#like we CANNOT have people assuming i took the name from there and normally i do not think dots would connect except i literally

[ghoul-haunted]

every day I watch another show where a character is named Dino and at this point I feel like it's either a sign or an extremely funny cosmic joke

[affectionatecorpse]

Okay so I see some people are debating what the monster from Still Wakes the Deep is. I'm inspired by the support from my Death Angel post, so I'm gonna try giving an analysis. Now science is not my strong suit, I'm much better at zoology, but here we go.

Of course, spoilers ahead!

So, the entity comes to light in act one. While Caz is being yelled at by his power drunk boss, Rennick, a worker going by the name Gibbo calls up to say there's an issue with the drill, something highlighted earlier by another worker. Rennick orders the drilling anyway, and thus begins the nightmare, as the drill seems to unearth and awaken a destructive parasite out for revenge. But I don't think that's as deep as it goes, pun intended.

Let's say, the creature is a parasite. A form of near sentient bacteria, though take that description with a grain of salt, I'm no scientist. Parasites simply cannot live on their own. That's an objective fact. They need a host. They exist within another for survival and breeding purposes, and multiply and spread through the body of another.

Parasites, bacteria and even fungi can live underground for years, and have been discovered to do so. Ancient lifeforms have been discovered just under the surface of earth, let alone deep underneath the ground and in the bottom of our oceans, one of the most complex and diverse biomes that our current science has barely scratched the surface of. It's highly likely this creature is a self replicating bacteria or parasite that was unearthed by the drill, and took up new hosts to survive in this change of environment.

But not every host worked. You can see half transformed, mutilated bodies everywhere, and some that haven't even changed at all. These bodies could not support the parasite and shortly died.

However, a few select hosts DID end up surviving; Gibbo, Muir, Rennick, Addair and Trots. It's unclear what sets these people apart from the others, and I don't know enough about this topic to claim an answer. But I certainly do think these folks died soon into the transformation, and are not fully conscious in the body. They frequently repeat terms and phrases, and never say anything you might expect from an entity possessing them, implying it's borrowing words and sentences that have been said by the host before, in other circumstances.

The entity plays with Caz's memories and definitely the others' too, though not all of them good. It wouldn't be a surprise to realise that's where it's getting information about it's host, as it reads the memories inside the brain to learn faces, names, and even the host's personality. Which makes me wonder, does it even realise what it looks like? Does the creature itself actually realise it's a parasite? Or does it completely and fully believe it is the person it's connected itself to? It almost downloads their personality and tries to pretend like everything is completely normal.

Let's talk about arguably the best monster (in my opinion), Muir. Muir moves about the area he frequently worked as what I assume was an engineer. He roams the familiar ground, almost unsure of why he's by himself. He often calls out to his coworkers, wondering out loud why they're treating him like he's different. Sure, this could be the real Muir's consciousness slipping in and out of the seams, but it's highly unlikely he would still be alive. Much like the zombie fungus, as it's often called, the host is not alive when the fungus is controlling it, and is merely a puppet. If the spiders it was corrupting could talk, I daresay, they'd be acting like them. Taking their place in the world, even if they don't realise it.

But every animal needs to eat. And eventually, that body is going to run out of tasty, tasty neurons. Like I said earlier, a parasite needs to spread. It'll breed, then spread to another to keep it's species alive. By infiltrating a 'pack' of animals, it will take anything to spread to the others. Which is exactly what the parasite does whenever it sees another human. Either that, or it will consume them, theoretically to feed the host so it stays alive, while keeping those tasty, tasty neurons for itself. You can almost see this process with Innes, as the elevator ascends without him, and you just faintly see Muir doing something in the distance. Likely consuming him for nutrients, as he was not connected to the parasite yet.

Next, there's Addair.

Addair, much like Muir, patrols familiar ground. Even though Addair himself wasn't even in that area when the drill struck. Now Muir was actively in that familiar space in the beginning, and it's safe to assume that's his place of transformation. But Addair was eating in the cafeteria when the incident happened, not deep down in the engine. Did he go down when the impact happened, while Caz was unconscious? Maybe. But the lights were fine then, and the engine wasn't the problem, so he didn't need a reason to. Plus, he doesn't seem like the type to be work dedicated, more inconvenience dedicated. Considering what I said about the parasite (badly) taking their place in society, did it go to his place of work after detecting that as his 'natural environment', per se?

Plus, unlike Muir, who greets the situation with quotes of confusion, fear and anxiety, Addair is instantly aggressive. Even an asshole like Addair is likely to panic if conscious in this situation, so the nervousness was Gibbo and Muir exclusive. But Addair and Rennick become immediately angry upon seeing Caz, as they actively disliked him in life, and so the parasite processes him as a foe to it's host. I thought that was neat.

Now another take I have admittedly heard from several other people, but I thought was worth mentioning. The monsters are incredibly similar to sea creatures. Which means this underwater bacteria was possibly leaking out already, and transforming our animals, not enough to completely corrupt them, but enough to twist their bodies. Think of the appearances of deep, deep sea creatures, such as the anglerfish. Isn't it possible this parasite was responsible for their uncanny appearance, in this universe? Muir especially looks like a spider crab, or perhaps even a bigfin squid.

Which again, is a deep sea creature. Rennick also reminds me of a blobfish once removed from the pressure of the deep sea. Addair seems very jellyfish-like, but may be something else very... tick-like. And even Trots gives me major merfolk vibes, with how untouched his torso is in comparison to his lower half.

This parasite could have been feeding off the neurons and breeding through our very ecosystem as the ground slowly gave away above it. The drill unearthing the source likely gave it a burst of control as so much energy was released at once, hence why it was so fast to literally spiral out of control.

But Scotland, by all means, is not the only place in the world connected to the ocean. Sure, they destroyed this batch, but other forms of this parasite live on elsewhere on earth. And the explosion may not have even destroyed it. It definitely would've destroyed the host bodies, yes, but certain bacterias can survive impressive damage, even heat hot enough to burn off human flesh. We'd best hope this is not one of those bacterias.

I didn't really get as far with this observation as I did with other horror studies, but I had fun nonetheless! Like I said, I'm really better with zoology (hence the sudden enthusiasm when I started on sea creatures), but I loved Still Wakes the Deep SO much that I just wanted to write down my thoughts. If you have any other theories, feel free to add them!

Also if I used your pictures/gifs and you would like me to add credit, I am so so sorry, I will absolutely add that as soon as you say so, I just got most of these off Google and couldn't find most the original sources. So yeah if you'd like me to add your name and mention, or you want me to remove it in general, feel free to just say and I'll add it, I don't bite I promise. Well... I won't bite YOU.

Sorry sorry, had to make a zombie reference--

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Last Twilight: Ep 12

The TL;DR of this post is just... Sincerely what the fuck?

I remember posting after Episode 1 that I was keeping a suspicious eye on the mention of the eye donation because while I do think in real life disabled people have the right to manage their disability any way they want to and would support someone's choice to get a cornea transplant, real life is not fiction and fiction is designed to pull messages and themes from. Episode 12 from almost it's first moments completely undermines two and a half month's worth of messaging about learning to accept a new reality. I don't think it is foolish of me to assume based on the set up of the first episode that Last Twilight was supposed to be an exploration of grief as told in conversation and parallel between someone who lost a loved one and someone who lost their vision.

If this story had continued in the way it started out the first half of this show, I honestly think it could have been a 10, those first few episodes I was enjoying so much I was worried it might knock out Moonlight Chicken as my favorite Aof offering. Now I have rated Last Twilight as a 3, I will never suggest it to anyone and I will never rewatch it. Why?

Because from a fictional narrative perspective, having Day gain his vision back at the end undermines the entirety of the show's messaging from the first 11 episodes. Every single lesson, every single message just absolutely obliterated by every moment of Episode 12.

Day getting his vision back right as he and Mhok get back undermines the narrative in the following ways:

Rewarding Day for managing to create a successful and happy life as a blind person (literally like "hey you graduated and ran a bookstore while blind! Congrats you get to be normal again!)

"Rewarding" Mhok by insuring that he never has to do any caregiving for Day going forward so we don't get any navigating or expectation of Mhok and Day being in a longterm inter-abled relationship

We eliminate all chances that the subject of pitying Day re-enters any future fights, meaning there is now zero risk for Day maintaining a relationship with someone he worries might infantilize or pity him

It absolves Night of any remaining guilt he may be carrying from thinking he caused the accident that made Day blind

It absolves Day of any remaining anger at Night thinking he caused the accident that made Day blind

Mhon's ableist fucking ass gets her "normal" son back the way she confided in Mhok she'd hoped for after the first failed cornea transplant

It undermines the theme of the in universe Last Twilight novel and the conversation that Day and Mhok have about Mee being turned in to a statue on the top of the mountain and how that was hopeful because her father had found a sight so beautiful he couldn't think of anywhere else Mee would need to see and instead turns the message essentially in to: "there is hope, you can be cured"

It dismantles their cute couple thing of the one palm distance which also makes the OST that they played all the fucking time completely irrelevant

And most importantly, it undermines all the growth that Day went through while processing his grief and the two, TWO separate occasions where he came to terms with his disability

And that's just the disregard for the narrative messages, giving Day his eyesight back is incredibly ableist in the case of this story because of certain ableist through-lines woven in to the entire show. Namely:

While Day is blind, there is no reciprocity of care. Mhok is always taking care of Day, I cannot think of a single instance where Day really took care of Mhok in a significant way. By focusing so much on Day, and abandoning any strong focus on Mhok's grief over losing his sister, Day is never given an opportunity to be a support system for Mhok. Which is fucking ableist. Disabled people have so many things to offer the world, and while they might have specific support needs that does not mean that they can't offer support in return.

Mhok doesn't introduce Day to his family at their graves until after Day has his vision restored, and it is only then that Mhok says he has someone to take care of him. Able-ist!

Day gets his vision back almost immediately after a conversation with his mother where she says he wants to be normal and the fight he had with Mhok is normal.

Handling the entire story this way, with the break up, and a three year time gap, and then Day having his vision restored literally hours after he and Mhok get back together does not allow for any exploration of Mhok and Day having to figure out the differences between Mhok being his caretaker and Mhok being his partner.

We shunted literally every part of Mhok's backstory completely to the side, which in and of itself is fucking ableist in my opinion because it implies that able bodied people who are caretakers for or who are in a relationship with a disabled person don't have any time for themselves, to deal with their own shit or to have their own needs because they are too busy taking care of a disabled person.

With this being, what, the first main character in a BL with blindness, you want to go for the cure route after acceptance? Like you are rewarding someone for their bravery of handling their disability instead of allowing the disabled person to remain happy and thriving in the life they have built for themselves while they continue to be blind?

I'm not blind, so forgive me if I am overstepping at any point here but in my opinion, if you want a narrative that gives Day back his eyesight, that story that not be written by a sighted person. You need blind writers, people with the lived experience having control over the story so the narrative is better able to navigate the complexity of a decision like that, to reverse a character's blindness. I just think blind people would be able to minimize how much returning someone's eyesight might come off as ableist in a story like this. Additionally going the cure route is not a choice I think anyone should be making with the first BL that focuses this heavily on blindness. This world is so fucking ableist, if you want to make a story with a disabled main character with how slim of pickings there are, it feels much more responsible and subversive to go a disability pride route.

And these are just the issues around disability in this show, I have problems with the classism in this show, I have problems with the absolute ridiculousness of Mhok and Day's breakup and their reunion. MHOK APOLOGIZES, MHOK THANKS DAY FOR BREAKING UP WITH HIM, DAY DOES NOT APOLOGIZE FOR BREAKING UP WITH MHOK OR BLOCKING HIM ON SOCIALS FOR THREE YEARS BECAUSE MHOK PITIED DAY ONE (1) TIME. I get not wanting to be pitied, I get it, but seriously it is so much less compelling to have Day just completely abandon Mhok after all of the positive experiences they've had together because he messed up once rather than reel himself back in and have an adult conversation about what happened and try to get back to a balanced state.

Anyway, fuck this show. I am so disappointed that this is Aof's last directed piece for who knows how long. He could have gone out with a bang after Moonlight Chicken and now I am just fucking thankful I won't have to see anything else from him for awhile.

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 12: Geography :(

Aaaand now it's the time for a geography lesson, says the narrative.

Nevrast (Turgon's pre-Gondolin kingdom) is a Noldorin-Sindarin mixed culture. Nice. I assume Gondolin will be like this, too? And still, Eol took an issue with it being too Noldorin.

Finrod is above his brothers, and has the most land and is allied with Cirdan. He deserves it all, he is awesome. <3 Except the part where he doesn't tell Thingol about the shady stuff.

Morgoth's servants all hate water and do not go near the sea unless they really need to. I wasn't sure that was canon.

Ungoliant is mentioned again. She poisons water and it makes people insane. Wait, is this the place where Nienor will later get lost?

Nargothrond's location and surroundings described in detail.

Maglor's gap has horses, oh, so that is why "Maglor the horse girl" is a thing?

Finrod travels a lot, visits Ambarussar and Green elves and what not. Who rules Nargothrond when he's away?

No Noldor go through Ered Lindon in the First Age. I'm not sure if I need this information for something, but maybe.

Chapter XV: more Noldorin drama

Tumladen the Hidden Valley. Mhm. I feel like I've seen this morpheme somewhere more popular. :)

Turgon's Ulmo-induced anxiety is also a thing that sleeps and wakes, because Tolkien's poetic language. (I like Eldritch Oath, but it is a hc with no stronger textual support than the alternative, I think)

Turgon works in secret. And it is not very bad. (He still ends up loving it too much and dies, but he's a very mild case of this problem anyway). also, it takes 52 years (4*13, like deck of cards; or 2*26 and 26 is on of the numbers of perfection in the Bible, iirc. Maybe it's just random logistics.)

Ulmo appears to Turgon (in physical form not in a dream, as he later "returned to the sea") and infodumps him. Gives him a manual on what to do + a prophecy + you will mess up anyway + but it's ok I will send you a reminder + so leave here an armor in this exact size and style. (Really, Ulmo does give Turgon the exact size for the armor, helmet and sword.)

I have a feeling that (at least in Ulmo's opinion) Turgon isn't the brightest fish in the sea.

Meanwhile, Melian asks Galadriel what the problem is and Galadriel doesn't want to speak about it. Also, if seems like the Hiding of Valinor hid it also from Melian's mental information-gathering abilities? She sounds like normally she should be able to see what happenned but now she's not. Huh.

Important points Melian says:

the Noldorin princes never mention the Valar

the sons of Feanor are arrogant and cruel (this is pre-Kinslaying!)

[later] fate of Arda is bound to the Silmarils

[later] the Eldar cannot recover them on their own

Galadriel tells her about the unrest and what Morgoth did, but not the murders, oath or ship-burning. And refuses to say more.

Melian goes to thingol, Thingol also knew something was off and had been thinking about it. Melian warns him against the sons of Feanor, Thingol says that Feanor was a great Elf (according to what he heard) and his sons are sus, but useful as allies.

So, we have a (sort of) answer why Thingol didn't want to talk with the sons of Feanor: they were behaving so badly that (based on gossip, but it migcht have been well-founded gossip) he did not want to deal with them. Huh. for 400-ish years? Not even talk to them to see on his own? Weird but ok.

Now Morgoth starts spreading gossip among the Sindar. how? I would assume Sauron and thralls. I wonder why didn't he earlier tell the Sindar about Alqualonde. Did he not know? So how does he know now? I can't figure out his strategy here.

So Thingol accuses Finrod of being a kinslayer. Finrod is very nice to his cousins and diplomatic. He prefers to be blamed for something he didn't do than to tell on his cousins. But Angrod is still angry at Caranthir (after a couple hundered years, I think. huh.) and tells on them.

Is this why his name is Angrod? Because he gets angry so easily? (+after-the-fact Elvish etymology)

Anyway, Angrod explains he before didn't mention it because of loyalty. Huh. the earlier chapter said something slightly different, but ok. And he talls on them… except the Oath? Kinslaying and ship-burning is mentioned, but no clear indication that anyone told Thingol about the Oath. Which is interesting. Gives a lot of space to my favorite type of conflict (where each side has some good points, but they do not fully know other side's situation).

Thingol kicks them out for a time, and does the Quenya ban, which is directed at the Sindar only. Nothing in the book suggests that Thingol tried to ban the Noldor from speaking their language. Just the Sindar. And they listened. And avoided those who spoke it (which confirms that the Noldor did speak it with no ill consewuences greater than social ostracism). Everyone started speaking Sindarin, only the Noldorin princes spoke to each other in Quenya and the loremasters used it.

And we end on Finrod's sad foresight.

[guybitesatgames]

A Primer/Refresher on Celia (and why the TMA listeners are freaking out)

Below the cut, I've written up a little synopsis of all Celia's appearances in The Magnus Archives, for those who are just joining during The Magnus Protocol and want a little background context. There will be HEAVY spoilers for TMA season 5, so if you don't know what happens as of episode 160 generally, and episodes 190-194 specifically, and want to remain unspoiled, steer clear.

After that, I will be discussing her appearances in TMAGP 06 and 07, so spoilers there as well.

Following the summaries, I have a few theories about the Celia we're seeing in Protocol, based on a few extrapolations from TMA Celia.

Celia's first appearance was in MAG 100 - You Had to Be There, where she was going by the name Lynne Hammond. She showed up to the Archives to give a statement about a flaming ghost that would visit her at night up until she moved apartments. The details were… lackluster, because she was giving the statement to Martin. Normally the Archivist's powers grant the statement-givers a better recollection for the event and some amount of verbosity, but Martin's no Archivist. She came to give her statement not because she was particularly perturbed, but because according to a friend, the Institute compensated people for their stories.* She left without having met John.

We next see her after the Eyepocalypse in MAG 190 - Scavengers, where she is a member of Georgie and Melanie's cult. She was rescued from a domain of terror by Georgie and Melanie, but not before the domain took her name, so she goes by Celia now.

Celia seems head-over-heels about G/M, very well attuned to their likes/dislikes, and is first to notice and alert them to the appearance of a tape recorder. She's eager to hear how G/M rescued John and Martin, but they put it off. Georgie and Melanie perpetuate the idea that John and Martin are prophets like them in front of another follower, Arun, but it's unclear whether Celia is present in that scene. I assume the info gets around.

In 191 - What We Lose, John and Martin talk about Celia and confirm that it seems like she doesn't recognize them. She never met John, so that makes sense, but she did give her statement to Martin, and he remembers her and her former name (and doesn't even tell her, rude).

In 194 - Parting, Celia is the one to alert John to the fact that Martin left with Annabelle, but we don't get much other characterization for her, and that's the last we hear of her in TMA.

-

Now, in Protocol, we're meeting Celia again -as Celia-, not as Lynne Hammond. So far we can't know whether this is meant to be the same person as the one in TMA, but we do know they share the name and are both voiced by Lowri Ann Davies. In the two episodes we've had her, TMAGP Celia has said some suspicious things.

In TMAGP 06, we get this allusion:

Back in the cult, the reason Georgie was able to survive The Horrors unharmed was that she was biologically immune to fear. Now, there was nothing indicating she could grant that power to others, but this line could be a callback to that.

Failing that, we know that Lena's interview requires that the applicant has seen something terrible, that no one would ever believe, and Celia even remarks upon it to Sam and Alice. So even if this isn't TMA Celia, this is a Celia who has seen something.

In TMAGP 07 - Give and Take, she starts hunting around more directly.

"Buried alive or meat" seems pretty specific for someone who doesn't have reason to know about the Buried or the Flesh, but let's come back to that later.⸸

After "Chester" reads out the case, Celia is audibly shaken. Notably, it doesn't seem like the Too Close I Cannot Breathe aspect of the story bothered her (which might have made sense given the "buried alive" quote). It was the voice that read it.

This one throwaway line‡ really stuck out (as I'm sure it was intended to).

It COULD just be an easter egg for all the TMA girlies. But it could ALSO be...

Theories

-Is this Celia the same one from TMA?

I think there's an argument for "no", for two specific reasons. First, that Celia was not well versed in either fear cosmology or The Magnus Institute. Remember, going back to our first *, she'd only visited there originally because she thought she could sell her ghost story - the one she seemed utterly disinterested in. Post-change, she doesn't even seem to remember giving a statement - the appearance of a tape recorder doesn't trigger a memory of the Institute, nor does she recognize Martin.

Second, we have this exchange:

Post-change, Celia hung on the words of Georgie and Melanie. They named the Archivist as a prophet, a nightmare strider like them, and shortly after he left the cult, the Eyepocalypse ended. Even if she didn't believe he was the reason it ended, "unimportant" doesn't strike me as the go-to adjective, even if she's lying to Alice.

-Then who is this Celia?

⸸ This Celia is someone who may be familiar with Smirke's 14 fears categorization.

‡This Celia may have direct, remembered experience with the Magnus Institute's filing system (which TMA Celia did not seem to have).

I think this Celia has worked with an organization dealing with the supernatural - possibly the Magnus Institute itself - before.

Wild Stretching - One Possibility

Let's make a bunch of assumptions. We know there's a multiverse situation and that people can be pulled from one continuity to another without obvious cause (see the case of Anya Villette in MAG 114: Cracked Foundation). Might it be that Celia came from not the TMAGP continuity, nor the TMA continuity, but one we haven't seen? One where John was unimportant, just another researcher? If she's hung up on "being buried alive or meat or whatever", maybe she was an aide of Gertrude's and witness to The Last Feast. I'm connecting too many dots there, but it's for illustrative purposes rather than a firm belief.

I think this Celia has been displaced from a continuity where she had more than just hapless-bystander-level involvement with the supernatural, and I'm willing to bet there is a reason she's not using the name Lynne Hammond.

[quibbs126]

Well alright, someone said yes, so I’ll post the designs

Warning, these are kind of old and not very good art. Or maybe I’m just being self critical, some of it I think still looks neat

Let’s start with the ones that I made look cool and drew both the Stand Human and Human Stand

Unfortunately I could never figure out a Stand design for Okuyasu, so he only has his half done

Why does the lettering actually look kind of cool…like it doesn’t look half assed at all like it normally does. Maybe because I was intentionally trying to make it look cool

I made Joseph a scarf because I remember his scarf being a notable part of his design. Also Hermit Purple was vines, so equal treatment

Giorno looks like that because I recall at the time some people saying how Golden Experience looked like young Haruno but GER looked more like current day Giorno, so I kind of took that idea and made him look like Haruno, though maybe I took things too literal. Also that’s why Oro looks like GER. Also Oro is supposed to have a somewhat unsettling stare, since people say GER looks kind of creepy

Also another thing I want to mention about Polnareff, specifically his name, so that’s not an 80s song, that’s from 2014, it’s the name of a song from a French artist I liked. So realistically it probably wouldn’t be used but I thought it sounded cool. And hey, the song itself samples a Michael Jackson song, so eh?

Anyways, so something I should mention about this style, so at the time I was obsessed with this other artist’s, @droolingdemon style, and I tried desperately to recreate it. I think by this point I just tried to integrate it with my current style, but that’s why the art style looks the way it does. I might make another post about the subject on its own though

Anyways, onto the Chibi style Stand humanizations

I’ll just list some things I remember from their characters

So I did eventually consider turning Purple Haze into a dog, I think specifically a greyhound, but I didn’t know how to draw dogs, so that never happened

Stone Free never takes off those sunglasses and never lets anyone see what she looks like under them. As it turns out, she’s actually blind, and this would be revealed around the snail part in the story (assuming there are still snails), as she’s unaffected, and I believe she’s told to drive a car because of it, but she can’t, and when asked why, she says it’s because she’s blind (and that this was probably a bad time to relay that info)

The three in the last pic are all different characters who end up sharing the same Stand as it gets passed around between them. Whitesnake is part of the prison staff, C-Moon is just an unfortunate young lady who just happens to get stuck with the Stand after something happens to Whitesnake, and Made in Heaven is I think a horse rider who gets the Stand from C-Moon, probably forcibly taking it from her (and she likely dies) as he knows what it is. Also, Whitesnake and Made in Heaven were dating

Oh yeah, also the first Standswap art I did, which was also Chibi style, I just singled it out because of that

Featuring Star Platinum and The World. Not sure I ever found a definitive design for The World, but maybe I did in my sketchbook

Anyways, so then we have some random headshot ones I did

Let’s see, in the first one we have GER looking ominous, Purple Haze, the blushing one is Tusk Act 1, and buns is Ball Breaker. Then for the second one we have Whitesnake, Under World, Killer Queen and Scary Monsters

I believe one thing I did for the Part 7 swap storyline was to have Tusk have a journey of slowly transitioning from a woman as Act 1 to a man as Act 4. I know I’ve drawn Act 4 Tusk but I think it was in my sketchbook, so I cannot show it. Also I believe Ball Breaker was trans too, just male to female, and where Tusk got the idea that you can just be your preferred gender if you want. Also note that at the time, I did not actually really understand how transitioning worked. Though to be honest, I think the main thing was that I didn’t know hormones existed, or that transitioning could be more than just making yourself look like your preferred gender

Anyways, on to Scary Monsters. I believe he rode horseback without a saddle. Also, he started out with one Stand (Dr Ferdinand) but then got another (Diego)

Then with Killer Queen, I believe he was a mute cop. But also secretly a serial killer. Also he might have had a cat like face

And yeah, I think that’s about it, hope you liked it

[emilou-keen-gear]

Demons on the Run Part 2

Characters: Scrooge McDuck, Betina Beakley, Duckworth, and Flintheart Glomgold

Word count: Approx. 4000

            The group of four made their way to the Duckburg cemetery. Most people only saw three, but there were definitely four.

            “There. There. That’s where I saw my gravestone,” Glomgold shouted, pointing to a large, iron gate that separated two sections of the cemetery.

            “I don’t remember that being there last time I was here,” Beakley said, squinting at the gates.

            “That’s because they usually aren’t there,” Scrooge McDuck said, scrutinizing what his eyes saw. “That tree by the fence marks where the sidewalk begins and Waddlesworth Dr. That gate, the fence, and all those gravestones we see shouldn’t be there.”

            Beakley raised an eyebrow and Glomgold quaked.

            “Duckworth, I’m assuming that is an illusion made by our demon, correct?” Scrooge asked his loyal servant.

            “If I may correct you, sir, it isn’t an illusion but a portal to another dimension,” Duckworth said politely. “Rather a pocket dimension. It takes up a very small space, but allows the demon to lure victims to it.”

            “I’m sorry, but doesn’t that sound a little complex?” Beakley said in her irritated tone. “If the demon is luring people into this pocket dimension, why would it allow Glomgold to go free? Wouldn’t it be easier to have kept him in the other dimension and eat him there?”

            “Astute observation, Mrs. Beakley, but demons do not eat as we do,” Duckworth lectured. “While they can feast on flesh and blood, the way they gain nutrients and power is by feeding off ethereal products of the living. Some demons eat souls, some eat emotions, and others can feast on pain or other things that are not tangible. This particular demon, I believe, feeds off of mortality.”

            “Mortality?” Scrooge asked, not liking the sound of that. He had been fighting mortality for a long time, and he hadn’t lost yet. He wasn’t about to start now.

            “Yes. I guess that a more accurate description is that this demon eats entropy,” Duckburg said. “It thrives on the decay of mortal bodies until they die. However, the normal aging of a person doesn’t give it enough nutrients to live by, so it drains the years away from a person so they age and die within twenty-four hours. The tombstone with Mr. Glomgold’s name on it is most likely the demon’s crux of power.”

            “So, we destroy this crux of power, the demon dies and ol’ Flinty lives?” Scrooge guessed, hitting his nemesis with his cane.

            “The solution isn’t as banal as that, Mr. McDuck,” Duckworth said. “The crux of power has the demon’s strength inside it, so it is near indestructible. But since the demon has put all its power into a crux, it is vulnerable to attack. The trouble will be finding the demon. I imagine that it has hidden itself somewhere in the pocket dimension to protect itself. But the good news is that the demon cannot be too far away from its crux or it cannot feed.”

            “Well, I didn’t expect this to be easy,” Scrooge said. “What about you, Twenty-two? Are you ready for this?”

            Beakley cocked her gun, loading a cartridge of rock salt into the chamber and ready for the fight. She had another shot gun at her hip, several super soakers filled with holy water strapped to her back and all her other artillery within arm’s reach. She was already imagining herself as Dean Winchester. “I was born ready. Let’s do this.”

            “We must be very careful. As I said, the demon is currently feeding off of Mr. Glomgold. The longer it takes for us to find the demon, the longer it has time to feed and get stronger,” Duckworth said. “As you can see, the demon has already sucked out much of Mr. Glomgold’s mortality.”

            They took a look at the squat duck, seeing wrinkles and lines on his face that weren’t there before.

            “What?” Glomgold asked, having only half-listened to the conversation. “Do I have a booger?”

            Scrooge sighed. “Okay. Into the fray everyone.”

            Beakley took point as they entered the pocket dimension, the iron gates squeaking open on their own.

            “It knows that we are here,” Beakley said, her back bent a little in a tense crouch. “Keep your eyes peeled.” She kept going forward into the graveyard, confident that Scrooge had her six and everything else outside of her vision, and even though their relationship was rocky at moments, she also trusted Duckworth to be on her side.

            Glomgold was another matter. But she didn’t worry about him much. After all, it was to his benefit to warn them of danger.

            The path was made of broken rocks sunken into the earth. The gravestones were old and crumbling, most were so worn through that the names and dates were illegible. The grass was long and unkempt with weeds everywhere. Trees and bushes were untrimmed and dying or already dead and a hazy mist gathered and swirled around them.

            “There. There it is,” Glomgold said, shivering. “That’s my gravestone.”

            It was huge and ostentatious, cast in gold with a large statue of Glomgold standing with confidence on top.

            “The demon certainly got his details right,” Beakley said with a smirk. “This is exactly how I imagine your gravestone to be.”

            Glomgold crossed his arms. “That can’t be right. It’s too small.”

            But all their caution was for naught. The demon, it seems, wasn’t in the mood for hide-and-seek.

            “Welcome, lady and gentlemen. And welcome back, Flintheart,” a pleasant voice of unknown gender called out although the mouth that it resonated from was not to be seen. “I was expecting company, and you have come right on time.”

            “Expecting company?” Scrooge asked. “Any company or us in particular?”

            “Most demons don’t give a flying brimstone fart about the caretaker of the ghost portal, but I was fascinated by the demon that was once human,” the demon said. “It isn’t often that the Ghost King would give a once-mortal so much power and trust. So I did the research on you Mr. McDuck. It wasn’t hard. Do you know just how many people in the ghost realm know you? I’m sure you don’t know them all, but they know you. So many people have gone before, even though your time should have come long ago.

            “I wonder what your mortality would taste like. You look as if you don’t have many years left in you, but that’s only the surface. Below those feathers is a fountain-well of lively years, perhaps more than most people on Earth have. You staved off time with magic and wishes and spells and all sorts of things. Can you just image how long I could live off of a person like you?”

            “I’m not particularly curious about something like that,” Scrooge said conversationally, looking around. There was nothing odd or out of the ordinary in the graveyard save for the overgrown plants and how much in disrepair it was. If the demon looked like a demon or something out of this world, Scrooge would have noticed it by now.

            “You might not be, but I am,” the demon said. “So I’ll thank you Mr. McDuck for stepping into my trap and bringing another appetizer with you. Let the feasting begin.”

            The mist cleared, and they could see two more grave markers right next to Glomgold’s, more modest in size and shape than his. They bore the names of Scrooge McDuck and Betina Beakley with their birthdates. Underneath that, the date of their death was for the morrow, exactly like Glomgold’s.

            “I think you’ll find me a little harder to swallow than your normal fare,” Scrooge said, tightening his grip on his cane. “As you’ve observed, I’ve been around for a long time. You don’t think I’m going down without a fight.”

            “But I don’t have to fight,” the demon said. “I just have to stay in my hiding place as you and your companions grow weaker and weaker until the three of you die. You can search my pocket dimension all you like. The chances of you finding me are unlikely. Even your ghost butler cannot locate me here through supernatural means.”

            Scrooge’s eyes slid to the side. “Duckworth?”

            “He’s correct, sir. Any powers I would have to perceive its whereabouts have been severely dampened. I wouldn’t know where it was unless I was actually touching it,” Duckworth said.

            “Then we’ll tear this place apart,” Scrooge said. “Twenty-Two, start spreading that holy water, iron and salt. Let us know if anything starts burning from the contact. Glomgold, make yourself useful and destroy everything you see. The demon either can change its form or create illusions or can hide some other way. But the creature is here, and we will find it.”

            Scrooge, Betina and Glomgold went to work. They tore up the grass, broke branches, ripped apart plants and trees with the hope of finding the demon. They even pushed down the gravestones which crumbled to dust once they heaved them over. Everything they destroyed immediately turned to dust or rubble, whatever enchantment that was upon the objects disappeared quickly.

            The three mortals worked, but the ghost remained behind. It wasn’t because he felt the work was beneath him—although as a butler that had trained at the best academy in England and who had a long pedigree of butlers in his family it certainly was beneath him—and it wasn’t because he lacked the power. It was because he knew that Mr. McDuck’s tenacity wouldn’t be enough. The pocket dimension was far too big. There was no way they could search every inch of it in one day. And even now, the ducks hadn’t noticed that the pocket dimension was repairing itself. Within a few minutes, they could turn around to find all the trouble they had gone to was for naught.

            It was up to him to do something.

            “Demon, I challenge you,” he declared, changing into his own demon form.

            Scrooge turned around, his eyes widening. “Duckworth, what are you doing?”

            “That is interesting,” the demon said with a voice as smooth as silk. “But you have nothing I want, Guardian of the Portal. You have no body, and since you have sold your soul to the Ghost King, there is nothing about you that is affected by entropy. Why would I answer your challenge?”

            “Because I have access to a golem,” Duckworth said.

            “A golem? You mean a man made of mud?” Beakley asked, knowing her mythology.

            “Of a sort,” Duckworth said. “In a way, all mortals are made of mud, depending on the stories.”

            “And why is having a golem so important?” Scrooge asked, skeptical. He didn’t like where this was going.

            “The golem was my second chance,” Duckworth said with a sigh. “As you know, ghosts and demons can possess a body on a temporary basis. But a golem is a body with no soul. A spirit or demon could take possession of it indefinitely. In fact, the process melds the spirit and body together, as if they were completely alive again.”

            Beakley stared at Duckworth as if he were crazy. Or perhaps there were other emotions behind her stare, but they were hard to read.

            “You mean you could have come back all this time?” Scrooge asked, incredulously.

            “Not exactly,” Duckworth said. “The golem was part of my deal with the Ghost King. I would have been given leave to use it after a time of service with him, and more time after my ‘second death’.”

            Scrooge was about to ask for more information, but Duckworth raised his hand. “I cannot say no more, Mr. McDuck. The terms of our agreement are between the Ghost King and me. But in a case such as this, the use of a golem for a day is enough that my spirit won’t completely bind to the golem, and I should be able to separate myself from the body.”

            “That is if we survive,” Mrs. Beakley said.

            “But…it’s essentially going to make you…” Scrooge began.

            “Mortal,” the demon finished with a laugh. “Oh, and how delicious will that be. Not just eating Scrooge McDuck’s mortality and soul, but I will also be eating one of the souls that belong to the Ghost King. This will truly be the meal of the century.”

            “Now hold on a moment. You haven’t won anything yet,” Duckworth said. “I called a challenge, and a challenge I will have. You know the stakes we’re giving, but for your part, if we win, you will relinquish our bodies and souls and will go back to the ghost realm from where you came. Will you accept?”

            There was the sound as if something were smacking their lips. “Oh, the trickle of the years coming off of the bodies of the four of you won’t compare to when your dry, husks finally give up the spirit, and I will slurp your souls up as if they were the finest of soups. Delectable. I can almost taste the entropy of your souls as I dissolve them piece by piece.”

            “Do we have a deal?” Duckworth asked again.

            “Are you sure that you know what you’re getting into, Duckworth?” Scrooge asked, interrupting. “This is your second chance to live.”

            “Mr. McDuck, as always, it is a pleasure to serve you in any way shape or form,” Duckworth said, giving his past employer a small smile. “So, demon? Do we have a bargain?”

            “How could I deny your request? I have no excuse to refuse the treaty of the Ghost King,” the demon said. “The challenge is accept.”

            There was a resounding clap, and suddenly everything felt very official.

            Beakley cleared her throat. “That was interesting, but may I ask just exactly what we agreed to? What is this challenge? And what’s all this about a Ghost King and a treat?”

            “The second question shall remain a mystery. That’s on a need to know basis,” Duckworth said. “As for the answer to the first, every demon is under a signed writ that they must allow a challenge to be issued from their victims, a chance to escape from their demonic appetites. The challenge is more of a game than anything, and it is up to the demon to determine the rules and goal, although they must be within reason.”

            “Within reason?” Glomgold asked, for the first time paying attention.

            “Their victims must be given a fair chance at escaping,” Duckworth explained.

            “Define ‘fair’,” Beakley demanded.

            “As fair as the lion is with the gazelle or a cat is with a mouse,” the demon interrupted their conversation. “Demons are predators, and although we are far more superior to our prey than a lion is to his, we must deign to give you humans just as fair of a chance to escape. The challenge is to pit your strengths against my own, just as the lion’s strength is against a gazelle’s speed.”

            Beakley frowned. She had a feeling that the odds were less in their favor than the gazelles of the African savanna.

            “What is your game?” Duckworth demanded.

            “I thought that since I designed my pocket dimension to a specific area, let’s play something that is fitting for the setting,” the demon said, its voice amused. “Are you aware of the children’s game Ghost in the Graveyard?”

            The three ducks and the ghost looked at each other, looking for any sign of recollection.

            “The game is simple. You must make it to the other end of the graveyard, but if anyone gets tagged, then game over,” the demon said. “I will roam my dimension, searching. Is that not a fitting game for a predator to play with its prey?”

            Scrooge shivered. It sounded like a game a serial killer would play. “This game feels a little one-sided. For one thing, you know where we are and we cannot see you. If children play this game, they are all on equal footing.”

            The demon sighed. “I suppose you are right. That would not be fair. I shall take my true form. It is large enough that you will not have difficulties spotting me. And I shall go twenty feet away and close my eyes for ten seconds, giving you enough time to hide yourselves. Is that satisfactory?”

            Scrooge thought things through. It still felt one-sided, but he had been against similar odds before. “Fine. Off you go.”

            “But first, the demon guardian must don his mortal armor,” the demon reminded them.

            “It will take me a few minutes,” Duckworth said. “I must summon the golem from the other realm.”

            “I will watch, so that you don’t try anything,” the demon said in a suspicious tone.

            Duckworth quickly drew a circle in the dirt before holding his hands out. The circle glowed with an eerie electric-violet light. From within the light a figure started rising out of the ground. And while the display was distracting, Duckworth whispered to the three ducks.

            “The demon has very good hearing,” Duckworth whispered. “It can’t sniff you out or hunt your down with its other senses, but its hearing is far better than ours. We’ll have to be careful not to make a sound once the game starts. And despite how it looks, do not, under any circumstances, attack it. The game’s rules are absolute, and if it touches you, then the game is over. This applies especially to you, sir.”

            “What?” Scrooge McDuck.

            “There’s no being sharper than the sharpies and smarter than the smarties,” Duckworth said. “Craftiness and sneakiness won’t help. The rules are absolute and cheating will not be tolerated. The best strategy we have is to work together and make it to the end together, but we also cannot make ourselves a large target. We work as a team but remain as far apart as possible. That is the only way we can get out of here alive.”

            “I agree,” Beakley said, nodding her head. She started removing most of the equipment she had brought with her. Most of it was cumbersome and would make noise. She could move better without it, although she was sure to keep some tricks up her sleeve.

            “I can take care of myself,” Scrooge said.

            “I bet that I can get out of here faster than you can, Scroogie,” Glomgold said with a cackle.

            “This isn’t a race, Flinty. This is our lives,” Scrooge protested.

            “Sounds like someone is chicken,” Glomgold said.

            “We’re on the same team. We’re not competing against each other.”

            “Chicken!”

            “Why did I ever bother to come down here and save you?”

            “Stop it you two,” Beakley snapped. “Arguing isn’t going to help us. I’ll not be some demon’s meal just because you are behaving like children. And Mr. Glomgold, so help me, if you so much as make another sound from this point on, I will personally make sure that tombstone remains true to its premonition, demon or no demon. Do we understand each other?”

            Scrooge and Glomgold nodded in sync with eyes wide. Knowing that her threats would be backed up, Glomgold remained silent.

            “Good,” Beakley said. She caught Duckworth giving her an approving smile, although she didn’t know why. As far as Duckworth had been concerned, serving his employee and being loyal was everything. Chewing out someone who paid your wages or had as much money as the pair of billionaires had would have been a disgrace.

            Duckworth finished summoning his golem, and he approached the body that stood without moving. It looked just like him, or at least, how he looked when he was alive.

            “The second you gain possession of your new body, I shall begin the count,” the demon said. “And I promise not to look.” The demon chuckled.

            Duckworth looked to his companions before reaching out and touching the golem. As if it were a vacuum, he was sucked inside through the golem’s mouth with a short cry of surprise. The golem opened its—or rather his—eyes and fell back onto his backside.

            “Duckworth? Duckworth? Are you alright?” Scrooge asked, standing over the golem.

            Duckworth opened his mouth and made a few strangling sounds. For a few pregnant seconds, everyone panicked, not knowing what was wrong. But after a while, Duckworth gasped, sucking in air.

            “Good gracious,” Duckworth said. “I forgot how to breathe.”

            “One Mississippi,” the demon said, its tone very child-like.

            “Hopefully that isn’t the only thing you’ve forgotten,” Beakley said, holding a hand out to the newly-mortal butler.

            “Two Mississippi.”

            “Let’s move. We only have so many Mississippis until the demon comes,” Scrooge said.

            Glomgold grumbled and pointed back toward the gate, keeping his mouth shut as he promised.

            “Three Mississippi.”

            They looked and were surprised just how far the gate out of the pocket dimension was. The demon must have moved it.

            “We’ll never—“ Scrooge started to say but Beakley silenced him.

            “Four Mississippi.”

            She pointed to her ears, reminding them that the demon had perfect hearing. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and gestured that that move forward but to the left, guiding them not directly to their destination but to the side.

            “Five Mississippi.”

            They followed Beakley through the maze of tombstones, not at a run, but at brisk walk, keeping their noise level slightly above stalking.

            “Six Mississippi.”

            Beakley made gestures for them to spread out, not follow her in a line. Scrooge was quick to follow her directions but Glomgold protested silently until she shook a fist at him. However it was Duckworth that looked to be the one to give her the most trouble.

            “Seven Mississippi.”

            He was doing his best to follow, but apparently he didn’t have complete control of his legs. He wobbled and his knees knocked together. Not to mention, one of his arms appeared to have a spasm, jumping slightly randomly. And he was making a lot of noise.

            “Eight Mississippi.”

            Scrooge understood Beakley’s strategy. There wasn’t enough time for them to run to the exit, the demon would catch up in no time. And even if they hid before the demon stopped counting, searching all the hiding spots that were directly in line with the exit would be the first place it would look. Beakley was playing the long game, one where it would take time to get to the end, but the best chance they had of surviving. And it was best for them to spread out so they wouldn’t make themselves as big of a target.

            If things all went well, they would be fine.

            “Nine Mississippi.”

            But then Scrooge looked back, seeing Beakley taking a hold of Duckworth’s arm and having him lean on her. It was obvious that the dog wasn’t lame, but either it had been far too long since he had been in a mortal body that he didn’t know how to control one or the golem body had more difficulties than they thought. Beakley caught his eye, and through gestures, conveyed that they continue on. Scrooge would be in charge of watching Glomgold and help him to the end. Beakley would help Duckworth.

            Scrooge nodded, catching up to Glomgold and forcing the squat duck to the ground behind a tombstone in the shape of a man with a large splay of turkey feathers where they couldn’t be seen. He hoped that Beakley and Duckworth had enough time to find their own hiding spot.

            “Ten Mississippi. Ready or not, here I come.”

***

It was running long, so I had to make it three parts.

This story talks a little about Duckworth and his relationship to the Ghost King, which I have mentioned in my fanfic Twisted Strings of Fate. I am not getting into Duckworth's background or any lore about the Ghost King. This is simply going to be a short story which may be related to a few other short story in this collection, which may also eventually be integrated into my main story. We'll see. I really like where it's going, but that won't be for a long time.

[utilitycaster]

@burr-ell replied to your post “Just saw someone posit that Bor’Dor is secretly a...”:

hold up i think im missing something, what's moon theory??

So: it's been long enough and we've gotten enough actual moon lore since that I no longer go full Kill Bill sirens, and I've had several dubious wine cooler freezer pop...things so let's do this.

The basic gist of the most well-known moon theory is that Fjord is from the moon. I do not recall if it specified which moon. I am not, to be honest, entirely sure if the people who put forth this theory were aware that Exandria had two moons. I think they were aware it had multiple moons but I am not positive that at the time of the theory they could name them.

Of course, there is lore. I'm not up on all of it and as mentioned, drinking, and it was like, not quite three years ago when it reached its height and I haven't rewatched the video that caused this to circulate on Tumblr since. If you want to watch the full video, which is very stupid and poorly edited, you can watch it here.

Anyway: the theory was that Fjord, a half-orc, was actually one of the space orcs from the Spelljammer setting, which are "cleverly" called Scro. (This is also the origin story on why I immediately assume that anyone super into Spelljammer has the cognitive capabilities of a grilled cheese sandwich, an assumption that has not yet failed me.) The reason why was that he was "too small" to be a half-orc (he's on the small side but, contrary to what fanartists will have you believe, well within normal bounds of half-orc sizes) and also he was too smart to be an orc. This, when you realize this video was made in August 2020, ie, many discussions about racial essentialism in general and in D&D specifically are being had, really gives you a sense of the brain trust we are working with here.

The basis of the theory beyond that is...incomprehensible. It mostly rests on panels in which Matt is like "yeah Spelljammer sure does exist" or the fact that Travis, when asked point blank if Fjord was from the moon, gave the sort of "what the FUCK" stare one might expect. Apparently the video is about other moon theories as well but I could not tell you what they were because it's mostly just a series of (poorly) edited clips in which the moon is mentioned. There is no thesis. There is no argument. It's the Moon Moon of YouTube videos. I do distinctly remember that Keyleth being a Circle of the Moon druid is mentioned for no particular reason other than the word "Moon" is there. It's essentially a compilation of times the word "moon" exists. It's so fucking stupid. It also, as I recall, and I want to note at this point that I've done a significant amount undergrad-level work in astronomy and cosmology so you can see how painful this is to me, rested heavily on not understanding that the Astral Plane and Outer Space are different locations. But it is almost an hour long, and again, it aired in August 2020 with all that entails, so it unfortunately caught on like Circle of the Moon Wildfire.

Anyway. The point is that some people took "if you can't blind them with brilliance, dazzle them with bullshit" very much to heart and there was a month or so in the CR fandom where everyone was like "lol Fjord is an alien from the moon haha" which very much sucked, but fortunately, and I cannot believe I'm saying this, the shipping discourse of Rumblecusp served as a fucking balm in comparison since at least it was fandom bullshit as usual rather than a no intelligent life on this planet scenario, though it was definitely being unfunnily joked about for quite some time after. I'm sure it has pockets of supporters somewhere but I think anyone watching Campaign 3 can feel confident that it's been soundly debunked.

Anyway I searched my blog and I found this from that era which, if I do say so myself, is pretty funny.

[sethshead]

"Update for October 28.

"On Thursday I sat down to write at 10. By the time I had finished emptying most of the thoughts that were crashing inside me, and cutting out entire paragraphs that made the whole thing impossible to navigate, it was 5pm, and I hadn't eaten lunch or looked up from the computer for 7 hours. I hit send, and then spent the next evening and day trying to understand why a quarter of the people on my mailing list don't seem to be getting the posts, all the while pushing down inside myself the next paragraph I want to write, the next paragraph I have to write.

"Friday afternoon a correspondence with a friend I haven't seen since Harvard brought home that she doesn't understand the context of things that I take for granted. She wants to understand. I want her to understand. But I can't assume that when I use words like 'settlements' or 'kibbutzim' she knows who I am referring to and gets the right pictures in her head: that I can't use the shorthand I am accustomed to when I try to explain our predicament. Our bloody, ancient, convoluted, cruel predicament, that cannot be boiled down to black vs. white, good vs. bad, truth vs. lies or justice vs. injustice. It's all shades of black and bad and lies and injustice.

"By evening I was shaking. As my husband and daughter cooked Shabbat dinner for me and the boys and my mother who came in from Jerusalem, I was falling apart. My saint of a husband saw this and said – would you like a Lorivan? I have never in my life taken anti-anxiety pills. Yesterday I took one, gratefully.

"My every hour is a vacillation between grief, anger, horror and guilt. Yes, guilt. I needed to read posts by more than one psychologist on Facebook to realize that guilt is currently the normal response felt by most people. Guilt for what we might have done to prevent this situation, guilt for what we might have done to protect our children, guilt for what we are currently neglecting – all these hours in front of the computer, for example, are coming at the expense of my family, of my work which I used to believe makes a difference in the world. Guilt for what is being done in my name. Guilt for my anger. Guilt for drowning in my own pain while all around me others are suffering so much worse.

"In fact I think that at a time like this, the only people who feel no guilt are psychopaths. Unfortunately, our Prime Minister is one of them, his attitude expressed perfectly by the Minister of Communications, Shlomo Karhi, who in a brief television interview this week said: 'I hear people telling us to apologize, to ask forgiveness – for what?'

"When my eldest son, Roi was born, the size of a premature baby though he was carried to full term (due to undiagnosed toxemia), he was placed in a neonatal intensive care unit. There in a metal cot, lay an infant so small and wrinkled, trussed up in so many wires and sensors so that I was afraid to even touch him for fear of detaching something important. All these wires were hooked up to monitors that were constantly beeping. Every few seconds a new alarm would go off at one cot or another. When it happened at our cot, we panicked, until an NIC nurse, worn and weary, came over and gave the monitor a heavy thunk to silence the beeping. After that we learned to ignore the alarms. They call this 'Alarm Fatigue'. And I realize that for much of my adult life in Israel, I've been suffering Alarm Fatigue.

"It's not that we didn't know that life for people in Gaza was hellish. That even after Israel withdrew from Gaza in 'The Disengagement' of 2005 – a highly traumatic rift in the political fabric of Jewish Israel – life in Jewless Gaza did not improve much. On the contrary. Take it from Palestinians like Yasmine Mohammed, whose father's perspective is that the heaviest blows to civil rule in Gaza came in 1994, when the Palestinian National Authority under Yassir Arafat took control of administration and policing in Gaza following the Oslo accords; and worse again in 2007, when Hamas violently wrested control of Gaza from Fatah, the ruling party of the PNA. As Prime Minister of Israel since 2009, Benjamin Netanyahu's policy was to support Hamas against the more moderate PNA, so as to delay talks and foil the option of a two state solution. Netanyahu raised Hamas much as one would raise a Pitbull for dogfights, keeping it just healthy enough to stay alive, just angry enough to preserve the killer instinct.

"The simplistic narrative that Gaza was peaceful and self-ruled before the Israelis came along is simply not true, historically. Gaza was under centuries of occupation, with control shifting from the Ottomans to the British to the Egyptians and then – only for a few decades – to Israel. There had been continuous Jewish presence in Gaza from the days of the Second Temple (600 BC) until the Palestine Riots of 1929, when British Mandate forces evacuated the Jewish community of Gaza for their own protection. Jewish colonialism? Were the waves of Jewish refugees fleeing pogroms and persecution all over the world – NOT JUST IN EUROPE – from the 19th century onward – NOT JUST AFTER THE HOLOCAUST – a colonial movement? To an independent state established by a multi-national vote of the United Nations, on land that had been under British rule for the previous 30 years? Whether this is colonialism or not is a matter for historians to argue and politicians to leverage. My concern is with human suffering. And human suffering has been going on for centuries, on all sides, with responsibility shared by any number of entities.

"The problem for me, my guilt, is that I developed Alarm Fatigue. I developed Learned Helplessness (this is also a term in psychology that you can look up). I knew things were bad in Gaza. I knew – and know – of human rights violations and terrible injustice in the West Bank. Pogroms now, too. I vaguely knew of the terrible atrocities and suffering to the north of Israel, in Syria and Lebanon, with minimal Israeli involvement, and felt comfortable slipping into the Israeli mindset that as long as they're busy killing each other, they'll be less concerned with killing us. But I also knew of a whole slew of social injustices in Israel that were growing and festering, feeding off neglect, prejudice, global hypocrisy, despair.

"In the past decades since I reached adulthood we've had strikes, rallies, riots, police brutality, roads blocked, violence and assassinations related to so many social issues: • Disabled citizens demonstrating for their disability allowances to match minimum wage, so that they can have a living pension • Israelis of Ethiopian origin protesting racism and discrimination • African asylum seekers, whose petitions to be recognized as refugees have been ignored for nearly a decade • Riots of Eritrean asylum seekers between supporters of the Eritrean regime and rebels • Protests against the expulsion of children born in Israel to migrant workers whose civilian status was never granted • Teachers striking for livable wages, improved work conditions and smaller class sizes • Interns and medical students striking for livable wages and work conditions • An assassination at a Gay Pride parade • Discrimination against "the periphery", towns not in central Israel that for years have been neglected and kept poor • The mass social protests of 2011, crying out against the rising cost of living and housing

"And on and on it goes. All so painful. All so unjust. Which cause takes precedence? Which can I care about today?

"'You bore me,' said Benjamin Netanyahu in October of 2018, to a resident of the far north town of Kiryat Shemona who cried her plight in his ears. We all bore him. Election after election I cast my ballot, only to see Netanyahu return, while the parties I vote for shrink and shrink.

"Years ago, my husband Hemmy volunteered to oversee a voting station at one of the elections. He tells of a woman who walked into the room where she was to cast her ballot, loudly cussing out Netanyahu and the Likkud and how much they are responsible for her terrible quality of life, for everything bad in the country, talking so loudly and angrily that overseers hushed her, because political campaigning is forbidden in the voting room. She went behind the curtain, selected the paper ballots to put in her voting envelope, came back and threaded the envelope into the ballot box. 'F8ck me,' she said. 'I voted Bibi again.'

"How does he survive? Unfortunately, there is one thing Netanyahu does better possibly than any politician in the world, and that is to sow hate. Netanyahu is master at pointing you in the other direction: look, there! THEY are to blame! THEY are living the good life at your expense! THEY think they're superior to you! THEY want to keep you poor! THEY want to see you die! Because as long as we're busy hating each other, we're less concerned with hating him.

"Most of the citizens in Israel believe they are, by some measure or other, second class citizens. Most of them feel discriminated against. Most of them feel neglected and ignored. And they are – but they're busy blaming each other.

"And Gaza? Since 2007 we've been treating Gaza as though it's an unruly lawn to mow from time to time. Life may have been intolerable in Gaza, but it was tolerable enough for us, and we had our own injustices to attend to. Occasionally they sent missiles, we bombed them. They sent thousands to stand at the fences, we shot them, then bombed them. They sent balloons with explosive devices to ignite fields, we mocked them, then bombed them. They dug tunnels under the fence, we mocked the Kibbutzniks' alarm over this, and bombed Gaza some more. We keep chopping the head off the snake, ignoring the fact that it's a hydra: that for every head chopped off, three more grow. We keep orphaning children, ignoring the fact that a few years later those children will no longer be children, but adults who were orphaned as children, who grew to adulthood festering in injustice, in privation, in hatred, in revenge. When there is nothing to lose in life, thoughts to turn to glorifying revenge in death.

"So, what now? Some of you have asked me.

"Ceasefire? How can we cease firing, when Hamas is still firing daily at us? Thousands and thousands of rockets. Yesterday some of them evaded the Iron Dome defense system, and Israelis were killed in my city, too. Missiles landed on buildings across the street from where my cosmetician lives with her daughters aged 4 and 8. Next door to where one of my husband's employees lives. These are not detached hypotheticals for us to discuss.

"How can we lay down our arms when Hamas still holds over 200 hostages, and refuses to even grant access to Red Cross representatives who can tell us how many of these people are still alive, are still intact? Not that Bibi cares about the hostages. A bunch of peacenik kibbutzniks who never voted for him, foreign migrant workers who can't vote for him and maybe some boring lower class citizens from the periphery towns who will always vote for him, no matter what.

"So, what CAN we do?

"I don't know. I'm helpless. Talks? Who will do the talking? Netanyahu, on our behalf? He can't even talk to his own citizens. Talks should have been the solution years ago. Decades ago. Who is there left to talk to? Who cares what I think, anyway? I'm boring.

"And I'm guilty. You are too. You know it. You know that the computer you are staring at could not have been manufactured without exploitative sweatshops in distant countries, where people suffer out of sight, out of mind. You know the land you live on is steeped in the blood of indigenous peoples, the wealth of your country was built upon slave labor, through the pillage of colonies. What About-ism works without fail, because we all carry this guilt inside us, guilt we were born into, for crimes we are complicit in every day just by living our lives and ignoring the suffering of others. I would walk away from Omelas, but where to?

"I don't know what Israel can do right now. I don't know what you can do right now. I don't even know what I can do right now, except maybe take another Lorivan in a few hours, and reach out to the people I love and tell them that I love them, that I am grateful for them, that I wish for them to survive, and hope by some miracle that this will pass so that someday we can help each other rebuild a more just and caring society.

"#gili_from_telaviv"

h/t Gili Bar-Hillel Semo

[moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom]

Can you just imagine how painful it must be for Vador to utter the word "Senator"...

i did… and then my hand slipped…

note: this kind of assumes Vader didn’t know Obi-Wan was still alive, but I wrote this on a whim and what even is canon anyway.

————————

It was the breathing that did it.

There were many terrifying factors to Darth Vader’s appearance, but it was the distinct mechanical hiss of his life-giving ventilator that scattered Keshian crew and nobles alike out of his way as he strode inexorably towards the bridge. A child stared in horror up at him from a side door before its mother pulled it away into the room. Metal creaked and bent before him as he pulled the bridge doors apart, stepping through the now-empty space like it was no big feat. The crew of the ship flurried around in a flustered rush, but at the middle one woman stood still, and there was something familiar about her as she turned towards him-

“Okay, what’s Jabba the Hutt’s middle name?” Hardcase grinned as the rest all shrugged. “The!” 

Jesse and Fives groaned, but Ahsoka raised an eyebrow as Feli let out a soft laugh. “Where do you get all these jokes?”

“From the Darth Maul,” Hardcase said cheekily. “What do you get when you cross a bounty hunter with a tropical fruit? Mango Fett!” By then, Rex was facedown on the table, covering his ears, and even Padmé seemed to be over it. Feli was the only one who seemed to appreciate the riddles, and seeing her laugh was so different to Anakin than how she usually was, calm, composed and-

It was her. 

The steadfast senator of Mochi (that idyllic Outer Rim planet that Padmé had dreamed of retiring to) was the very same woman who stood in front of Vader now. Feli Dashone. One of Padmé’s trusted allies, Hardcase’s one true love, the woman who hadn’t smiled since they’d gotten back from Umbara. 

He should say something. ‘Feli’ hurt too much to say, so he went with the better option. Not that it didn’t hurt, just that it hurt less. “Senator,” he rumbled. “Or should I say traitor?”

“Lord Vader.” She was as cool and collected as ever, meeting his emotionless black mask with no trace of the fear that normally dogged his adversaries. “I see you and the Empire’s cronies have decided to… inspect our vessel. There’s no need. We’re on a diplomatic mission to-”

Vader had heard it all before. “You are aiding the Rebellion.”

“I am delivering food to refugees on Alderaan. Surely that is not a Rebel act.”

“It is when you also smuggled weapons, Imperial blueprints, and supplies to insurgents on Lothal on your way there.” He took a step closer; his large build cast a sharp grey shadow over her slight frame, but she did not flinch. “We found the manifest of your ship. Did you think your actions would not be discovered? You cannot hide from the might of the Empire.” He clenched one black-clad fist.

To his surprise, she actually took two steps closer, looking right through his tinted red lenses. “Tell me, Lord Vader. Are you so cold and bitter inside that the suffering of peoples in your jurisdiction matters nothing to you? Don’t you care about the thousands and thousands of beings, couples, families, children, who are dying all over the galaxy?” Her voice had taken on a soft, glowing fury, and she seemed to catch herself, leaning back and straightening her posture. “If the Empire won’t help them, I will. All I am doing is honouring the wishes of an old friend.” 

He pretended nothing else she’d said had even reached his ears. “Then you know of other dissenters in the Senate.”

“Now? No. But many years ago, as I’m sure you’re aware, Senator Padmé Amidala passed away.” Padmé. There was a faint tugging in his heart, as if her memory, the mere mention of her name summoned longing of some sort inside him, and he did his best to dredge up all the anger and hate he could to squash it away. “Her last message in a hologram to me was to protect the people.” Among other things, Vader deduced, observing the way she seemed to be purposefully omitting something else that Padmé had said. “Surely you would not stand in the way of friendship. Surely you would not disgrace Padmé’s memory in this way…

“Anakin.” 

It was only due to extreme effort that he didn’t jerk violently away from her. How-

“Master Kenobi paid me a visit on Coruscant the day the Republic fell,” she said, eyes glittering with savage satisfaction. “How could you. How could you betray everything you’ve ever known, everything you fought for? The Republic, the 501st, your family. Obi-Wan, the Jedi Order, Hardcase, Padmé.” She took a step closer, and he felt the temperature in the room — or just in his suit, maybe — plummeting as her voice dropped to a sharp whisper. 

“Padmé would be ashamed if she saw what you’ve become.” 

His fist tightened, something invisible crushing down around him, and as he clenched it closed, she dropped to the floor, motionless. Blinking away the red haze, he gestured to the stormtroopers standing awkwardly at the door. “Take her away.” One of them knelt, then seemed to freeze. 

“Um, she’s dead, sir.”

Anakin.

Let her go!

It seems, in your anger, you killed her. 

He pushed away the memories as the overhead lights sparked and flickered. “Then dispose of her. And burn this ship to the ground.” As we soon will destroy the Rebellion. 

But first, he had one thing to take care of. 

Master Kenobi paid me a visit the day the Republic fell. 

Obi-Wan was still alive. That meant Vader had one last loose end to tie off. 

—————————

yeah so I don’t know how to write Vader but I hope you liked my random little snippet sjdbjdbdjd

[sentofight]

"Do you ever get scared?" said where they sit at the back of the airship, away from the commotion at the front. Exhaustion in his eyes, blood staining his clothes (not his own, rarely his own) and fingers still curled into fists even though he had already handed the name tags to his commander. What good did forgetting do when he couldn't forget the moments where his magic stopped working. "Ah", there's a sudden life in his gaze once Hinata realizes his own words. "Sorry, I… That was out of line, you—you don't have to answer that." (FOR KING MWAH MWAH MWAH idk what setting but i like airship ones so i am yoloing

unprompted <3 i love u so much sobs... | @lunarcry

Another day, another battle won. This means Mother will be proud of them, right? With this victory they have secured a safe route between the magic academy and another further point in Concordia’s region. This way they can operate on a larger scale in a couple of days--or so he assume because it only makes sense that they keep pushing now that they have some kind of upper hand in the region.

King could not care less which course of action they would take; to go out immediately to fight the Concordians or stay for reinforcement, they are going to fight in the end.  

The marksman helped move some supplies back inside the aircraft and then moved away to settle down for some rest. He could hear some whispers that how ... ‘used’ he look to all of this. Mhm ... they are not wrong but at the same time, he is not used to this. One of the things he vaguely seem to recall that ... he should not get used to this (wonder when and who told him this..)

Moving in and about to help around until it was time to take off in which he sat in the designated area with other cadets. Usually. class zero exclusively board on an aircraft on their own due to how secretive some of their missions. However, since this is the return to home aircraft, sharing it with other cadets would not pose a problem. 

The older cadet took notice of the young man beside him. He had seen him plenty of times already. Name: Hinata. Class: Fourth. Specialized in healing. Some more information rolled like an end credit scene in the marksman’s mind. Perhaps, another habit he had picked on without knowing--remembering some finer details about the people around him. One of the details that the young man is not actually fond of fighting per se. So, his statement did not raise any suspicion out of the older cadet. Humans feel fear; so it is obvious to question things.

Eyes narrowed down momentarily at the younger cadet. King had already crossed his arms when he sat down and leaned on the wall behind him to take a quick snooze when Hinata talked to him. He leaned back in a bit more to fix his posture, eyes closed in thoughts before replying. “ ... sometimes,” (anyone would fear missing up their mission) a brief pause, then he added, “We all want to come back alive and victorious. Fear is a normal thing. Without fear people will not have passion to fight what they want to protect.” to be honest, it is a heavy topic, especially in a situation like this. He opened his eyes a little bit to gaze at the cadets around him--bloodied, traumatized, and tired ... 

“Though ... there are more than fear which move a human to fight,” like loyalty ...love ... which what move a young man like King to fight; what moves Class Zero in particular to fight. Their love and loyalty to their mother make them fight day and night for her. Perhaps it is something that others cannot understand but they never asked for their understanding. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry for asking questions. Knowledge is power after all.”

[ireallydontunderstandpeopleatall]

Stephen

So it's Monday and probably about a week since I found out about Stephen's passing. Stephen I am sorry I am finally making this post but I have really just been trying to deal and I'll get into that a bit later.

About month ago I started calling Rose again after trying to distance myself from cheating ex and she brought up Stephen and mentioned she was told to reach out to him by her psychic which had me thinking about how I have not reached out to him in an unknown amount of time(but now I have learned it has been about a year ago from the time I am writing this post now (July 2022)) and I couldn't believe how long it has been since I have actually talked to him and I know in my mind I have thought about him from time to time and how thinking if I have no one else to hang out with, Stephen will always be around for me and plus hanging out with him will be a safe choice for staying platonic and I will get to get back to my normal life after seeing him, not like cheating ex who will latch on and won't let go.

Anyway rose said she had been calling stephen but can't reach him and thought it was weird he has not called her back so then I started trying him at random times for like 2 weeks but it had consistently went to voicemail right away and I'm like thats weird because his phone is always reachable or he will call back and I had left a voicemail. then finally last week I let rose know I called and the number said "this number cannot accept calls at this time" and i'm like ok what does that mean bc it's not "this number is not in service" so I tell rose and she goes to his house. she said there were a few cars out front which is about right and what I saw when I visited him at home. so she rang the doorbell but no one answered so then her friend suggested finding and obituary and she actually found one and i had googled his first and last name but nothing came up and also I did not want to put obituary at the end bc wtf i did not want that truth at all. then when I put in obituary and there it was, as clear as day and the result at the top, how could I have not found or seen this earlier.

March 21st it read he died suddenly in cedar rapids, iowa. I didn't even know stephen goes to Iowa. but anyways wtf. suddenly? why what happened and why does it have to be this way. you know I still owe you money right Stephen? and that's because you were always so willing to be helpful and giving, that's why i still owe you money. now why didn't I reach out during christmas and new years even? I know I had covid and was dealing with health stuff but I can talk to you about that stuff. I am so sorry. I have been so occupied with so many different things but I should have still kept in touch, you were such a good friend that I took so much for granted but have always been so grateful to know you.

you really meant it when you said you saw us as your good friends, I know that now, I have been surrounded with so many bad people that I assume someone as good as you might have had an agenda. which is just stupid seeing that people that actually did have agendas I just dived head first in. I have been so childish, immature, selfish and uncaring. I miss you so much Stephen, you deserved so much better. you did not deserve to die so young at 62, I didn't even know you were 62 you had so much life left. another death that will teach me not to take people for granted, but it has come at the hands of the two kindest people I have known.

I read the notes people left on your obituary page, saw your baseball pictures and I just cried, everything they said was so true about you, which means you were a consistent person with everyone and i should have appreciated you more. because I did not deserve you, you never judged us and you were so priviledged and had it all together and you never judged that I was poor, that I struggled, that we were from different worlds. you really are as sweet as they say. You did constantly smile like they said, i can still see your smile and I have through the years, you were so happy, so positive even after the negative experiences you told me about you were still so care free and courageous.

When rose was heading to your house I was thinking it would be nice to do another Tahoe trip since I have been wanting to travel more and we can try Tahoe again and see different things. I saw our Tahoe trip in my google maps history, it said 9 years ago, I cannot believe it has been that long, where has the time gone? you have never forgotten us, not once. you were always there to answer our call and thats why it was weird we could not reach you by phone.

I want to post your obituary picture here but I saw that you had many professional achievments from the same picture, i don't want someone to do a reverse image search and have your picture to be linked to this blog, i dont want to affect your reputation in any way.

anyway stephen i still dont know where you were buried and think it might be in california and im debating on reaching out to this person who has your name on youtube and I assumed it may be your son bc I know you have the same name and ask them about your resting place so I can see you and pay my respects.

I am so so sorry you were taken so soon, you will always be missed. you were one of my longest knowing friends and i think if my life was not such a mess that i would have had time to reach out more and spend time with you more and maybe show you how much i did appreciate knowing you. rest in peace old friend. thanks for the memories. <3

sept-9-1960 -march-21 -2023

[druigswhores]

gold rush | 1

THE HANDS OF FATE

pairing: druig x eternal!reader

summary: in which druig found himself falling for the gentle soul who was also known as the goddess of human love and flowers.

warnings: this series will include major spoilers for eternals.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: first chapter!! so excited for you guys to read this, apologises if there’s any mistakes I haven’t proofread it and it’s almost 2am </3

masterlist - series masterlist

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the beginning…

A team of eleven Eternals were sent from Olympia to Planet C-53 to protect the inhabitants from the deviants, unnatural creatures who preyed on the vulnerable. They were given the mission to protect those who cannot protect themselves from these creatures.

In the thousands of years after the Eternals blessed the earth, the humans would assume things about them. Whether they were real, whether they did good for humanity or whether they were just normal people whose names became twisted due to the years that had passed. But there was no denying one thing, there was nothing that Druig cares for more than humanity itself.

Well, except for her.

Years later they couldn’t even find the letters he wrote to her, addressing her as ‘My Theia’, or how the two were rarely found without the other trailing closely behind. Not only would the public be surprised at the dynamic the two had but their fellow eternals who mistook yearning and admiration for simple friendship, however their relationship was discovered to be much more complicated than that.

Stood against the cold walls of the Domo she allowed the golden beams to wrap around her like a comforting blanket, in one glance her clothes were changed into bronzed armour, long skirt flowing with every step she took, hair cascading down as a delicate golden flower crown circled the crown of her head.

‘She’s glowing’ Druig thought, the first time his gaze ever fell upon her.

As the ship neared Earth she couldn’t help but peer out of the window in awe. The dark blue oceans in contrast to the greenery. All she wanted was to stare at the planet as it spun on its axis.

“We have one mission.” Ajax called out, causing the Eternals to band together. “Protect the humans and defeat these deviants, Arishem himself will be keeping a close eye on us.” She continued.

“Their fate is now in your hands.”

The group nodded in response before splitting up to get time alone before the mission began. Looking around the Domo she watched two figures stand beside the window glancing back and forth from the view of Earth to the other person whilst whispering amongst one another, smiling as she noticed the man’s gaze not once leaving the woman he stood beside.

She was told to stay back on the Domo by Ajax, left with other eternals to watch the mission be completed without their help. Unable to pull her eyes away from the ground below her, she watched the speedster take the humans out of the deviants path. Admiring each and every one of the heroes' powers as the eternal, she discovered to be called Sprite explained each and every one of their abilities.

“That’s Ikaris, he can fire energy blasts from his eyes and can fly.” She explained giddily, watching as the man took down a deviant.

“I don’t think that’s scientifically accurate.” Phastos cut in, causing the smaller one out of the group to roll her eyes.

“And what ‘special’ abilities do you have?” A voice spoke out suddenly, she turned to the direction in which the voice was heard from, eyes meeting his own as she took him in for the first time. His dark hair was meticulously swept across his forehead, a starking contrast to his cerulean eyes that stared at her own curiously. He sat cross legged beside the window, distant from the group.

“Who?” Sprite asked the brunette who tilted his head in the woman’s direction, she felt the nerves bubble up in the pit of her stomach as all eyes went on her, she stood up before clearing her throat. Taking a couple steps forward towards the Eternal before stopping in front of him, signalling for him to hold out the palm of his hand, he did as he was told to do so, hesitantly. Gently placing her hand above his, she placed her left hand below his, cupping his hand in between her own while glancing every so often at the group of Eternals that watched her every movement.

“Pick a colour.” She instructed him as his gaze was still fixated on her face, unable to look anywhere else but at her. Too mesmerised. His eyes flickered to the pink tinge on the apples of her cheeks before answering her.

“Pink.” He answered simply, watching as she acknowledged his response, eyes fluttering shut while directing all her attention to the palm of his hand. He barely felt the stem press against his skin, petals embracing one another. The rest of the Eternals were mesmerized by the golden aura surrounding the two whilst Druig was too distracted by the warmth of her palm against his own.

Seconds later she pulled her hands back, opting to fiddle with her fingers as she watched him admire the singular rose in the palm of his hand, the petals matching the colour he thought of in his head perfectly. He gently twirled the stem between his thumb and index finger, admiring the way the giardina moved as if it was still one with nature, attached to the bush with its roots trapped in the soil.

His fingers traced the edge of the petals causing the edges to turn a shade of gold. Fingers retreating back in shock, Druig watched as the flower fades back into the soft pink shade.

“Your turn?” She questioned, gazing at the man in curiosity. He opened his mouth to begin to speak only to be distracted by the sudden movements of the Domo making its way closer to the ground, the rest of the Eternals began making their way to the designated spot as the Domo appeared out of thin air to the humans below.

“I guess you’ll be able to find out soon.” Druig responded, she swore she saw a smirk forming on his face but as she blinked it disappeared, his back facing towards her as he made his way towards the other Eternals.

They were brought down to the earth’s surface by Phastos and his inventions. All stood in a line, facing the fearful crowd. She stood the closest towards the crowd, hesitantly making her way forward, freezing as the crowd began to raise their weapons towards her and the rest of the Eternals.

In a split second their weapons were dropped. Eyes now golden as they stood up from their defensive stance, a wave of calmness overtaking the humans. She watched in confusion, glancing over at the rest of the eternals before her eyes fell upon Druig who stood palm stretched out in front of him, his eyes which were once a beautiful shade of blue, similarly to the skies above, were now a bright golden. As he lowered his palm his eyes flickered back to the blue, his gaze met her own with an unreadable expression. She knew from then on that it would be difficult to know what the telepath was thinking about unless you had his own powers.

As the Eternals stood in front of the humans they noticed them visibly relaxing, understanding that their only aim was to protect them, not to be feared by them. A little child made their way towards the group, Sersi glanced at Ajax for approval before making her way towards the child. Holding the worn out dagger in which they were previously using. A string of gold wrapped around the dagger as Sersi used her powers to transform the dull brown into an elegant gold with an ink blue handle.

She wasn’t aware of the young girl making her way towards her until Kingo cleared his throat, nudging her with his elbow. She bent down to be levelled with the girl’s height before reaching her palm out to take the girl’s hand into her own. Using her powers to create a similar crown to the one placed on her head, placing it gently on the little girl’s head, letting out a noise of surprise when the girl wraps her arms around the eternal in an embrace.

Ajax’s words echoed in her mind as she pulled away from the younger girl.

“Their fate is now in your hands.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

all works: @yelenabelovasgf @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers @drpepperobsessed @ghost-bich @whosedevil @meg-nyt @freddiecore @missusstark @hehehehannahthings @tandefeaffe

druig taglist: @dontstopxx @itscheybaby @halsmultibitch @hereiamhereigo @redroomproperty @serrendiipty @bellaiscool @justifymyfeelings @measure-in-pain @swaggieee @maddyt28 @minxie98 @bookthingz @whatdoyxumean @zofps @she-wintersoldat

[shinsorokiri]

human realm unsolved #2

Satan: This week in Human Realm Unsolved we discuss the famous case of D.B. Cooper, a case that the humans in the FBI, or the Federal Bureau of Investigation, has referred to as on of the great unsolved mysteries in FBI history.

Lucifer: Wow what a creative referral name the humans have come up with.

Satan: Well it’s also considered as one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in US history.

Lucifer: US history is a mistake and a mystery in itself.

Satan: I... actually cannot fight you on that one.

Lucifer: Of course you can’t. 

Satan: ...Moving on to the case. On Wednesday, November 24th, 1971, a man going by the name Dan Cooper bought a $20 one way ticket for a plane on a known human airline company paid for in in cash. The flight number was-

Lucifer: Hold on, only $20?

Satan: It was a different time, Lucifer. I thought you would know this seeing how you’ve got a stick up your ass about only allowing yourself to go to the human world. Inflation exists.

Lucifer: I don’t need you to lecture me on inflation, Satan.

Satan: Then stop interrupting me with stupid questions, Lucifer.

Lucifer: *grits teeth* Apologies. Continue the story.

Satan: Thank you. The flight number was 305 and the plane began in Portland, Oregon of the United States, and was flying to Seattle, Washington. Cooper was described as such - a man in his mid-40s wearing a business suit with an overcoat, brown shoes, a white shirt, and a black tie.

Lucifer: A very normal seeming outfit. 

Satan: Probably the point.

Lucifer: Yes, no one would suspect someone who resembled a business man to create one of the great unsolved mysteries in FBI history.

Satan: Not at all. If only they knew you, they would know that that type of apparel means nothing good.

Lucifer: You’re wrong, everyone knows how well respected I am. In fact, it sounds like if this Dan Cooper human knew who I was, he would have modeled his look after me.

Satan: Your sin is showing.

Lucifer: *glares*

Satan: Cooper also had on him a briefcase and a paper bag. While on the plane, he ordered a bourbon and soda-

Lucifer: So that’s why you’ve provided us with some demonus and soda. A wonderful drink, if I do say so myself.

Satan: Thank you. I made it myself.

Lucifer: Of course the proportion of soda to demonus is slightly incorrect...

Satan: *clenches fist*

Lucifer: A noble attempt, though. Continue, please.

Satan: *clearing his throat* A while after the plane took off, Cooper handed the stewardess a note of which the stewardess put away, but being the ever insistent man he was, he whispered to her, “Miss, you better look at that note. I have a bomb.”

Lucifer: …He just told her?!

Satan: Yes.

Lucifer: That’s a horrible plan!

Satan: Well I’m sure he didn’t want to blow the plane up with him on it. And he never got caught. So I assume he did something right. 

Lucifer: He could have been more discreet.

Satan: He tried.

Lucifer: Not hard enough, apparently.

Satan: Well he told her to sit next to him and proceeded to show her red sticks - which I can only assume is dynamite - with an array of wires inside of the briefcase he was carrying. He then made her write down, “I want $200,000 by 5pm in cash, put in a knapsack, I want two back parachutes and two front parachutes. When we land, I want a fuel truck ready to refuel. No funny stuff, or I’ll do the job,” to give to the pilot-

Lucifer: “No funny stuff?!”

Satan: No funny stuff. 

Lucifer: Why didn’t the stewardess just take this man down.

Satan: He had a bomb-

Lucifer: He sounds absurdly idiotic, I can’t imagine it would be too difficult to take the briefcase away from him. In all honesty, it sounds as though he’s planning his heist as it happens.

Satan: Well, humans are fragile, Lucifer. 

Lucifer: I know that, but this man just sounds like some copy of a TV show criminal. Like he doesn’t know what these types of people are actually supposed to look like or act like.

Satan: …hm.

Lucifer: ...What?

Satan: ….Nothing. He proceeded to ask for the $200,000 to be paid exclusively in $20 bills. After landing in Seattle and trading the passengers for the money, and parachutes, some crew members stayed on the plane and it took off for Mexico City. He requested the plane remain below 10 thousand feet, and during the second half of the flight, Cooper put on a pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses…

Lucifer: Sunglasses, you say?

Satan: *nods*

Lucifer: …

Satan: …Sunglasses, copying a prestigious looking man, and terrible at planning…

Lucifer: …Keep reading.

Satan: A little after 8pm when the plane was between Seattle and Reno, Nevada, Cooper jumped out of the plane’s rear doors. He took two parachutes, and the money, and he was never seen again. However, he did take off his black clip on tie before jumping, which had DNA evidence on it.

Lucifer: He wore a clip-on tie?

Satan: And from a human world department store called J.C. Penney.

Lucifer: Am I right in assuming it was a clip-on because he does not know how to tie a tie?

Satan: I would say so.

Lucifer: …What type of DNA was on the tie?

Satan: Well, that lead into a huge investigation, and oddly enough a bag full of the specific serial numbered $20 bills that Cooper took was found by a human 9 years later rotting away. It’s theorized he dropped that bag of money into a river.

Lucifer: …Is that all?

Satan: …On that specific bag, yes.

Lucifer: That… that is all they figured out?!

Satan: *nods*

Lucifer: …This man sounds like an idiot. He surely should have been caught.

Satan: *nods* Then humans would send letter to the FBI and countless human newspapers claiming to be Cooper, or send in his eulogy... or being his siblings… but nothing ever came from these.

Lucifer: Now why would humans pretend to be a criminal?

Satan: *shrugs* Money.

Lucifer: …

Satan: …

Lucifer: Money was the biggest part of this case.

Satan: Yes.

Lucifer: And the humans never caught the idiot responsible even though they clearly should have.

Satan: No.

Lucifer: …

Satan: …

Lucifer: *pulls out D.D.D. and begins dialing a number*

Satan: *sips drink*

Lucifer: *places phone on speaker*

Mammon: *through the phone* Yeah? Whaddya want?

Lucifer: Mammon where were you on the date of November 24th, 1971. 

Mammon: Ya expect me to remember that?

Lucifer: Yes, D.B. Cooper. I expect you to remember.

Mammon: …

Satan: …

Lucifer: Well?

Mammon: *hangs up*

Lucifer: I must go. *leaves*

Satan: *sips drink and motions to cut the camera*

[jeriafterdark]

Part 3/4: Youku Antics to hide the ring continued & a Lone Gong's Journey to show he's married af

Part One

Part Two

This is Part Three of the Ring Saga. More on Youku being clowns, and our laogong's journey to show everyone he's a married man now.

Part Two continued: Youku being clowns~

The absolute clowns at Youku accidentally removed ZZH’s ring as well??? But left it in during other shots???

They may have removed the ring on GJ’s hand, but not the one on the screen behind him?? It amazes how sharp fans' eyes are.

His backstage clip has him wearing a ring…

So there you have it! Youku went and tried to delete a ring on GJ’s ring finger. We all assume it’s the pair to ZZH’s hexagonal ring, a TASAKI branded wedding ring which has its own partner ring.

In doing so, they just made it 1000x more obvious that they were trying to hide their relationship. Thanks to the accidental broadcast, fans were able to suss out the truth, and GJ’s refusal to put that ring in his pocket helped a whole lot lol. This is really all pointing towards the idea that they cannot show homosexual relationships in public spaces, so they’d have to hide it / edit it out. It just backfired immensely. 

Part Three: GJ’s journey to show he’s married af

So after 813, GJ looked absolutely terrible. I don’t want to repost the pictures but… I might someday, you may have already seen them. The ones right after 813. He looked absolutely wrecked, his eyes were so swollen, his eyebrows were creased, and he looked like he'd been crying a lot. It took a toll on all of us, and especially ZZH and him. It was dangerous to be associated with ZZH, people were instantly muted/deleted for daring to speak out or even say his name. His accounts were completely wiped. But GJ, one of few people, never deleted any of his posts mentioning Zhang-laoshi’s name, and he never unfollowed.

 To this day, he’s still following an unnamed account on Douyin, which we all assume is the deleted ZZH’s douyin. Sigh, if there’s anything you’ve gleaned from this, you should know that GJ cares about him. A lot. So much. Why wouldn’t he? ZZH lifted him up on his shoulders, taught him the ropes, teased and flirted with him, made him feel at home on set, on stage, and on screen. At a time when no one really knew who GJ was, isn’t that something worth cherishing?

So in the months following, GJ purposely flaunted the idea that he’s a TAKEN MAN. He’s a very smart person, who frequently follows what’s happening on social media (as he’s said in previous interviews). He even followed the LLD supertopic as well as his own topic just to stay on top of what the fans were saying lol. So he KNOWS that everyone KNOWS about the ring. Ok? And he knows that everyone calls him the colander, that he “leaks” information, but he confirmed himself that everything he’s said, he’s decided it’s okay to say. 

During Chuang 2021, an idol competition, GJ sported double stacked rings on his ring fingers. These were Tiffany True Wedding rings. In this infamous appearance, he’s quoted saying that the person who matches him best in the world, is Zhang-laoshi, WEARING THOSE RINGS. OK? OK? He knows. He KNOWS.

And then during his Vogue red carpet, after 813, he wore the same double stacked rings on his ring finger.

Since these accessories kept appearing, it’s assumed that they’re his personal accessories that he chose to wear. The stylist usually allows for that. Also, Tiffany didn’t claim him as being sponsored at the time, which they normally do, but it depends on the contract behind-the-scenes. Anyway, his poses were curious in that they showcased those rings front and center, as much as possible. In addition, he could have been cueing a time when a certain Zhang-laoshi also wore stacked rings to his own event..

During Sept-Nov, GJ regularly got filmed going to and from his work at Hengdian for his new drama, Legend of Anle. The ring was spotted multiple times. He’d take it off right as he was getting out of his car. If he didn’t want people to take a picture of it, why not just take it off inside the car?? HM? And if it was just a regular accessory, that has no meaning, then why hide it at all??? HM? 

That’s right. One Gong Army, the married man himself, carrying this ship on his back. He still won’t let people forget about ZZH, and everytime a new photo came out, I was very very happy. He still is as loyal a husband as ever.

On his birthday, November 29, 2021, he had a livestream where he opened a bunch of presents from staff and etc. It was very cute, and he was so lively and adorable. Fans noticed that the ring finger on his hand had a tan line?

A note on that picture on the bottom left, it was from a short douyin? That he shot for Louis Vuitton. You can see the glimmer of a ring on his ring finger there, but when he had photos taken, there was no ring. Was this a way for him to say that don’t worry fam, I gotchu? The ring’s right here in a flash!

In December, 2021, GJ posted a bunch of photos from the New Year’s Eve Gala.

I’m up to my photo limit AGAIN. So the final part will be all the times we’ve spotted this elusive nut ring on his shows post-WOH.

Part Four - GJ being loud and married

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

----------------------

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”