) Thankys for reading, my lollipops! I hope you enjoy this, festive or not, day! Hug a demon, hug an angel and don’t forget to drink water!! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Aziraphale is calm, stoic, precise, bold, moralistic, firm, direct and ruthless if necessary. He is also sincere, generous, comprehensive, limpid and kind. He is as a pillar. A base. Something concrete, someone who you can lean on for support, trust, belief.

He knows very well how separate his work from his personal life. His feelings from his mind. He is rational, leaded primary by his brain and not-

And not ngk-

(Come on. Control your breath. Control yourself. One… two…three…)

In any way, under absolutely no circumstances by his feeli-

(Focus. Focus on something, something, some- a book! Take one of the books. Right. Very well. Focus!)

…

Damn.

There was no danger.

He settled back a little more on the furniture, held the book again, with a little firmer grip than needed as he readjusted it to a more comfortable position and so that there was no danger in his thick, warm tears researching its pages, eventually falling and blurring its words of the lovely sentences.

At least it was night, a night just like any other night with a weather of every other nights, where there would be no incident.

“Angel…?”

… Damn.

Crow approached closer from the upright and perfect pose, seeking his eyes and staring deeply into, the gold glittering in the night pitch, when found them. Az didn’t tried to hide these moments, at least not anymore, but neither did he show its when they became present. His voice came out a little faltering, yet in the calm and characteristic tune he always had.

“Crow, dear, I thought you were already sleeping.”

“I just woke up. I came for a cup of tea.”

Both knew this was a lie, still none of them really mentioned such information when the one with dark hair as the ebony of the night, a night just as any other one, removed the book of his carefully manicured hands and held them for a moment, intertwining their fingers as he got closer enough to finally entwining him in a hug. Separated the hold for a brief second, only to position the angel’s head on his shoulder, and then tightly hug him. As if he tried to show that, nothing, on Earth, Hell or Heaven, would be able to hit him without going over him, first.

It might seemed as any other previous hug, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his pajamas getting gradually wetter and the slight shivers and sniffles that let out the mouth of the one with blonde, almost white, hair. His cry was silently, and for a light of moment, Crow remembered his own cry, which could be described as any other, just a bit louder and with rumpled clothes.

Shook lightly his head, focusing in the present, in the possibilities, the sentences and words that would say after the storm. His mind felt lethargic and yet running in full speed almost at the same time. Combing Az’s hair and gave small, but big in meaning, pecks in his neck without even noticing.

The time lost meaning in this piece of time.

A hand tapped softly his back and the head slightly lifted. It was the signal to break the touch, and it was promptly obeyed.

“Do you want to talk about this?” His voice was a special whisper, packed, designated and delivered to just one being in the entire universe.

“There is nothing to be said.” Even with everything, his voice still lacking major flaws or slips, it was of a calm, sad nature. “It is just…” And the owner of hundreds of books, reader for thousands years and maestro of words ended up losing himself in them.

‘It’s just…’ Crow wondered if even the humans, at some point of their existence, could understand all the feelings and sensations between the lines that this phrase could possess.

Probably.

Everyone does, in some way or another, doesn’t it?

A piece more of time was spent. Maybe two, three, and perhaps a little more.

…

“We should go out.”

“What are you rambling about, Crow love? We always go out.”

“No. I mean… for something different! Not just a lunch.”

“A day to wander, you mean?”

“Maybe.” Shrugged, pondering, the tongue absently wriggling in the ar. Az tightened a bit more the touch, feeling lighter as allow his mind travel and dance between some possibilities for the future meaning of this conversation. “We should make a picnic!”

“A picnic?’

“Yes! In any place, nearby or far away! We could take the food or milacre there. I can give you a ride.”

His head turned, his heart floating and expanding when he saw that the trail of tears had faded from his husband’s face, and now the red was also beginning to gradually leave his skin.

Az pondered for a few minutes, eyes glomming.

“Let me tempt you, then.” Crow hissed, carrying on their internal joke, since they, after their last wedding-lunch, decided that from now on there would be no more dates, only weddings.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” Their eyes met.

“I love you, my husband.”

A recipe book was open, some bright smiles (maybe trying to help the stars?) too.

“Sure, my dear. I would never…” replied Az, trying to decide which color would most highlight Crow’s duck patterned pajamas.

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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Anfernee Simons is Portland’s golden ticket into NBA title contention

Elevating a nice team into title contention despite barely playing as a rookie? That’s just another way for this gifted 20-year-old to push his own limits.

Anfernee Simons isn’t allowed to try his most impressive shot in an NBA game. It’s a form of basketball sorcery few can process, let alone immediately master, that first emerged when he was a senior at Edgewater High School playing H-O-R-S-E against his head coach Jason Atherton.

The two challenged each other after practice and during gym class. H-O-R-S-E provided an opportunity for Simons to test himself by showing off a bold menu of trick shots, while placating a competitive spirit that turned every contest into a life-or-death event.

Dunks weren’t allowed, so Simons dealt letters with his limitless range, firing from the overlapping volleyball court that approximated an NBA three, or behind an arbitrary black line drawn nearly 40 feet from the rim. (Simons later asked Atherton, if he could shoot it during a game. “I told him if I call out ‘Black’, go ahead and fire it,” Atherton says. The coach finally granted permission on senior night.)

Simons enjoyed exploring his own limitations, which remain untapped. This is how The Shot was born. Imagine the deepest corner three possible, tucked a couple feet behind the NBA’s line. Now step over the baseline, out of bounds and behind the backboard. Impossible, right? Simons calls it his “safe shot.” Basic geometry politely disagrees.

The first time Atherton saw it, he wondered if Simons had secretly spent hours practicing on his own time. Nope. It was improvised.

Simons made the shot on his first try, then again when Atherton dared him to repeat it. According to his coach, in all the games they played together Simons drilled this exact shot at an 80 percent clip. “The first couple times I shot it, I’m like ‘I don’t know how the hell you’re doing this!” Atherton laughs. “He’s comfortable no matter where he is.”

Back then, Simons was a prodigious teenage question mark who barely weighed 160 pounds. Today, he’s a 20-year-old wildfire of natural talent entering his second season with the Portland Trail Blazers. It’s a season prefaced by towering expectations. As a rookie, Simons gave the team several reasons to be excited. But it’s his innate ability to make a complicated game look like a cakewalk that separates him from so many other young guards.

“The thing I’m most excited about is how easily the game comes to him,” Blazers general manager Neil Olshey says. “It’s very hard to put guys on the court that can’t score, and it’s something that comes very natural for him. It’s easy for him.”

Everything about him is casual, but Simons meets challenges imposed by coaches, opposing players, parents, and especially himself, with the restlessness of a master chef restricted to boiling hot dogs. “Some of the shots that are tough shots, he doesn’t make them look tough,” Trail Blazers head coach Terry Stotts says. “When he drives in the lane, there’s just an easiness to it.”

Simons can score at the rim, from mid-range, and behind the three-point line, but his outside shot is his calling card. It starts with wrists that make opponents feel like reality is in fast forward. One second, the defenders are crouched in a sound stance, arms out, feet staggered, and jumpy. The next, they’re yolk in a skillet.

“When I was young I’d just push the ball up. It was one motion,” Simons says, describing his unique jumper. “Usually when guys get older they make it two motions, so I kind of kept it as one motion and it’s still working out.”

Simons’ skillset is lined with cashmere. He says he models his game after Jamal Crawford, with a hint of teammate Damian Lillard’s aggressive mindset. Justin Zormelo, a private skills trainer who works with Simons, says Lillard is a fair comparison, but also recognizes Klay Thompson’s sense of calm. “I think if you combined [Dame and Klay] that’s who he is,” Zormelo says. “A rough draft copy of those two guys.”

The Blazers knew it’d be hard for any rookie to crack their rotation in 2019. They finished the previous season with 49 wins and one of the league’s deepest, most expensive rosters. “Risk tolerant” was how they viewed their draft strategy. Selected with the No. 24 pick in the 2018 NBA Draft, Simons only played 141 minutes during his entire rookie season, patiently waiting for garbage time to show what he could do while Lillard, CJ McCollum, and Jusuf Nurkic lifted the Blazers to another No. 3 seed.

“I think when his career is over, they’re all gonna say, ‘Where was he picked?!’” -Rick Pitino

Riding the bench wasn’t easy, but Olshey constantly reminded Simons he was a lottery talent who didn’t play for a lottery team. The opportunity to learn from one of the league’s best backcourts would pay dividends in the future.

“One of the things Dame and I talk to him about is his pace. I always tell him ‘You don’t have to go 100. Find your 80, find your 75 at first, and then progressively speed it up’,” McCollum says. “He’s got the total package, man. He’s 20 years old, not even old enough to drink.”

Olshey recently called Simons the most gifted player he’s ever drafted, a list that includes Lillard, McCollum, Blake Griffin, and several more notable names.

“He is not currently the best basketball player I drafted. He’s not the most functional player that I drafted at the time of the draft,” Olshey says. “But just in terms of his natural gifts at his age, and his God-given talent, it rivals anybody else that I’ve drafted in my career. Now, I don’t know if he’ll reach that ceiling as a player and put it all together, but the things that you basically can’t teach, in terms of just intrinsic talent, he has.”

With one of the highest payrolls in the league, the Blazers need low-cost production to elevate their established starpower. That not only makes Simons one of the most important people in the organization, but, given how open the league’s title race appears to be, he’s also one of the most essential young players in the entire NBA.

How soon can Simons bloom into the necessary source of internal growth the Blazers need to achieve their ultimate goal? Is he their golden ticket, or a tantalizing project that can’t live up to expectations? That development is caked into their short-term future as much as the long haul.

Photo by Chris Elise/NBAE via Getty Images

Anfernee Simons during his 35-point breakout performance at the NBA Summer League. “He’s as talented as anyone we’ve ever drafted,” Blazers GM Neil Olshey said.

It’s an early July morning in Las Vegas as Simons sits on a beige couch in the Four Seasons lobby. A matted flat-top adds five or six inches to his willowy 6’3 frame. He leans forward and folds his arms.

Those who know Simons sum up his personality with words like “shy” or “extremely quiet,” followed by “humble” and “polite.” They’re not wrong. Minus the retro concords and baby face, he could pass for a member of the Queen’s Guard. Limp eyelids rest above lips that don’t budge unless they must, and when they do, his voice carries only a brief hush. No handlers, coaches, trainers, brothers, sisters, cousins, teammates, childhood friends, or agents stand to the side. Instead, Simons is escorted into the lobby by his parents.

“If you didn’t know who Anfernee was, you’d have no idea that he’s one of the best basketball players in the world,” Atherton says. “That’s just kind of how he carries himself.”

Early last season, McCollum was tired of seeing Simons and fellow Blazers rookie Gary Trent Jr. wear cut-up jeans to games. He arranged for Antar Levar, McCollum’s clothier, to measure them for custom suits. Simons eventually settled on blue, gray, and glen plaid super 130’s from Cacciopoli, but the process wasn’t easy. Levar, who works with nearly 150 professional athletes and celebrities, was caught off guard by Simons’ extreme reticence.

“It was like pulling teeth out of a baby trying to get him to speak!” Levar laughs. “When I would show him stuff, he would barely be like yes or no. He’d be real subtle, real quiet, like ‘Nah, nah, nah,’ and then he’d say ‘Yeah, I like that. Nah, nah, nah.’’ It was real quick, and I was like, man, this guy, he’s not gonna say nothing!”

McCollum chuckles telling his version of the story: “Like they say, you’ve got two eyes, two ears, and one mouth for a reason.”

The Player Empowerment Era is wrapped inside a generation defined by self-promotion, but Simons is unassuming in a way that’s far from performative. He seems uncomfortable answering questions about himself, unsure how much to reveal or whether any of it is actually interesting. He doesn’t watch League Pass “unless there’s a good game on.” He’s content with a monotonous life pervaded by Marvel movies (Captain America: Civil War is his favorite), and video games.

Simons understands the importance of making new connections, but opening up takes time. Before his professional career began, Simons’ father Charles couldn’t remember seeing him chat and laugh with teammates on the bench. “He’s not a talker by nature,” Charles Simons says.

Perennial silence is not a deal breaker for NBA stars (see Leonard, Kawhi), but coaches throughout Simons’ life have tried to draw him out of his shell with unique leadership opportunities. At IMG Academy, where Simons spent a post-graduate year after high school, he handled the ball in critical situations and also collected his teammate’s uniforms after games. Even after he broke his hand in early October, Simons still participated in every conditioning exercise instructed by the coaching staff. Whether it was a grueling suicide drill or a simple down-and-back, he obsessed over finishing first and setting an example.

“We put him in positions where he has to deal with people, step up, and hold himself accountable,” IMG Academy’s post-grad head coach John Rhodes says. “You have to start with yourself before you can get others to follow, right?”

Portland’s staff grabbed the baton. The Blazers made Simons their starting Summer League point guard for several developmental reasons, one being it forced him to deal with teammates in ways he hasn’t before. “I still want him to be more assertive and more vocal,” Blazers assistant coach Jim Moran told reporters in Las Vegas. “Running the team, he needs to be more communicative.”

Simons agrees. “I’m used to not saying anything on the court,” he says. “Now it’s more, you’re running the team. You need to make sure everybody is in the same boat.”

Born in a suburb just north of Orlando and named after Magic icon Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway — as a fellow Tennessean, Charles was a fan — Simons could breeze through traffic cones with a live dribble by the time he was five. A family friend who coached one of Florida’s most prominent AAU teams worked him through basic drills. Simons shot on 10-foot rims and always used a regulation-sized NBA ball.

When organized games began two years later, referees allowed the kids to commit violations without penalty. Dribbling was optional for everyone … except Simons. “I was the dad that never let him play like a little kid,” Charles laughs.

Entering his freshman season at Edgewater High School, Simons was a 5’8, 130-pound, 13-year-old paper clip. Continuing a habit that began in the park eight years earlier, he spent two hours after the varsity team’s practice working on his game, and would constantly pester Atherton about the gym’s availability.

As a way to let his frail body catch up to a budding skillset, Simons reclassified down to the 2018 class after his sophomore year. He had spent most of his minutes playing off the ball, and opponents took advantage of his size on defense. Heading into his junior year, Montverde Academy, the same program D’Angelo Russell and Ben Simmons attended in prior years, had an open spot on their team. Simons was at first hesitant to transfer, but his parents encouraged him to step outside his comfort zone.

Montverde wasn’t a perfect fit. His playing time fluctuated, and the 40-minute commute from his parent’s home to campus was inconvenient when practices required a 3 a.m. wakeup call. But the experience had immense value. Simons himself detected immediate growth, and others now say Montverde was a pivot point in his trajectory.

“I just think it helped him understand that he played on a team with a lot of really good players,” Montverde associate head coach Rae Miller says. “Practices at our place are usually much harder than games because it’s so competitive.”

Simons re-enrolled at Edgewater the following season, three inches taller and the owner of previously unthinkable athleticism. By then, he was heavily recruited by several programs, including Louisville. Rick Pitino, the school’s former head coach, personally attended every one of Simons’ AAU games, scouting him with the same attention he gave Donovan Mitchell and Terry Rozier.

“I told the assistant coaches, ‘I’m recruiting Anfernee. He’s my guy,’” Pitino says. “I said ‘I’ll take care of him, you take care of the other guys.’ He’s done some things dunking the basketball, my mouth was open when I saw him do it.”

Simons committed to Louisville in the fall of 2016, but plans fell through when an NCAA corruption scandal led to Pitino’s termination soon after. In an effort to bulk up before his freshman season at another school, he pivoted to a post-grad year at IMG Academy, where first-class strength training facilities and a helpful nutrition program allowed Simons to get stronger. (Also, it’s where Penny Hardaway’s son Jayden became Simons’ teammate.)

At IMG, Simons put mesmerizing performances on film. A sky-high ceiling helped him become the first American-born player since 2005 to enter the NBA without first competing overseas or in the NCAA. During a lengthy phone conversation with Olshey before the draft, Pitino repeatedly referred to Simons as a steal who’d eventually make whoever selects him look like a genius. “I think when his career is over, they’re all gonna say, ‘Where was he picked?’,” Pitino says.

Photo by Joe Murphy/NBAE via Getty Images

Anfernee Simons during a pre-draft photoshoot in 2018. He was expected to attend Louisville, but chose to spend a year at IMG Academy due to Louisville’s involvement in the NCAA corruption scandal.

The first time Zormelo worked with Simons, he told him things few 18 year olds ever hear: You can make all-star teams. You should score 40 in an NBA game. When a team gives you the green light, 50 points will be an expectation.

At the time, Simons had knee tendinitis and couldn’t work out any longer than 30 minutes without limping. In addition to bringing in a specialist who helped build up his quad and alleviate the pain, Zormelo had Simons train against G League players. At first, their physicality and strength was too much. One week later he made the rim look wider than a manhole cover. “Those guys couldn’t guard him,” Zormelo says. “Nobody could guard him.”

A few months after, Simons held private pre-draft workouts in front of about 20 NBA teams. Wanting to silence any doubt about Simons’ body and game, Zormelo made a risky and unusual decision to put live defenders on him before every drill. “He was unconscious for three days,” says Zormelo, who’s trained Kevin Durant, Paul George, and myriad other NBA stars. “He had some of the best workouts I’d ever done, or ever seen.”

A few teams thought about taking Simons in the lottery. Even though his potential was Eddie Murphy circa 1979 — at one point he was a top-five pick in ESPN’s 2019 mock draft, right behind Zion Williamson, and R.J. Barrett — none would commit to a prospect who required such a long runway. Portland embraced the uncertainty and was confident he’d make headway on a timeline that didn’t force any immediate pressure on his narrow shoulders.

An early step toward vindication came in the first start of his career, which was also the last game of the 2018-19 regular season. With Portland’s key rotation players sitting out to prepare for the postseason, Simons scored 37 points to lead the Blazers back from a 25-point halftime deficit against the Sacramento Kings. It was a feat of technical excellence that was almost immediately overshadowed by an underlying message: This dude belongs.

In the process, Simons became the third teenager in NBA history to tally at least 37 points and nine assists in a game, the first two being LeBron James and Kevin Durant. Filter out assists, and Carmelo Anthony is the only addition to that list.

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After the final buzzer, Olshey grabbed Simons in the locker room. Do you understand what you just did? The rhetorical question had an answer. Without a second of rest for 48 minutes, Simons locked Portland into the No. 3 seed.

That eventually bestowed an appreciative public with Lillard’s epic step-back over Paul George in Round 1 and McCollum’s status-elevating Game 7 against the Denver Nuggets in Round 2. All of that was lost on Simons, who only remembers how it felt to flow without worry, knowing the Blazers made only seven healthy players available.

“The innocence with which he looked at me,” Olshey says. “He was just excited to finally get an opportunity and play unfettered and not look over his shoulder.”

Simons continued to back up the hype at his second Las Vegas Summer League. He put the entire offensive package on display: cotton-ball floaters, step-back 25-footers, and coast-to-coast urgency with a lit-fuse live dribble. In his third game, as dozens of general managers, coaches, scouts, and executives across the NBA looked on, Simons carved up the Jazz for a Summer League-high 35 points. He left Las Vegas with an absurd 71.6 True Shooting percentage, 30.5 usage rate, and a spot on the Summer League’s All-Second team.

The Blazers view this tangible growth as a key to their future. By letting backup guard Seth Curry sign with Dallas and trading Evan Turner (who held the ball for more minutes than McCollum last season) to Atlanta for wing Kent Bazemore, Olshey purposefully cleared a path for Simons to contribute this season.

Zoom out and Portland’s rotation is volatile. For the first time since 2016, the Blazers will not start the year retaining more than 82 percent of the previous season’s minutes on their roster. No team in the league had more continuity over that stretch. “I think if we didn’t believe Anfernee was ready to step into that role then I would’ve played it safe and brought in a veteran,” Olshey says.

It’s easy to imagine scenarios where Simons breaks through to deliver moments that will foreshadow his staying power. The Blazers have successfully deployed three-guard units in the past and will use Simons, Lillard, and McCollum at the same time.

“I think with Anfernee’s size and athleticism and Dame’s ability to guard bigger players, that’s going to be a unique lineup for us,” Olshey says. Stotts also likes to platoon his starting backcourt, which will allow Simons to function as a more prominent weapon while one of Portland’s star guards gets some rest.

Photo by Sam Forencich/NBAE via Getty Images

The Blazers are hoping Anfernee Simons follows the same development path as C.J. McCollum (right). “I would’ve been a lot more immature than he was at that age,” McCollum says.

The Blazers are optimistic Simons will follow the blueprint laid out by McCollum, another combo guard whose shot options are “all of the above” at any given time. Like Simons, McCollum barely contributed as a rookie. By his third year, McCollum’s scoring average eclipsed 20 points per game. One difference: McCollum was 22 years old when he debuted, while Simons doesn’t turn 21 until next June.

“I would’ve been a lot more immature than he was at that age. He listens well, he works extremely hard and I think he got more comfortable as the year went on,” McCollum says. “I’m sure he feels like this is a chance for him to get some minutes and I’m sure the organization is looking at his performance, his development, and trying to figure out when that time is. It may very well be this season.”

Simons doesn’t know what his exact role will be this year, but he expects more responsibility. Scoring is obvious, but his ability to defend opposing backcourts while running the team’s offense is a mystery. “He’ll have opportunities,” Stotts says. “And he’ll grow with those opportunities.”

Of course, expectations don’t always align with progress, so the Blazers will adjust if Simons fails to take a meaningful step forward. “We have other alternatives on nights where he’s gonna struggle,” Olshey says. “Or he’s up against matchups that he’s just not ready to handle yet.

But Simons is also the most exciting archetype in sports: an ascending phenom who is now positioned to make the most of his natural ability. He can be the explosive supplement Portland didn’t have in the past.

The best-case, short-term scenario is that Simons alleviates the scoring burden Lillard and McCollum have carried by themselves. Whether he lets those two stars operate more off the ball — Portland is high on Simons’ “game sense,” aka the ability to initiate their offense — weaves around screens himself, or isolates on the wing, defenders can’t ignore him. On paper, that could make the team’s offense unguardable.

The Blazers are experienced enough not to crumble if Simons can’t handle his new duties, but it’s hard to see them winning it all during this era unless he soars. Based on a lifetime’s worth of evidence, that shouldn’t be a problem. Becoming a meaningful contributor is a challenge Simons knows he’ll conquer sooner rather than later. Just like a game of H-O-R-S-E.

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